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1
My eyeswere playing tricks on me. That was the only rational explanation. I’d been traveling all day—a car, two planes, and now this taxi. At this point, I was so tired that I was starting to imagine things lurking in the darkness beyond the cab window. I focused on the back of the passenger headrest in front of me. There was no way that foggy blur on the horizon had actually been a group of armored men on horseback racing across the moonlit English countryside. I rubbed my eyes and leaned back against the sticky leather seat.
My fingers itched to reach for my phone and text my best friend, Angie, but I hesitated, remembering her parting words on the drive to the airport this morning.I hope it’s worth it. Not exactly the most encouraging send-off, but she didn’t understand how much Lydbury meant to me. She already thought I was crazy, running away from my perfectly acceptable life in the Bay Area to follow a dream. A dream job or a dream school would be one thing, but following a literal dream about a woman in a tapestry, half a world away in England, was a little too far out there for my business-minded bestie. Honestly, it was a little too far out there for me, as well. But I couldn’t get that lady out of my head, and once I’d figured out where I’d seen her before, it all came together. I just knew what I had to do.
When I opened my eyes, my weary reflection stared back at me from the cab window. Reaching up, I smoothed a hand over my ponytail, twisting the thick dark hair around my palm. We had to be close now. I pressed my face toward the window, careful to keep from touching the glass, and scanned the dark, rolling hills. No sign of metal armor flashing in the moonlight. I breathed a sigh of relief. Not crazy. Just tired. Then I caught my first glimpse of the peaked roof of Lydbury Manor rising up from the horizon, silhouetted against the night sky. Excitement thrummed in my veins, and I scooted to the edge of my seat.
The taxi slowed, and the crunch of tires on gravel signaled that we’d turned onto my aunt and uncle’s private drive. Tall stone pillars framed the gated entrance. At the top of each, a bronze dragon curved around an iron ball, its mouth open and its forked tongue flicking out. Moonlight filtered down on them through the bare winter tree branches, and they appeared to slither and twist as we drove past. A chill ran down my spine like I’d been soaked with a bucket of ice water, and I shivered.
I tried to shake that eerie feeling as the driver guided the car down the long, tree-lined drive. He parked at the bottom of the wide stone steps leading up to the mansion entrance. Evergreen hedges garnished with strings of sparkling white lights bracketed an enormous oak door. All the windows remained dark, and other than those few strands of Christmas lights, the place looked abandoned—but I knew better.
“Are you quite sure you have the right address, miss?” asked the driver.
I confirmed this was, indeed, the right address, then double-checked the fare and handed over my carefully counted bills. I grinned as I stepped out of the taxi and stared up at the doorstep of the ancient mansion. I loved this creepy old place and all its bizarre history so much. I’d spent every spare minute for the past few months reading and studying the legends and relevant bits of information I could get my hands on. Hopefully, my preparation would be enough to convince Uncle Oscar to take me on as his assistant. Once I’d accomplished that, the rest would fall into place. I was sure of it.
The driver set my suitcase and duffle on the bottom step and gave me one last questioning look before returning to his cab and disappearing into the darkness. I pulled my coat closed against the brisk winter wind and swung the strap of my duffle over my shoulder. At the top of the steps, I reached for the iron knocker and rapped several times.
The last time I’d been here, I hadn’t been able to reach the knocker. My father had lifted me, and even then, I hadn’t been able to make enough noise to rouse my aunt and uncle from their library at the back of the house. Most likely that’s where they were now, tucked into their favorite chairs, reading and working in front of the roaring fire. I waited for my aunt to make the long walk through the dark hall, past enormous rooms filled with antique furniture, which I’d been forbidden to play in as a child.
The door creaked open and my aunt’s face peeked out. When she saw me, she smiled and opened the door wide. “Come in, come in. Have you been waiting long? You must be freezing. Let me get your bag. Come, come. In you go.” She shut the door behind me, then pulled me to her. I bent to return her hug, and all the worry drained from me. This was exactly where I needed to be.
She pushed me away and held me at arm’s length. “Let me get a look at you. Our beautiful Eve… You’ve grown so tall, just like your father. Oh, how I hated that he got all the height in the family. But listen to me, carrying on. How was your trip? Made it here okay, then?”
“Yes, Auntie. Thank you so much for letting me stay for the holidays. Your house is just as big and spooky as I remember.”
“Oh, well, you know Oscar. He won’t change a thing. It’s a wonder I got him to agree to ‘The Great Purge,’ as I’ve dubbed it.” She shook her head but smiled and squeezed my hands. “But enough of my prattling on. Let me show you to your rooms so you can get some rest. Unless you want to stay up with us old folk?” She paused to study my face but didn’t give me time to respond before she continued. “Look at you. You’re exhausted. Come now, up this way. We’ll get you settled and catch up over breakfast in the morning. Yes?”
