AFOB WATCH CLICKED SHUT.
“It’s time, Hebe.”
A husky laugh and the thud of footfall.
And she ran, down corridors and hallways – so dark, forever so dark.
Nowhere to hide.
Harsh fingers to her shoulder swung her and–
“No!” she screamed, eyes blinking, forearms warding off…
From above the fireplace, that king stared, his smile pitying in the flickering lantern light. There was no husky laugh or thud of footfall but in its place was the lash of water whipping the windows, fierce and tempestuous.
Mr Grampy Tom’s rain had come.
Pouring and surging, as though the heavens wished to cleanse the castle of today’s malice.
Hebe’s chin dropped to her chest before she flung the coverlet back and stomped across the room, anger at herself, for allowing that nightmare to return. Anger at ever being charmed by one such as Tobias Locke.
Anger at allowing desire for yet another damnable rake.
Tugging the drapes aside, she gazed upon the storm; no lightning shattered the sky but the rain was firm and relentless, punishing the maze for harbouring such cruelty.
No swans drifted tonight and no lights shone in the distance – all was pitch and gloom and bleak.
Hebe felt her spirits grow wretched with the weather, so endeavoured to find grace in the pound of rain, the howling wind, but all she could see was emptiness ahead of her…
Solitude.
Loneliness.
Nothing.
Nothing but nightmares and memories, a wild sob escapin–
A scratch at the door caused her to spin, fist to mouth.
Silence.
Then… Again, a scratching sound.
Tentatively, she grabbed the lantern and crept over.
Was someone attempting to frighten her with ghosts and suchlike, not realising that ethereal monks and grey ladies held no trepidation?
Only mortal hands could scare her.
The roof moaned as wind tore at it, rain battering the windows for entry, yet she knew this eternal castle would withstand all. Would endure till doomsday.
Noiselessly, she reached for the door handle and then in a rush, tugged it open to stare out at the Long Gallery.
The wingback striped chair, which was usually at the far end facing a Gainsborough, had been newly positioned beneath the window opposite her bedchamber, a dent in the seat as though a derriere had of late departed, and on a table to the side was a lit lantern, empty glass and open book.
Yet not a shadow stirred.
How strange, and she closed the door. Perhaps Aunt had sat there for a while and left the lantern in cas–
