Visions (The Daevas #2)

20 | Lost

January 29, 1521

Sussex, England

I walk the silhouetted halls of the castle, the candelabras on each carved walls glowing dim as an ember. I do not know where to go but all I need is a walk to keep me calm; to release all this confusion even for just this night. The hall I am walking through is only populated by two porters on each door and they glance at me. I ignore them.

My eyes feel so puffy and heavy because of my tears, but what can I do?

As I reach the area where the main solar is, I see the duke's bailiff, Stephen, standing in the doorway, his body tense and hesitant, holding a tray of food covered in silver to keep warm. He does not notice me for my footsteps are small and silent on the stone floor. I watch him, lifting his fist up on the door but letting it fall eventually as an afterthought. He repeats it over and over again, sometimes he even opens his mouth as if to try to at least call Edmund but he suddenly stops and grows silent trying to think of another tactic that he and I know will fail.

"If you don't try, nothing will happen," I hear myself say. I know that it still will not work, but some part of me also wants to try as bad as the bailiff.

"My lady!" Stephen says, startled. He tries to bow in his awkward position, for he is holding the tray, but I only raise my hand to stop him from doing so. He clears his throat.

"Has it been five hours since he first entered?" I query, hearing my voice a little shaky from my crying. I nod my head to the door in front of us.

"No, my lady," he admits. "It has been nearly seven of the hours. We are all worried for him, though we know not what we ought to do. He is in a rather ill temper and 'tis rare to see him like this. We know that if he is in a bad state of mood, 'tis not a good sign." Suddenly remembering who is is speaking to, he bows awkwardly once more. "Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to gossip."

"Worry not." I look at the tray he is holding and the contents on it. "How many minutes have you been standing here?"

He looks uncomfortable, trying to bend his knees a little. "More than half an hour, my lady," he confesses. "The staff and I take turns."

"I hope that food is still esculent," I say. "May I?" At his nod, I open the silver cover and see that the food is quite as it used to be, though not as hot and fresh as it was. My decision already made, I grab the tray from his hands. Stephen seems a bit surprised at my taking the edible he has for his master; but I just say, emitting a sound of weak laughter, "'Tis all right, Stephen, I can handle it from here. I am positive that you truly have to take a seat what with you bouncing a bit up and down on your feet."

We both stare at his booted feet, and with a thank you of gratitude and wish of good luck with the task at hand, he leaves in relief. I take a deep breath and nod to the guard on my right to open the door for me.

And there...I see Edmund. Not his face nor his back. I simply see his right arm holding a bottle of brandy. There is another bottle at his feet, though 'tis empty already. I gasp at knowing that he is attempting to get thoroughly foxed. 'Tis not Edmund at all to drink so much. Albeit I cannot blame him at all for wanting to do this...'tis wrong. 'Tis so very wrong.

"E-Edmund?" I stutter.

I walk to the side of his chair. His eyes are staring into the bright flames of the roaring fire in the chamber, his forehead having beads of perspiration from staying in front of the fire for so long. He looks gaunt with his fair hair ruffled from raking it with his fingers many times just by thinking about his wife and cousin together.

I hold back my tears and sobs.

"Care to apprise me about something?" Edmund says blankly.

He takes a hefty gulp of the bottle.