“The Countess? Why, I’ve never seen such a beautiful woman before!” Finona recounted excitedly, her eyes shining like stars.

  “The Countess? Chilled me to the bone she did, in all my days I have never before laid eyes on such a gruesome visage.” A Knight van der Leigh shared with one of his brethren, his brow furrowed and skin pale at the memory.

  “Like a fallen angel, she was!” Said one Stoppridge man over a drink, his eyes alight and tone awestruck. “Looked like she’d walked through the fires of Hell an’ back out, and yet she was still radiant–and powerful!”

  “She was like a white rose in full bloom, but whose petals had become marred with rot. Haunting, yet captivating.” Relayed the Knight-Captain as he waxed poetic.

  Niklas’ eye twitched as his head throbbed in irritation. He marched back and forth through the castle halls as he interviewed one man after another. His arms were wrapped tightly over his chest, and his hurried gait was weighed down by a tense slouch, so that coupled with his short stature, he bore not a small resemblance to an upset child.

  “You’re telling me that everyone in this Castle has seen my wife’s face except for me?!?” He snapped tersely at his two servants, who were stumbling along behind him with matching distressed and worried expressions.

  “Sir, you really must not move so strenuously! The Medical Officer said to–”

  “--What about you?” Niklas demanded, abruptly stopping to turn back and glare sternly up at Hemsley. “Have you as well?”

  The young servant put his hands behind his back and avoided Niklas’ gaze, his thin face sporting what was clearly a guilty look. Niklas scoffed bitterly and spun on his heels to continue on his way. As the trio went around the corner, however, Niklas came to yet another sudden halt, which this time forced his two servants to stop with so little warning that they were sent crashing into each other. But Niklas did not have eyes for their mishap, for there, standing at the landing to the stairs which led up and up in a spiral towards Niklas’ room, was the Lady Merida of Stoppridge. She turned to greet him as he approached.

  “My Lord Count… a word, if you would?”

  If Niklas had needed any kind of confirmation of the shared blood relation between Lady Merida and Countess Uldred, their matching abilities to fill any conversation with numerous long, awkward silences would most assuredly count as one. However, where her niece would hesitate to speak due to an obvious lack of experience in communication, Lady Merida would fall into silences that seemed more aloof, as if she was simply lost in thought. Regardless of this difference, it still made for a painfully quiet experience, and Niklas found himself peeking anxiously back over his shoulder at his companion as they both steadily ascended that tight staircase which led into the spire. The only sounds in that small space were their breaths, the faint rustles of their clothing, and the rhythmic clicks of his cane as it struck against the stone steps.

  She was the one who requested a private word, so why isn’t she saying anything? Niklas asked himself, grimacing as he felt a bead of sweat run down his brow, summoned just as much by the weight of his social anxiety as it was by the physically arduous walk.

  Then, as he lifted and bent his knee to take another step, when he placed his weight upon it he unexpectedly felt the entire limb go limp and wobbly, as if his bones had been turned to putty! He stumbled dangerously backwards in surprise as he was thrown off-balance, but he then found himself caught firmly in Lady Merida’s steady arms.

  “Careful, my Lord, you are not yet fully recovered.” She reminded him as she gently set him onto his feet once more, although her hands stayed supportively upon his back as he gingerly tested his balance.

  “Th-thank you.” Niklas stammered, wobbling a bit on his feet for a moment before finding his strength once again.

  Cute. Merida thought to herself, her lips lifting in a minute smile as she watched him clamber up a few more steps. She stared at the back of his neck–which, like the rest of him, was unnaturally skinny–and she recalled a similar sight from many, many years earlier: a brief moment wherein a woman’s hair had fallen to one side and exposed an equally delicate nape. He reminds me of sister-in-law...

