βThis is most wonderful news!β Beamed Ellsa.
βMost wonderful indeed!β Seconded Claretta joyously.
The slight shrouded figure sat on sable fur in front of the blazing hearth stiffened. Her breath halting for a long moment before it began coming in short sharp rasps.
No! It could not be! She must have heard wrong . . .
βOh Larkyn my dearest! The Maker's grace will make you a most joyous bride!β Added Aunt Ellsa.
Lark surged to her feet as shock rocketed through her being. Grabbing the piece of parchment with an audible scrunching of paper, her gray violet eyes dashed from left to right, scanning the writing through the dark netted veil that hid her pretty features from the world.
β
No!β She whispered furiously, chest heaving as the parchment crumpled within her tight grasp. β
No! The Maker will not make me a joyous bride!β Larkyn cried as she swept out of the chamber in a fury of dark velvet and lace.
βLarkyn!β
βDearest?β
The confused and disturbed voices of her aunts deaf to her ears under the sound of her own pounding heart.
How could Isodell do this to her?! Larkyn cursed as she entered the Library of Halen Hall. Her sanctuary. But it was not peace she was seeking here today.
Yanking the draw of a desk open carelessly, Larkyn pulled out a piece of foolscap. Dipping her quill in ink she began writing furiously. The scrapping of the nib on the parchment almost vicious.
How could Isodell ask this of her? No. Not ask.
Demand! Larkyn's ire ignited to uncontrollable heights. She would not do it! Isodell could not make her.
She refused!How happy she had been, Larkyn mused morosely, when the letter had arrived from Isodell after so very long. How she longed to hear from her cousin sister. She had not been able to contain her excitement as she plopped herself down in front of the fire at her two aunts feet and listened as they read the missive out loud.
And how all that excitation had quickly been altered to dread and her stomach had churned as each cold word had been read.
Sanding the ink, Lark quickly stamped the letter closed with the De Hugh seal and ran out of the library down to the great dinning hall. She must catch that messenger before he departed.
βMistress Larkyn?β The Knight she barreled into in her haste questioned quizzically of the usually composed young lady.
β
The Messenger?β Lark wheezed, trying to catch her breath. β
He-He was here I believe. The one that came from Langsmerth from my Lady cousin. Is he-β
βYou've just missed him, Mistress Lark.β The De Hugh Knight informed her, concern marring his sturdy face. βYou maybe able to catch him still . . .
But, is everything alright?β
β
Quite.β Lark replied in a much steady tone now. β
Or at least it will be.β She added as she turned and made haste to catch the Courier, leaving the Knight to his confusion.
She must catch him! This could not be delayed. As far as Larkyn was concerned it might as well have been a matter of life or death.
It was her life that hung in the balance!β
Halt!β She shouted as she sprinted into the outer Keep of Halen Hall. No doubt she had ran at least half a league all the way down here.
The Messenger boy was just about to mount his steed when an almost ghostly apparition stopped him. A well endowed woman but he could not see a single bit of her except her fair hands. The rest of her was draped in a wealth of dark velvet and lace.
Huffing and puffing she stopped before him. All the eyes of the Knights, peasants and passing travelers standing in the Keep riveted on the mysterious woman.
β
Give this to your Mistress.β She ordered in a steely tone shoving a sealed note into his chest and just as quickly as she had come she whipped around and returned whence she had come . . .