Dark Splendor (26 page)

She sat alone. The food on her plate cooled
untouched until the savage onslaught of rain ended and the gray
clouds parted enough to show the fading glow of sunset. Her
appetite was as faint as the last amber rays of evening, but she
forced herself to eat enough to maintain her strength. When she had
finished, Anna brought a message of apology from Martha and a cup
of the special herbal tea.

“Said she made a pot for ‘erself and there’s
plenty for you too.” Anna smiled broadly.

“It’s quite good, Anna. Do you care for the
herbal brew?”

“Oh, no, madam. It’s good English tea for
me. I’ve got no taste for garden leaves.” Anna wrinkled her nose in
disgust.

Silvia smiled politely, then looked away to
stare blankly at a candle flame. How odd it was to be going
futilely through the motions of normalcy, dining and taking tea as
if there were nothing peculiar in her life. Was this the way of it
with a person on hangman’s row, pretending until the last minute
that nothing was wrong? Or thinking that at the last hour the
sentence would be commuted and the horror would end?

She mustn’t lose hope. There might still be
a way to remedy her situation. She must keep her head and pretend
all was well until she found a solution. It was important to make
Schlange believe she had accepted her fate and would give him no
trouble. If no child came, perhaps he would relent of that demand.
Even as she thought them, she doubted her wishful dreams.
Nevertheless, she would never let go of hope, no matter how dim it
might grow in her heart.

Lost in her thoughts, she had almost
forgotten Anna until she looked up to see the woman patiently
waiting for her to indicate where she wanted to take tea. Anna held
the little tea tray close to her ample breast and looked totally
flabbergasted that Silvia’s attention had oddly wandered.

For a moment Silvia was undecided, but at
last the loneliness she felt drove her to seek what company she
could, even if it were the statues of stone.

“I’ll take it in the library, Anna. I’m not
ready to go up to bed just yet.” Silvia rose, glad to be leaving
the monotonous quiet and the mocking empty chairs at the long
expanse of table. A forlorn look marred her lovely features. Behind
her the windows rattled obstinately in their wooden frames. A
strong wind off the ocean had persisted even after the rain ended.
Now and then a powerful gust whipped through the courtyard, voicing
a dull, lamenting roar as it met the castle walls.

Sighing listlessly, Silvia followed Anna’s
generous form down the hallway. She felt a shiver of premonition
that the figures, sympathizing with her plight, were beckoning her
to come. And feeling dejected, she knew the marble statues would be
the only company she would have on this dreary night. It was just
as well. A strange restlessness had come over her and she simply
couldn’t face going to her room right away. Though why she should
feel compelled to spend the evening in the library puzzled her. It
was a place as disquieting as her own chambers. But at least, she
consoled herself, in the library the ghosts were visible stone
statues and not the hollow dark dreams that disturbed her
sleep.

When Anna was gone, her eyes swept over the
shelves of books until she found one that interested her. Once she
had made her selection, she settled in a comfortable chair, opened
the cover, and began to read, pausing occasionally to sip her
tea.

She found the tea warmly soothing and far
more relaxing than her usual cup. Within a few moments of drinking
it her head nodded sleepily and dropped to one side. The book she
intended reading slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with
a loud thump as it hit the carpet. The sound of it was like a
signal that started the haunting dark dreams. A smile stole onto
her lips as she felt herself sinking pleasantly into a misty
tunnel. In her mind the world changed from black to green, covered
over by rippling moss that moved in a lifelike wave. Her eyes
blinked, opening and closing several times until a light gust of
wind woke her with its shivering touch.

The candles were quickly snuffed out by a
cool breath of wind. Only the one beside her remained burning. The
air hitting her face felt damp like the familiar fogs back
home.

Moaning softly, she tried to think clearly,
but her muddled thought were dull and lethargic. A fear always
lodged deep inside her stirred. She attempted to keep her eyelids
open and found the effort halfhearted at best. The room and its
objects were a hapless, spinning blur. She was only dimly conscious
of the figure stepping from the line of statues and moving slowly
in her direction. She could see lips moving where a face should be,
but the words they uttered drifted around like falling leaves
before reaching her ears.

