The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle

Their persecutors return

B

efore they could put their plan into action, Lady Wyvern and Lord Graviton returned. The castle had been unsettled for several days, with more boats than usual crossing to and from the mainland, and a veritable army of maids coming and going from the tower on the other side of the courtyard. They were cleaning, Madeline concluded, watching one staggering in through the door under a yoke of buckets.

Morris, when asked, denied anything was different, and Polly giggled, her usual response to a question she was forbidden to answer.

When their captors arrived, Madeline and Rupert were in their sanctuary, Madeline knitting while he played his violin. The sound of more than two pairs of feet on the stairs alerted Rupert to the danger.

"Madeline, hide the ladder," he hissed, an urgent whisper, not ceasing his playing, and she scrambled to thrust it into the chest beside her, regaining her seat with another set of needles and a half-finished baby bonnet just as Lady Wyvern and Lord Graviton entered¾without first knocking.

Rupert glowered as he kept playing. Madeline's first reaction was to stand, but she reminded herself she outranked them both, and remained seated. The knitting helped keep her hands steady, and her voice was deceptively calm as she said, "Lady Wyvern, Graviton." She inclined her head graciously, as she imagined a countess ought to do.

Lady Wyvern's nostrils flared, but she returned the greeting: "Lady Penworth."

"Please be seated," Madeline managed, moments before Lady Wyvern sat without invitation. Graviton, though, prowled the room, picking things up and putting them down. How dare he invade their space and handle their things? Madeline commanded her body not to shake, her trembling now as much anger as fear.

Rupert was on the second and final movement of the piece he had been playing. Lady Wyvern regarded him with open dislike, then turned her frown on Madeline, talking loudly to be heard over the music. "Morris informs me the two of you spend most of your time up here. How can you stand the racket Penworth makes?"

"His Lordship is very talented," Madeline replied. "I am privileged to hear him."

"Hmm." Lady Wyvern did not sound convinced. The smile she plastered on did not reach her eyes. "You are fortunate to find it so. What is that you are knitting, countess? Something for the baby?"

Madeline did not believe the pleasantries for a moment, but she responded in kind, holding out the half-finished cap, knitting needles and all. "A cap, Lady Wyvern."

Lady Wyvern gave it a cursory glance. "Yes. Very nice. Very suitable."

Graviton leaned against the back of Lady Wyvern's chair, brushing her neck with his fingers. "Yes, yes. I am sure we all want to sit around all afternoon being entertained by your brother and admiring my sister's industry, while the King's man snoops to his heart's delight."

Rupert kept playing, but Madeline, who had heard this particular sonata many times, caught the slight misstep that indicated he had heard.

"The King's man is thinking of nothing but his bath and a rest before dinner, my dear James," Lady Wyvern scolded. "We have time to coach Lord and Lady Penworth in their part. And Penworth will not give us his full attention if he is not allowed to finish."

Graviton pushed away and circled the room again, pacing with short, jerky steps, as if he could not contain his energy.

"How long?" he barked at Madeline. A matter of seconds, as it happened. Rupert was on the final bars, as anyone whose ears were not made of cloth could have heard. Not that she would say that. In their few encounters since her father had died, most of them on the journey here to Wyvern Castle, Madeline had learned to be wary of her brother's reaction when anything touched his pride.