Serafina had seen many strange and wondrous things at Biltmore, but this was a sight she had never imagined: a dark-haired Cherokee catamount boy carrying a redheaded young English sorceress up the Grand Staircase of Biltmore Estate at sunrise.
“Let’s take her up to the South Tower Room on the third floor,” Braeden said, leading the way. “My uncle was worried about my aunt’s condition, so he took her into Asheville while the road was still partially clear. We have most of the house to ourselves.”
But just as he was saying this, a young dark-haired maid in a black-and-white uniform came bustling down the staircase, clearly not expecting to encounter anyone so early in the morning. Serafina was delighted to see that it was her old friend Essie Walker. Essie seemed so flush and full of life as she bustled down the stairs.
“Oh dear, y’all, pardon me,” Essie said in surprise, catching herself up short as she came to an abrupt stop in front of them. Essie caught eyes with Waysa first, and seemed to snag there for a moment, but then she immediately moved her attention to the unconscious girl he was carrying. “Oh my, what’s happened to the poor girl? Is she badly hurt?”
But then in the next instant, as Essie’s eyes lifted, she noticed the young master Braeden and then Serafina beside him. Essie’s eyes widened, like she was seeing a haint. Not anymore, Serafina thought.
“Essie, it’s me,” Serafina said, smiling as she moved toward her old friend.
Essie’s face lit up. “Eh law, Miss Serafina, it’s you!” she cried. “Where’d you get off to all this time, girl? It’s been so long! I’m so glad you’re all right! Your poor old pa is going to weep buckets when he sees you!”
Braeden quickly led them all up to the South Tower Room. It was a large, elegant, oval bedroom with an elaborate crown-canopied bed, hand-carved ivory-white molding running along the arc of its curved walls, and a domed ceiling.
As Waysa set Rowena gently down on the bed, Serafina noticed that Essie was staring at him intently. When the catamount boy stepped away from Rowena, Essie’s eyes followed him. It was like she had never seen anything like him—neither inside the hallowed walls of Biltmore or out in the wider world—and what she saw now fascinated her.
When Waysa lifted his brown eyes and looked at Essie, she said, “Oh lord, pardon me,” and turned aside, her face red. “I’ll fetch some warm water and towels right away,” she said as she hurried out of the room.
Braeden sat on the edge of the bed beside Rowena, attending to her the best he could as he tried to examine her wounds. Her head was bleeding and there was a scrape on her shoulder, but there were no gaping cuts or obviously broken bones.
“She’s been unconscious since Uriah threw her against the rock, but otherwise, she doesn’t seem to be too badly hurt,” Braeden said.
When Essie returned with the supplies, Braeden dipped one of the towels in the basin and then wiped Rowena’s head and face thoroughly with the wet cloth, trying to clear some of the blood away.
Serafina gazed at Rowena lying unconscious in the bed. Through all the riddles and sharp talk, in the end, Rowena had been true to her word: the sorceress had brought her back into the living world. And Rowena had betrayed her father. But what struck Serafina most was the memory of Rowena leaping into the path of the fireball to save Braeden’s life. There seemed to be far more to Rowena than Serafina had realized.
The passing of time and Braeden’s attentions with the damp cloth seemed to have an effect on Rowena. She stirred with a groan, and then appeared as if she was slowly coming to. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked around at the four people staring at her.
“What happened?” she asked. “Did the plan work? Is he dead?”
We failed, Serafina thought as she sat in the South Tower Room with the others. We failed to defeat Uriah. They had developed a plan, gathered all their allies, and attacked in force, but they had still failed.
Serafina looked around at her three companions.
Rowena, battered and disoriented, rose from her bed and began to pace back and forth, rubbing her face anxiously, worried that her father was still alive.
Waysa went over to one of the room’s three sunlit bays, pulled aside the elegant curtains, and opened the window to the outside. He stood looking out across the forested valley of the great river to the misty blue mountains of the southern range. In the distance, toward the rising peak of Mount Pisgah, the dark shapes of storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Serafina thought that he must be keeping a watchful eye for their enemy, but ever since their arrival at Biltmore that morning, Waysa had been restless. As a catamount who had lived all his life with his family in the forest, he wasn’t used to being indoors. He didn’t trust the smooth, flat ground or the closed-in walls in these unnaturally quiet caves, this place without tree or fern, without the sound of birds or insects, without the feel of the wind in his hair, and he hated not being able to see the sun or moon.
For her part, Serafina was happy to take advantage of the shelter of the room. When Essie brought in a tray of food for them and set it on the fine mahogany table in the sitting area in the center of the room, Serafina gobbled it down with the others.
“Essie, this is my friend,” Serafina said. “His name is Waysa.”
As Waysa turned and stepped toward her, Essie said, “Howdayado,” and curtsied nervously.
“It’s very good to meet you, Miss,” Waysa said, clearly trying to sound as kind as possible.
“I’m so happy to see you, Essie,” Serafina said smiling and hugging her. “I looked for you earlier. Why weren’t you in your room on the fourth floor?”
“I’ve been promoted!” Essie said, filled with pride, but then she quickly remembered everyone else. “I’ll tell you all about it, but I’ll let y’all talk first.”
“Thank you for everything, Essie,” Braeden said, as Essie left the room. He, too, seemed relieved to be back in the comfortable routine and relative safety of Biltmore’s sunlit rooms.
But they all knew they couldn’t truly rest here.
“So, now what are we going to do?” Braeden asked, looking around at the others.
“We have to go back out there,” Waysa urged.
When Braeden lowered his head, Serafina knew that he was thinking about his horse and the wolves and his other friends who had died in the battle during the night.
Seeing Braeden’s sadness, Waysa said, “I don’t wish to fight, but none of us—including our allies in the forest—are safe until we destroy him.”
Serafina glanced over at Rowena, who had stopped pacing and was looking at them now, her face clouded with fear and uncertainty. She glanced at the door and then the windows as if she thought her father was going to crash into the room at any moment.
Serafina tried to think about what they should do. She knew that if she stood up right now and called for an immediate attack against Uriah that they would probably join her, and she wanted to do just that, she wanted to fight, but deep down, she knew it would be a mistake.
Finally, she turned to the sorceress.