“It seems the evenings spur you with a fit
of wanderlust.”

In a mind grown suddenly vacant, she had one
splintering thought. What Martha had told her was true. On troubled
nights, spirits moved about in the castle, seeking out those who
would disturb the tenuous peace of Serpent Tree Hall. This one she
knew from the slope of his shoulders and the bold set of his
chin.

“Siegfried.” She drew out his name, her
voice slurred and sleep-laden.

“Siegfried?” He laughed scornfully, whirling
to snatch the cape and swing it boldly about his shoulders.

Silvia drew a hurried breath as a bright
flash of purple drifted over her head. Siegfried had come to life
and stood within her reach, but she could not bring herself to
stretch out a hand to him. Instead she used all her strength to
force her eyes to stay open and to fight the quivering in her
abdomen.

“Have you found me here as well?” A voice
from inside her head was answering the one from the darkness. She
saw above her a taunting ghostly shape like the one that stole into
her dreams. “Is there no place I can escape you?” she murmured. “Is
there no place I can rest undisturbed?” An aura of gold ringed his
head, and blinking, she strained to see the features in the stony
face, but found it impossible to focus her eyes.

He cocked his head to one side.

“Must I be plagued by a spirit?” she cried.
Her head lolled back weakly against the chair. “It is not I who
have brought discontent to this house.” Her voice rambled on. “Must
you pursue me as you do that rogue Aurelius?” She tried to lift her
head, and failing, tried to swallow an uncomfortable tightening
that had started in her throat as she flung her head from side to
side. Why didn’t he answer? “You must see I take no willing part in
what is done. You must believe it is not my choice.” Feebly she
touched a hand to her heart. “I was deceived. If I am guilty, it is
only of losing my heart to one whom I can never freely tell of my
feelings.”

He stood above her, legs spread in a
wide-legged stance, arms crossed over a broad chest.

“What new game is this you contrive, Silvia
Schlange? Would you persuade me you are a helpless damsel in need
of a champion?”

She moaned lightly, her lips feeling thick
and lazy, her speech coming with difficulty. “It is no game. I
merely play the part I am forced to play. I think not even a
supernatural champion could free me of my bonds.” She sighed.
“Though I wish with all my heart so simple a solution could be
found.”

“You deem yourself wronged?”

She glanced up, trying to see through the
gelatinous fog in her brain. “I have been so wronged that even the
ghost of Siegfried himself cannot aid me.” A soft moan slipped from
her lips. “I am ruled by a dark power the gods of old could not
confront.” Heavy lids fluttered, then closed tightly. “I am
lost.”

“Lost or seeking?” He bent low so that his
lips brushed maddeningly against hers as he spoke. That slight
sweet touch filled her with longing to feel his mouth fully against
her own, but he quickly drew back.

Shivering, she rallied her voice to answer.
“I seek only to be free of a bondage greater than any woman should
bear. My sleep is plagued by spirits and my waking hours by hideous
threats.”

A flash of lightning lit the room for a
fiery instant. She could see an angry scowl on the chiseled
features of his face, and it seemed to her distorted vision that
his countenance bore the same deadly glow as the jagged bolt that
rent the darkened sky. She cringed, and fear rose up in her breast
when a distant crash of thunder shook the heavens.

“Silvia?” His voice held a note of surprise
and the sting had gone out of his words. “An unhappy bride? Tell me
what it is you speak of. What spirit steals your sleep? What
threats plague you?” He scowled and bent over her once more. “Is
the Schlange fortune not enough to compensate for any
discomfort.”

She looked up, her eyes wide and pleading,
passion unveiled in the glowing golden depths. “I had thought
spirits knew all. Can you not see I am married to a man who will
never hold my heart? Indeed the bond of marriage has no meaning for
my husband. He has no want of a wife.” Her breast ached, and warm
tears welled in her eyes.

“Do you say you hold no place in his
heart?”

“Nay. Not that. I believe he has come to
love me.” Indeed she knew it to be true. She must be the only
friend poor Willy had ever known. He had won her heart too, but not
in the way a wife cares for a husband. Aye, that was the agony of
it. Now that she knew Willy, she could never abandon him to the
mercy of his father and Vivien. She would protect him until her own
restless spirit drifted unfettered through the castle halls. She
sighed wistfully.