Aunt Vivian took my duffle from me and headed up the curving staircase. Even though we talked every week over video chat, her warm smile was even better in person. As much as I wanted to prove to her husband that I was ready to assist him with his museum project, I’d be much more convincing after a good night’s sleep.
I pushed away my anxious thoughts and followed my aunt up the stairs. Now that I was here, I wanted to absorb every detail of my uncle’s historic home, starting with the woodwork that I’d been too young to appreciate on my previous visit. I ran my fingers over the carvings in the banister as we climbed, tracing the patterns of leaves and marveling at the woodland creatures sculpted into the vertical supports. At the first landing, I paused in front of the tapestry hanging on the wall. A woman with flowing golden hair billowing around her pale face sat on a throne, surrounded by lush green flora and delicate flowers.
“She’s still here.” I shuddered as I stared into the woven eyes of the golden-haired woman I’d seen in my dream.
“Who, dear?” Aunt Vivian paused partway up the next flight of stairs and turned to look over her shoulder. “Oh! The Faerie Queen. Of course. You were quite taken with that tapestry when you were a child. You used to play with your dolls right there on the landing, making up stories about their adventures.”
“That’s meant to be her, right? Lord Edric’s wife?” Once I’d recognized the woman in my dream, I’d dug up everything I could find about Oscar’s ancestor Edric and his wife, Godda. If this tapestry was any indication, she certainly was beautiful enough to be a storybook faerie queen, as claimed by the local legends.
“Oh, yes. The Queen of the Faeries. Though, why she ever agreed to marry Oscar’s ancestor after he kidnapped her and brought her here, I’ll never understand.” She shook her head at the tapestry. “Do you remember playing here?”
“I remember so much about this house, but it’s funny…I don’t remember playing here.” Goose bumps prickled across my skin. I had some new theories about that story, based on my research, and none of them involved Godda being a Faerie Queen. After all, faeries weren’t real, and my uncle was an historian, not a storybook writer. I was convinced he’d appreciate my careful analysis and ideas.
“Hmm.” She squinted at me. “I think it was just after that visit you exchanged dolls for sneakers and books. After that, you were either running too fast for anyone to catch you or hiding with your nose in a book.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment. Then she blinked, turned her head away, and continued climbing.
I took one more long look at the tapestry, then forced myself to follow Aunt Vivian up the stairs.
She paused at the second-floor landing, then turned to say, “I’m glad you decided to take a vacation and let me spoil you rotten.” Before I could respond, she disappeared to the left and started down the hall to the guest wing. My stomach clenched as I remembered that I was going to have to tell her I hadn’t been completely honest. I wasn’t here for a relaxing Christmas holiday, at least not if I could get Uncle Oscar to agree to let me help him with the exhibit. Now that I’d arrived, I started to question my decision to withhold the true purpose of my visit, no longer sure why I’d worried that they would try to talk me out of it. Not that it mattered. It was too late to turn back now. I’d already quit my job, and I didn’t even have a return ticket.
When I reached the landing, a movement at the end of the main hall caught my eye. I squinted into the darkness, but there was nothing in the hallway or on the back stairs that led up to the attic bedroom. I shook my head. That was it. I was exhausted and definitely imagining things. Still, a wave of nostalgia washed over me at the thought of that attic bedroom. That was where my brothers and I had slept when we’d last visited. I’d kind of hoped I’d get to sleep up there again. But my aunt had started walking down the hallway, so it looked like she had given me one of the guest rooms instead.
I turned and followed her down the hall, still carrying my suitcase. I didn’t want to ruin the beautiful hardwood floors or dirty the long, plush carpet that ran down the center of the hallway with the scratched and grimy wheels of my luggage.
Wainscoting covered the lower portion of the walls in a stain that matched the wood on the floors. The upper portion had been painted with a deep wine color and washed in light from electric candles with leaded glass shades mounted along the hall every few feet. I followed my aunt past several closed doors before she finally stopped and placed her hand on one of the doorknobs.
“Here you are, right in here.” She twisted the knob and pushed the door open to reveal an enormous bedroom. “Your own bathroom.” She pointed to a door in one wall. “And we started a fire in the hearth for you. Gets a bit drafty in this old place. If you like, I could bring you up a hot cocoa. Are you hungry at all? The cook’s gone home, but there might be something left from dinner that I could warm up for you.”
I shook my head no as I placed my suitcase inside the room and then threw my arms around Aunt Vivian.
“What’s that for, dear?” she asked.