  They fell back into silence as they finished the rest of their journey upwards. Finally, mercifully, they arrived at the doorway which led into Niklas’ small but comfortable living-quarters. Niklas fiddled with his ring of keys as he stood before the door, but his efforts were to no avail, for his hands had begun to shake uncontrollably in a clear sign that he had overexerted himself. Lady Merida reached down over his shoulder and put her hands atop his to help steady his grip.

  “Pardon me, my Lord.” She said dutifully, her tone soft and even, yet without a hint of pity.

  “Thank you... once again.” He replied, feeling a little embarrassed at how close they stood in that moment, her face so close to his he could feel her breath skirting just past his ear.

  Thankfully the Lady quickly found the correct key, plucked the whole ring of them from his hands, and then inserted it into the lock and turned it herself, eliciting an audible and successful click from the mechanism inside. While she busied herself with this effort, Niklas turned his head slightly and stole a glance at the profile of her face. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, her features sharp and defined, and she also had those familiar, striking violet eyes.

  I wonder how much my wife resembles her..? He mused to himself as his eyes carefully catalogued every detail of her appearance.

  The door creaked ajar and Lady Merida finally took a step back and resumed a respectful distance, gesturing for him to enter the chamber first. Niklas furrowed his brow and returned the gesture himself, indicating that she should enter first. She simply nodded in acknowledgement and stepped past him and inside. As she swept over to one of the two chairs which sat before the unlit fireplace, Niklas leaned his cane against the wall and walked over to an end table upon which stood a dark bottle and a few fine, delicate glasses.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Wine?” He asked, to which she silently nodded in assent.

  Retrieving and filling two of the glasses, he walked over to the other seat, which stood opposite hers and also faced towards the fireplace. He placed their beverages upon a small table which separated the two seats.

  “Now, what was it you wished to discuss?”

  She did not answer him immediately, instead gracefully retrieving her glass and swirling its contents, raising it first to take a deep inhale of the aroma of the wine, before finally taking a small sip. She made a sound then that was equal parts pleased and surprised, looking down at the contents of her glass with much more enthusiasm than she had previously.

  “Gifted to me by the late Mayor Borney.” Niklas informed her. “I hate to admit it, but there was a single arena in which his competence was beyond reproach: his taste in food and drink.”

  Lady Merida chuckled a little at that. “Truly, if he had not been so poisoned with greed and ambition, he could have been a very talented chef.”

  Niklas breathed in deeply, the aroma of the wine reminding him of the scent of humid rain, and then took a sip from his own glass, closing his eyes briefly as he enjoyed the smooth texture and delightfully complex fruity and nutty flavor.

  “Aye. A shame, that.”

  Lady Merida set her own glass back upon the table, then crossed one leg over the other and placed her hands upon her knee with their fingers interlocked. She cleared her throat softly, clearly as a means to convey the beginning of their conversation rather than to clear any actual blockage.

  “So, I hear from my people that you have been asking around the Castle to find out more about my niece?” She asked him pointedly.

  Anxiety began to bubble up in Niklas’ stomach at her prodding. “Y-yes.” He replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “It is a little embarrassing to hear that it has come to your attention.”

  “Is it? As the story goes, you were also in something of a state at the time.”

  Niklas could only chuckle nervously in reply, a little ashamed of how childishly he had been acting only a few hours prior. “Yes, well, you see when it was discovered that my wife’s... countenance had been revealed to all present against her wishes I was... concerned! Yes, quite concerned for her wellbeing.” He stammered out, desperately scrambling to maintain even a sliver of his dignity. “Such a thing could be quite a traumatic event, I simply wished to make sure that she was... well.”

  “...You acted out after you realized that you were the only one who didn’t get to see her face.” Lady Merida replied to him, her calm expression slowly splitting into a knowing Cheshire grin. The truth of her words struck so painfully through his heart that he groaned and slumped back in his chair so dramatically it nearly toppled backwards to send him sprawling on the floor!

  So he’s the jealous type then? The Lady Mayor thought to herself with a little smile, as Niklas struggled to steady himself. How cute!

