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Anne? A night terror. She looked back at Ashley, who slept peacefully. “A moment,” she said and she turned to get Ashley’s dressing gown. She shrugged into it and followed the butler into the corridor, closing the door to Ashley’s chambers quietly behind her. “You’ll have to show me the way,” she warned.
He looked down his nose at her for a moment, and then gave her a brisk nod. He began to walk, and she followed. She couldn’t help but wonder why Anne’s rooms were so far from His Grace’s, when she seemed to need him so often. But it was not her riddle to solve.
When they reached Anne’s chambers, Wilkins stepped to the side and bade her to precede him. She did so with no hesitation at all.
But what surprised her was the voice of her sister Claire as she entered the room. Claire sat in a rocking chair in the corner of the room. “It was rather difficult to convince Wilkins that Lady Anne had need of her father,” Claire bit out. She held a sobbing Anne in her arms. “Now I can see why he didn’t want to disturb him.” Her gaze was full of censure. “Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked, her tone harsh enough to cut glass.
“Oh, do shut it,” Sophia barked as she held her arms open to Anne. The girl flew across the room and directly into her grasp. She hugged the girl to her and sat back on the bed, drawing her across her lap.
“There now,” Sophia crooned. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” She very gently brushed the girl’s wet hair from her face. “Has your naughty governess been telling you stories of trolls and snails?”
“I did,” Claire said, raising her nose high in the air. “But I doubt that’s what brought on this bout of tears,” she clarified.
“I was falling,” Anne said, her face pressed into Sophia’s shoulder.
“Well, now you’re not,” Sophia crooned to her. “You’re tight within my arms. All safe and sound.”
Lady Anne hiccupped against her shoulder and began to quiet.
“She has night terrors often,” Claire said.
“Yes, I know. I’m fairly certain she was there when her mother’s accident happened.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” Anne sniffled. “She was thrown.”
“I know,” Sophia said quietly, rocking the child back and forth.
“How do you know?” Claire asked quietly.
“Her father told me the details,” Sophia explained. “Could you pass me the music box, please?” Sophia held out her hand for the small box and waited patiently for Claire to put it in her hand.
“That’s the oldest trick in the book,” Claire snorted.
“And it works,” Sophia sniped back.
Sophia jostled Anne within her arms very softly. “Anne, I need for you to do something for me,” she said.
Anne nodded against her chest but didn’t loosen her frantic grip on Sophia.
/> “I need for you to remember what happened to your mother, only for a moment.”
Anne closed her eyes tightly.
“Then I want you to take that memory and put it in this box. We’ll lock it up, and you never have to open it again if you don’t want to.”
“Fool’s magic,” Claire barked.
“Shut it,” Sophia warned.
Sophia nudged Anne. “Go ahead. Put it away.”
“I can’t,” Anne cried.
Claire opened her palm and blew across it, and magical dust stirred within the air. It swirled until it formed a picture in the air, a shimmery portrait of a woman with long golden hair falling from the tower. Anne closed her eyes tightly and refused to look at it.
Sophia reached out and caught the picture in the air, crumpling it between her fists like a piece of parchment. She placed the bit of memory in the music box and closed the lid with a resounding thwack.
“Take it away,” Sophia ordered.
