Avelina wrapped her arms around herself, as the air was quite cold, and stepped onto the balcony. She looked to her right. A young woman was there, alone, leaning against the railing, but she was not Magdalen.
“Good evening, Lady Dorothea.” Fronicka said her name slowly, drawing it out. “Come and have a talk with me.”
Avelina took a step forward, then stopped. Something was amiss. Where were Magdalen and Lord Thornbeck? Why was Fronicka here?
“It is a beautiful night, is it not?” Fronicka smiled in a friendly way—almost too friendly.
“It is.”
“A little warmer. Quite warm for this time of year.”
“Hm, yes.”
“The sky is beautiful. Did you notice?”
Avelina gazed up. Perhaps Lord Thornbeck and Magdalen decided they wanted to be alone. Another pang smote her breast, taking her breath. They would be married soon. Of course they did not want her around.
Fronicka motioned her closer to the railing. “If you stand over here, you can see a few of the lights from the town, and also a few more stars.”
How strange that Fronicka was behaving this way. Did she want something? “What are you doing out here gazing at the lights and the stars?”
“I had nothing else to do.” Fronicka smiled.
Cautiously Avelina approached the railing and looked out. She did not see the lights Fronicka had spoken of, but she did not care enough to ask her about them.
“So, is it you or Lady Magdalen who will marry Lord Thornbeck?”
Avelina started to say, “It is not I,” but she stopped herself. Fronicka was up to something. So she said, “I suppose only Lord Thornbeck knows the answer to that question.”
Fronicka looked over the balcony railing. “This is such a beautiful place, is it not? I can see the rose garden from here. Look.”
Avelina took another step closer. She laid her hand on the railing and looked down. The rose garden was visible to their right by the light spilling out from the lower-floor windows inside the castle. But straight down was a sheer drop, a ravine with small trees and bushes growing out of it, so deep she could not see the bottom. She looked back at Fronicka. The hair on the back of Avelina’s neck prickled and she shivered. She should have brought her cloak.
“Who are you, Lady Dorothea? Are you truly that lady? Or are you someone who has come here to take her place?”
Avelina stepped away from Fronicka, and the railing pressed into her lower back. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“No reason, except that I recall hearing that Lady Dorothea had golden blonde hair, and yours is brown. And that Lady Dorothea’s eyes were green, but yours are blue.”
“Many people’s hair darkens when they get older.” Let Fronicka not see panic in my face. “I don’t know why you are so suspicious, Lady Fronicka.”
Fronicka started fingering the embroidery on her belt. “I wanted to marry Lord Thornbeck, but he barely looks at me. He’s too busy spending time with you and Magdalen.”
“Why did you want to marry him so badly? There must be another titled man to whom your father could betroth you.”
“I had a reason to want to marry Lord Thornbeck.” Fronicka’s smile was cold and sent a shiver down Avelina’s spine.
“Are you in love with him?”
“What a naive thing you are. Of course not. Love has nothing to do with marriage.” Fronicka stared up at the sky for a moment. “I wanted to marry him to get Thornbeck. It rightly belongs to my father, and once I married him . . .”
“You would kill him, and your father would take over.”
“You are not as foolish as I thought.” Fronicka stepped toward Avelina.
She leaned back against the railing.
It suddenly gave way behind her.
Avelina cried out as the night air embraced her. She flailed out both hands and grabbed the part of the railing still attached to the balcony.
Her feet dangled below her. She was going to die.
She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came. O God, help me!
She clung to the railing with all her strength, her hands gripping the broken railing, the only thing keeping her from plunging to her death into the ravine below. She tried to pull herself up. She was not strong enough. Her heart jerked and pounded, her breath came in painful gasps.
She finally forced in enough air and screamed, short and high-pitched.
She held on tight, the muscles in her arms clenching painfully. If she let go, she would fall into the deep ravine below. She would never survive such a fall. She screamed again.