“Please forgive us.”
“Let us go.” He ushered them out, placing his body between them and the door that led to a sheer drop to the ground far below, and then followed close behind them. When they were past the end of the corridor, he mumbled, “Need to have someone seal up this entrance.”
They stood in front of the solar, back where they had started. Would he berate them for their curiosity? Was he angry?
“The third floor of the west wing is a dangerous place. You could have been killed if you’d stepped out that door.”
“Forgive us,” Magdalen said again.
“It was I who wished to go to the west wing,” Avelina said quickly. “I dragged Lady Magdalen with me.”
Lord Thornbeck sighed and ran his hand over his eyes. “The bedchamber where I found you is where my brother died. I tried to save them, but it was too late.”
“Them?” Avelina asked.
His face was angled slightly away from them as he stared at the floor. He nodded, an ever-so-slight movement. “My brother, Henrich, and Annlin. She was his . . . they were lovers, even though she was . . . a servant.” He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, as though in pain. “The absurdity of a margrave and a servant . . .”
Avelina’s stomach churned. No doubt that was how he would feel if she fell in love with him. “A servant.” He said it as if it was the worst thing in the world. “Absurd.” But she couldn’t let Magdalen or him know how his words twisted inside her heart like a knife.
“We argued about it the day he died. I tried to convince him to give her up, to realize how wrong the relationship was. He was angry with me—and very drunk—when he went to bed that night. I can never seem to forget that. It was partially my fault he died. If I had not been so harsh in what I said, if he had not been so drunk . . .”
Avelina’s heart seemed to actually be breaking inside her chest at the pain in his voice and in his face. “I am so sorry.” Her words sounded empty.
“The woman is Annlin’s mother, Endlein, a kitchen servant. She became very addled, as you have seen, after the death of her daughter. She wanders up here sometimes to this room, as if she knows this was the last place where her daughter was alive.” He shook his head. “Even though she is no longer able to work, I cannot send her away.”
“That is kind of you,” Avelina said.
He stared down into her eyes. If Magdalen had not been present, she would have thought he was thinking about kissing her, the way he seemed to be staring at her lips.
How he would hate her if he found out she was a servant, that he was opening his inmost thoughts to someone so far beneath him.
Lord Thornbeck drew back and cleared his throat. “I need to have someone build a wall over the doorway to the burned balcony, and close off that entire corridor. But in the meantime—” He focused his eyes on Avelina. “Do not go near it.”
“How did you know we were there?” Avelina asked.
“I didn’t. Odette came to tell me the servants couldn’t find Endlein, so I went up there to look for her.”
“Lord Thornbeck?” Chancellor Jorgen rounded the corner. “Are you ready to sign these documents?”
“Ladies, excuse me.”
He went to attend to his duties, while Avelina and Magdalen went back to their bedchambers. He did have a temper. She had seen it displayed when her horse had those sharp shards of pottery underneath its saddle and he’d shouted at his servants and guards, and she’d seen anger in his eyes and heard it in his voice when he found them in the west wing. What would he do if he discovered she’d been deceiving him all this time?
16
AVELINA SAT LISTENING to the local musicians and singers Lord Thornbeck had invited to the Great Hall. A woman sang and was accompanied by a man playing a hurdy-gurdy, another playing the lute, as well as a flute player and drummer. They were quite good, and Avelina enjoyed the music. It was not often she was allowed to listen in when traveling musicians came to Plimmwald Castle, though she usually found a way to sneak into the shadows to hear some of it.
Magdalen, seated beside her, looked so peaceful as she listened to the music with her eyes closed. Avelina closed hers too. The music seemed to surround her. It was as if she could hear each instrument separately, as well as together. The woman’s voice sounded richer, fuller, and she found herself taking a deep breath and sighing without even meaning to. She sighed again.
When the song was over, she opened her eyes—and Lord Thornbeck was standing several feet away, watching her.