  Then her face and voice smoothed back over once more and she straightened her posture as she prepared to talk business. Niklas started as he noticed this shift, and he quickly straightened his own spine as well, though he looked uncertain and his brow furrowed as his nerves returned.

  “My Lord, the reason that I asked to speak with you today was to give you fair warning.” She said, and noticing his alarm in reaction to that statement, she put out a hand before herself to indicate he should finish hearing her out. “This is not a warning of a danger to your life... but, rather, what may be a danger to your young heart.”

  A danger to my heart..? Niklas repeated incredulously in his head.

  Lady Merida frowned and paused then as if taking a moment to choose her words carefully, crossing one leg over the other and placing her laced fingers on top of them as she thought. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again.

  “My Lord, if you shall permit me, I would like to recount to you a tale from my past. Perhaps it would convey my feelings and my worries better than a simple explanation would...”

  Niklas did not reply but nodded slowly to beckon her to continue. I wonder what this is all about..?

  The Lady exhaled softly through her nose, seeming almost dejected that he agreed to hear her out. “Well then, this all happened many, many years ago…”

  “My Lady, please! I cannot keep up!” A delightful, silvery voice giggled out at Merida’s back.

  The Lady agreeably slowed her gait, allowing the smaller woman whose hand was clasped tightly in her own to follow without any further stumbling. Merida’s companion had fair skin and platinum-blonde hair, standing about a head shorter than Merida herself. Her stature was thin and light enough that she appeared to have the constitution of a glass sculpture, and yet somehow she was also enticingly curvaceous, as she had spent her entire youth strapped into a tight waist-training corset. Her facial features were sharp and defined, with long thin lips and cat-like sapphire eyes framed by pale lashes.

  “I’m sorry Aewyn! I wasn’t thinking!” Merida cried with some dismay, coming to an immediate halt and staring down at the smaller woman’s thin wrists, where her skin had indeed reddened from irritation under her companion’s grasp.

  “It’s fine, Merry!” The woman laughed, entirely unperturbed, beaming up at Merida.

  Merida was forced to swiftly avert her gaze then, for a deep scarlet flush had overtaken over her face, and her heart thumped painfully fast within her chest.

  “Besides, I think we’re far enough away by now that nobody is going to find us.”

  “You think so–” Merida was about to ask, just before the blonde lass flung herself up and into her arms, causing Merida to startle and stumble. Thankfully the other woman was so light that a wet woolen cloth would have been a heavier burden, and soon enough she had draped herself across Merida’s forearms as comfortably as she would a chaise lounge.

  “Onward!” Aewyn cried, pointing her finger out towards the edge of the forest that lay just beyond the sunny field through which they had just run.

  “Why c-can’t you walk?” Demanded Merida, now entirely red in the face.

  Aewyn wore a pouty frown in reply. “I’m tired!” She huffed. “Someone made me run all of this way. So, now you get to carry me!” She wrapped her slim arms around Merida’s neck and snuggled into her collar. Merida let out an exhausted sigh and then began to tromp forth into the dappled shade beneath the trees. As they went, Aewyn ran her hands through Merida’s hair and tussled it messily.

  “You’ve begun to grow it out!” She exclaimed with surprise.

  Merida huffed, “They have finally decided that it is time for me to look properly lady-like. Your father’s influence, no doubt.”

  “Flowing hair and a dress? That will be a sight to see!” Aewyn laughed. “You know, when we were first introduced I thought that you and your cousin were two brothers.”

  “Yes well, Aunt and Uncle had only ever expected to raise a boy. They knew not what to do when I was thrust into their lap, so they went with what they knew.”

  Aewyn sighed at first, but then she replied thoughtfully. “I suppose it is just as well. If I had known you were a girl I might not have...” She did not finish her statement, though with the rosy color that bloomed across her pale cheeks she didn’t really need to. “...well, at least not at first.”

  Merida simply smiled and gently tightened her embrace before continuing on their way.