'Your description is rather fanciful,' Donskoy replied. 'I myself find the mists quite nauseating and oppressive. And I can assure you, your journey had more to do with gold than magic. Which is to say, with my payment, as well as your father's contribution. Tell me about your family.'
Marguerite winced. 'My father is the village master.' At least, he would be if he were still there, she thought. She hoped her parents had fled Malanuv. Otherwise they might be dead.
'Yes, that was my understanding,' said Donskoy. 'That your father was a petty bureaucrat-no insult intended. He had come down a bit in the world, I believe.'
'You are well informed. Father was a baron; he ruled a small city in the north before I was born. He claimed he preferred the simpler life of Malanuv, further removed from the politics of Lord Azalin's court.' Marguerite began to stumble over her words, fearing that she had painted herself as too common. 'I do not mean to say we were poor, of course; we lived very well by local standards. Though, naturally we did not live as well as this,'
'Indeed. You must feel proud to be marrying so well. All this is yours to enjoy, with scarcely a dowry.' He spoke mockingly, and Marguerite could not tell whether his words were sincere.
Donskoy's eyes lowered briefly, sliding to her bodice, then back to her face. 'No holdings, but your other charms are obvious,' he said. 'How is it that you did not marry sooner? Certainly there must have been suitors.'
'One,' she said quietly.
'But you did not marry, or. .'
'Ohf no,' she replied. 'He died before any formal arrangements were made.'
'How very unfortunate,' said Donskoy evenly. He watched her closely from across the table. 'How did it happen?'
'His neck was broken.' Marguerite chose her words with care. 'No one saw it happen. Apparently he was thrown from his horse.' Though she had meant to be honest, this was only half true. Her beloved's spine had been snapped by the same member of Lord Aza-lin's kargat who had opened her eyes to the secret terrors of Darkon.
She waited uneasily for Donskoy's reply. The wine had diminished her self-control; without warning, she found herself on the verge of tears. She did not wish to offer or remember anything more.
Donskoy broke the silence. 'It seems we both have known tragedy. Let us forget the unpleasantries of the past, then, and focus on the future-at least for tonight.'
Marguerite nodded at him gratefully, saying nothing until the wave of emotion passed.
He smiled and continued, 'Yes, we have happier topics before us. Such as our own marriage. I hope you will be content with a very simple, private ceremony. The subsequent fete will be somewhat grander.'
¦| will be content with whatever pleases you,' she said softly.
*My land is remote and without many inhabitants, As I have become more reclusive through the years, so too has the local population. Occasionally I entertain guests from neighboring lands. Otherwise visitors we rare. But I can muster a priest. And I will leave other arrangements to Zosia. Will the day after tomor-fow be too soon for you?'
'No,' she replied.
'Good.' He rose from the table. 'Then I shall see you in your wedding gown, the day after tomorrow.
We shall marry after the sun has passed its peak.'
'Won't I see you before then?' she asked.
He walked over to her chair and took her hand, then kissed it lightly. 'Would you like to?'
'Yes,' she answered truthfully. Courtship was by no means inherent to their arrangement-nor was companionship, for that matter. Still, she had hoped to get to know him better before the wedding. Or, more to the point, before the wedding night. The thought of it sobered her.
Donskoy touched her shoulder gently. 'As much as your eagerness pleases me, I regret that I cannot comply. I have other matters to attend to before we wed. Tomorrow, I'm afraid, you must find a means to entertain yourself. Perhaps you could take a walk outside. Ekhart will accompany you to see that you do not become lost or injured. The terrain can be challenging.'
The thought of a stroll with Ekhart did not appeal to Marguerite. 'Or I could look around inside the castle,' she suggested. Td like to get to know my new home.'
Donskoy paused. 'If you wish to explore the keep, I would prefer to accompany you. Or that you ask Yelena to do so. Unfortunately, she will be rather busy making preparations for the wedding.'
'Am [not to roam freely?' Marguerite asked, somewhat affronted.
'Of course. Within limits. And when you are familiar with the dangers. Until then, you are free to pass along the corridors you already know. You are hardly a prisoner.'
'Ekhart warned me about the pit in the foyer,' Marguerite said. 'And I will certainly exercise caution.'
'The pit is not the only danger. The keep has many twists and turns, and much of it lies in disrepair. The doors in the lower levels are particularly unreliable, and prone to holding fast. You might become disoriented or lost. Or worse.' He smiled at her. 'And I would not wish to lose you so soon.'
'I see,' Marguerite replied.
'I have an extensive library that you might enjoy. The room at the crest of the stairs near your chamber houses part of my collection. You can read, [assume?'
Marguerite felt a little sting. 'My upbringing was perhaps simpler than some, but not without education. In fact, I used to read stories as a glutton eats sweets. I also read music, and I can play the clavier and lute.'
'Really,' he answered dryly. 'I was unaware of such talents. I am not a great lover of song, but the castle does have a music room of sorts. No one has visited it in years. I will have to show it to you after we wed.'
Lord Donskoy gripped her shoulder a little more firmly. Marguerite sensed his annoyance,
'I will look forward to our time together,' she said. 'And tomorrow, a walk outside and a visit to the library will make for a full day.'
He took her hand and kissed it again. 'Until the wedding, then. Now Yelena will escort you back to your chamber.'
He left her.
Marguerite and Yelena walked quietly through the winding corridors and up the stairs, cutting a glowing path through the darkness with a torch. When they reached the door, Yelena opened it and went to check the fire. It was fully stoked. Apparently, someone had prepared the room earlier.
Yelena turned and slunk from the room, pulling the door shut behind her. A moment later, Marguerite heard a dull metal click. When she went to the door to investigate, she discovered it was locked. No key was in the lock on her side. She knocked softly. 'Yelena?' she called. No one answered.
Marguerite sighed. Tomorrow morning, of course, or perhaps even later tonight, Yelena would return to restore the fire. In the meantime, she was to remain alone and in this room. Despite Donskoy's assurances as to her freedom, she felt more like a prisoner than the mistress of the keep.
She walked to the window and drew open the shutters. The glass was covered with a delicate frost. Marguerite blew upon it and watched a dark spot appear. The water melted away in a peculiar pattern, forming three lines running parallel toward the sill. Marguerite shrugged and wiped away the rest of the frost, looking off to the terrain she would explore tomorrow- An amber light pulsed deep in the wood. A fire, she thought to herself. Or perhaps a gypsy camp. But then she remembered Arturi's refusal to venture any farther onto Donskoy's land. More likely, it was simply a traveler or a distant farmer's watch.
Shivering against the cold, Marguerite closed the shutters. Then she stripped off her fine gown and crawled onto the soft, feathery bed, pulling its curtains closed behind hen
THREE
Marguerite woke once during the night, roused by a woman's hearty laughter. When she realized it must have been a dream, she sank back into slumber's deep embrace. In Darkon, dreams had often disturbed her sleep, bringing unwelcome visitors. But thankfully, for the rest of this night, no other phantoms made their presence known.
When she woke again, her mouth was dry and cottony, and her head felt leaden. She sat up and drew on her morning coat, vowing to imbibe less wine in the future.
