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Shadows moved over the walls, taking the form of bodies dancing around a bonfire. The bodies came together in pairs, at first, then as one big group. They pulsed in sync, in a way that reminded me of a heartbeat. Over the incessant whispers, the sounds of moans filled my room. Not of pleasure, but agony.
“Stop it,” I muttered. “Stop it!”
The bodies pulsed faster, in the telling movements of sex, and I scanned my room, finding nothing more than furniture, which stood quiet and still.
A strange sensation crawled over the back of my neck, and I lifted my gaze toward the ceiling.
A black residue overhead quivered like a festering wound. An object the shape of a limb pushed through, like a rubbery skin, as if an elastic barrier kept it trapped. I could feel a mirrored movement inside my belly, and I rested a hand there, my stomach twisting and turning in knots. The limb pulled back into the ceiling, and what looked like the shape of a face pushed against the black elastic, its mouth agape.
Breaths panting, I ran my hand over my belly and let out a quiet sob on feeling the same gaping mouth and teeth beneath my palm.
“No, no, no,” I said on a stuttering breath.
The face slipped back into my stomach.
The grunting and moaning sounds heightened. The whispers converged into a single voice.
The shadows turned erratic, violent in their abrupt jerks and thrusts.
‘Banish the innocent from thy womb! Banish the innocent from thy womb!’
Pressing my palms over my ears, I squeezed my eyes. The whispers arrived faster, louder. Until they reached a deafening sound. I opened my mouth to scream, and a high-pitched ringing pierced my head.
Jagged flashes of light flared behind my eyelids in the same shape as the shadows on the wall.
The ringing faded.
The shadowy flashes of light merged into the darkness and disappeared.
Blissful quiet hung on the air again, and I opened my eyes to find the strange blonde, the one from my nightmares, standing alongside the bed staring down at me. She reached out a hand, and when she touched my stomach, I kicked away from her, the headboard behind me knocking into my spine. An intense, cramping ache struck my belly, and I cried out.
“This will only hurt a little,” she whispered.
A wet sensation drew my eyes to the white sheets, where dark red fluid pooled out from beneath me. My chest tightened with panic, the air too thick to breathe.
“No! No!” Another rush of fluid gushed from between my thighs, and I tipped my head back on a scream.
44
THE BARON
Bending forward to lace his boots, the baron paused on hearing a quiet knock at his door. “May I enter, Your Lordship? I have your breakfast.”
Groaning at the sound of Drystan’s voice, the baron went back to his tying. “Very well.”
Drystan took careful steps and set a tray of food down on a table across from the bed. He lingered there, watching.
An irritating sliver of impatience prodded the baron, and he sat back on his mattress to face the other boy. “Well, what is it? Why are you still here?”
“Forgive me, I was only curious to know if you planned to attend the execution later.”
“Execution of whom?”
“A witch is to be burned at the monastery.”
Sneering at that, the baron shook his head and rounded the bed for his breakfast, knocking Drystan in the shoulder as he passed. “No. I will not be attending the bishop’s ridiculous display of power.”
“But … she is a witch, My Lord. She has prophesied terrible things.”