She had delayed as long as she could and now
had no choice but to bear Schlange a grandson, and little time to
be about it.

“Aye. So that is the way of it.” His voice
trailed off as he turned and left the way he had come. Silvia
caught a last glimpse of purple in the half-darkness as the cloak
flew out behind him.

The wind settled to a breeze that stirred
the velvet curtains at the open French doors. Cooling air touched
her face and revived her from the drowsy state she was in. Crying
out suddenly, Silvia sat up, groggily awake as if from a deep
sleep. Her eyes fearfully searched the darkness for the cause of
her alarm, and her trembling hands flew to her cheeks and found
them hot and burning. She could only conclude that the storm had
blown the doors open and awakened her with its raging
complaint.

She glanced down and spotted the book that
had fallen from her lap and bent to retrieve it. Beside her, the
dancing flame of the taper threatened to go out, and she quickly
cupped it with her hands, lest she be left cringing in the
darkness. Rising, Silvia took the taper and hurriedly relit the
other candles. When the room was once more bathed in light and she
was assured she was alone, she felt more than a little foolish and
dismayed.

With a sense of relief, she walked to the
open doors and stood with her eyes raised to the now settled sky.
The light breeze whipped her silk skirt tightly against her legs
and set a crown of raven curls loose around her face.

Soft light from the moon shone through dark
clouds. The hour was late; still, it was reluctantly she shut the
windows and fastened the latch. Evidently she could not evade the
vexing dreams by keeping away from her rooms. Tonight they found
her wherever she went.

She sighed pensively and prepared to leave
the library. It had seemed so real, talking to Siegfried, seeing
the blue blaze in his eyes. Whatever made her dream life into that
god of long ago? she wondered. She walked past the line of statues
and suddenly halted. Her mouth fell open and she gasped in
surprise. The statue of Siegfried stood as before, proud, bold, and
still. But the purple cloak was no longer draped on the broad stone
shoulders. Nor could she find it anywhere in the library.

Trembling, Silvia blew out the candles and
hastily left the room, searching her mind for the logic in what she
could remember of the last few hours. Miserably perplexed, she
stared at the Schlange crest on the wide wooden doors as she shut
them tight. Had it been a dream?

Though the halls were well lit, she still
carried the taper in her hand. Its tiny flame somehow gave her a
sense of warmth and security, for the castle seemed larger and
emptier than ever. Even her soft footsteps echoed threateningly off
the high stone ceilings. In the pink marble foyer she paused a
moment to watch in horror as flames leapt out of the gilded
serpents’ mouths. She felt Schlange’s presence everywhere. His
pervading will was known in each room, in each piece of furniture,
as if he dared even the smallest crack of defiance. In that moment
Silvia knew a hatred so strong that her eyes, clouded already,
filled with disgust. She shuddered silently with the thought that
Schlange too, like the spirits lodged in this house, could see and
hear all.

Feeling flushed and strained, she had
started to mount the stairs when the huge front doors opened and
slammed shut. The wind whipped in, hitting her flesh like an eerie
warm breath. Startled, she spun around and clapped her hands to her
mouth, preventing a scream.

“Oh! Roman, it’s you.” Her voice shook.

He laughed heartily. “Were you meeting
someone?” His eyes were strangely alive and an infuriating grin was
on his lips.

“No,” she said quickly. “I was just going up
to my room.” Her eyes flickered like the little flame of the candle
in her hands. “You startled me, coming in so suddenly. I thought
you were a...a ghost.”

“Not yet.” His face held a hint of mockery.
“Earthly pleasures still amuse me.” He stepped near and pulled her
brusquely into his arms. “Do I feel like a ghost?” he
whispered.

She struggled violently and pushed at him.
“Let me go!”

Roman held her fast, mocking her protests
with his eyes. “I like the wildness in you,” he said, more to
himself than to her. “Wild, sweet Silvia.” His lips were very close
and he leaned down to kiss her slowly and deeply.