I awoke from what seemed like a timeless sleep and found myself lying on an canopied, indigo-coloured bed in a large, dark room. Also in the room was a chair and table, on which there lay a candle in a clean, exquisitely-carved, silver candle holder with a small, round handle.
A tall, masculine silhouette entered the room and sat on the chair by the table, the flame revealing few features of his face. He sat with his back straight and his eyes set on the unmoving flame. He wore a dark cloak which seemed to disappear into the floor in this light, held together by a silver clasp. Nothing else was clearly visible to me under his cloak but his white cravat.
"Are you awake?" he asked me without looking away from the candle and its flame.
"Yes," I replied in what was supposed to be a strong, brave voice, but escaped from my lips as a weak, croaky whisper. It was as if I hadn't used my voice in months; just how long was I asleep?
"You were asleep for quite a while; specifically, seven months and a half," the man said. It seemed as if he had heard my mind speak! No, that was not possible; it was merely coincidence.
"There are no coincidences, my dear," he smiled. He heard my mind again!
"How can you do that?" I ask, my voice no better than before.
"That question will be answered later on," he replied, finally looking up. He stood and extended his hand out to me, "Come, now."
I took his hand and stepped off the bed.
"Where am I?" I asked him, my voice warming up slightly.
"In my house; in my castle," he answered and edged forward a pair of slippers.
Looking down, I realised my feet were bare so I slid them into the slippers. I also noticed I was dressed in a dark gown of thin, light material.
"A castle? You're royalty?" I looked up at him. My voice was now a loud whisper.
"I was," he replied.
The man opened the door and led me out into a grey, stone hallway with few candles on the walls. Big, bright torches illuminated a small spiral staircase to our right.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice soft, but no longer raspy.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "What does matter is what is happening now."
"What's your name?" My voice had almost come back to normal.
"Count Viktor Darke." He made a small bow. "I apologise for not introducing myself."
"Not at all, Count Darke," I curtsied in return to his bow. "My name is Devona Cartwright, pleased to make your acquaintance." My voice was finally back to normal.
He smiled, "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Cartwright."
Count Darke held his hand out and to his surprise I grasped it firmly and shook it. The moment of surprise faded quickly as he smiled and grasped my hand with the same confidence.
He led me left and around a corner, which lightened as it lengthened. Light grey stone steps led us up to a grand room with ivory white walls and elaborate décor. In the centre of the room stood a large wooden table with 22 chairs around it; 2 places were set.
The Count pulled a chair back for me and I sat. He sat at the end of the table, to my right, and as soon as he had seated himself, a man of 50-or-so years entered through a doorway near the other end of the table.
"Ah, George," Count Darke addressed the man.
"Sir," George replied.
"Would you get some food and drink for Miss Cartwright, here?" he asked, and then turned to me. "Miss Cartwright, this is my butler, George."
"It's a pleasure to meet you George," I nod and smile.
"And you, young Miss," George bowed slightly, and then asked Count Darke, "And for yourself, sir?"
"A glass of my wine, if you would, George," the Count said.
"Certainly, sir," George nodded, then left.
"Count Darke," I turned to him, "How did I get here?"
"I found you lying on a road when I went into town and decided to bring you here," he answered.
"Did you see a young man anywhere? He has light brown hair and light green eyes like mine," I described Frederick for him.
"I'm afraid not, my dear. Is he a friend?"
"He's my brother."
"Oh, dear. I suppose you want to find him, don't you?"
"Yes, if it wouldn't trouble you, Count Darke."
"Not at all, Miss Cartwright, but first you must eat."
At that moment, George came in with a silver tray.
"Your meal, Miss," he laid a glass of water and plate of food in front of me. It smelled delicious.
"Your wine, sir," he slid a glass of dark red wine in front of Count Darke.
"Thank you, George," the Count said.
"Sir, Miss," George nodded and slipped out of the room.
"Count Darke?" I said. "How did I survive without anything to eat for all those months?"
"You'll know soon enough, my dear," he replied. "For now, eat."
I did so and the food tasted magnificent! Oh, what I would give for food like this at home. I so wished Frederick and Sofia, my sister, could taste it.
As I ate, I observed Count Darke in the better light. He looked about 40 or so, but had hardly any wrinkles on his face. His hair was short and jet black with not even one silver hair, or none that presented itself to me anyway. He had a sharp, angled jaw, thin lips, a strong nose and light-toned skin. His eyebrows were quite thin, in relative to other males, and had shining black eyes underneath them.
After I'd finished my meal, I took a sip of water and swallowed. It tasted... not quite right. Too plain, even for water. I found myself staring at the Count's wine glass as he swirled the dark red liquid around, and around, and around, and around......
