Fifteen

Dark Nights

Gratia sat in her bedroom with her needle and thread, embroidering the hem of a petticoat. It had been hours since she had come home and still Gale and Lizzy sat talking in the kitchen. She felt angry that they were shutting her out. After all, it was she who was his lover, not Lizzy. It hurt that he was talking to her of his troubles instead. She pricked her finger on the needle and took a sharp breath.

Sighing, she went to the water pitcher and cleaned the wound. Looking out of the window, something caught her eye. There in the tree that stood beyond the glass, was a small sliver of green material. Gratia frowned, trying to get a better look. She shrugged, deciding that it must have been children climbing.

The door opened behind her and she spun around. It was Gale. Gratia glared and turned her back on him.

“Don’t be like that,” he said softly. Gratia stood in silence. “Look, I’m sorry.” He moved up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she shrugged them off. “Ok, I lost my temper. What more can I say?”

Gratia spun around with a fiery growl. “Yes, but you ran to her with your troubles, not me!”

Gale stood there looking as if a firework had gone off in his hand. Slowly, he regained his calm gaze and spoke. “She is my oldest friend.”

“And I am your lover!”

“Ah.” He gave a throaty chuckle. “I see what this is about. You are jealous, no?”

“No! Not jealous, hurt. Hurt that you didn’t come to me with your problems. Hurt that you don’t trust me enough to care. Hurt that you shut me out!”

Gale gave a resigned sigh and turned away from her. He walked to the bed and sat down. “I didn’t think you’d understand. Besides, it’s not something I care to discus.”

“Oh, well then,” she spat in mocking sarcasm, “that’s all right then, isn’t it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, no I won’t shut up.” Suddenly an idea hit her. She pulled herself up to full height and took a deep breath. “Either you trust me or you don’t. If you don’t then there’s no point in me staying here.”

Gale looked at her, surprised. “You mean you’d leave me?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.” She stared at him coldly.

“No, you wouldn’t. But if it should keep you quiet, then I’d be glad to tell you. Sit down.” He beckoned her to sit in the large oak chair by the window. “Something has happened to someone I knew.”

“What do you mean, something has happened?”

He sighed. “Let me finish, woman. There was a lady here, with the fair. I used to know her.”

“You used to love her,” Gratia offered.

Gale paused for a moment and then nodded. “I used to love her. That was all a long time ago. Anyway, she has gone missing. Her people are searching for her at this very moment, but they fear the worst.”

“What do you mean, she’s gone missing? You mean she ran away?”

Gale’s jaw knotted. “No, they don’t think so. They found her dress by the river, ripped and bloodied.”

Gratia’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, I see.” 

Delighla cut the knife deep into the dead rabbit’s neck and peeled back its skin like a fold of material. The fire crackled away merrily and the spit was heating up quickly. It wasn’t the food she wished for, but it was all there was. According to her parchment, she was roughly two miles from the gates of Lariaan. It would be easy under cover of darkness to sneak back in.

It would be dark soon, then she would teach him a lesson he would never forget. No one had ever talked to her like that and lived to boast about it. She gutted the rabbit and thrust the spit through it. Placing it across the flames, she smiled as the cold blood fizzed and crackled on the carcass.

It had been such a shame. If only he hadn’t married she could have seduced him all over again, but he had seemed too stubborn to turn around this time.

A few hours passed and the woodland began to team with the sound of insects and small animals. Delighla awoke and sat up, momentarily lost. Soon, though, she recalled the events of the past day: the dumping of her old clothes by the river, running a knife through the cheap cotton and smearing it with chicken blood to worry anyone who found it. Then she had come out here to hide. Now it was time to find Gale.

For many months now, she had found herself becoming bored with the travelling fair. The man she had been engaged to and left Gale for had, in turn, run away to marry a village girl. Delighla had taught them a lesson too, one they would never be able to talk about. She laughed to herself as she pulled on her cowl, slipping the hood over her head and casting her face in shadow. She lit her lamp from the smoulders of the fire and began her two mile trek back to Lariaan.

Gratia awoke. A sliver of moonlight covered her face, stinging her eyes. She slipped out from between the covers and walked to the window. They had forgotten to close the curtains before retiring. The snatch of material was still caught in the branch outside, moving lightly in the breeze.

As Gratia pulled the heavy curtains across the window, something else caught her eye. At first she was not sure what it was that had made her pause, but when she moved her head she saw the twinkle again. Bending down and straining her sight, she took a closer look at the bottom pane of glass. All the way around the pane was a very thin hairline crack. If it hadn’t been for the moonlight, she would never have noticed it. Running a finger across, she realised that it was on the outside of the window. A noise made her jump. Her heart raced as she realised that it was only a tree branch tapping at the glass. That must have been what caused the crack, she thought to herself. She would have to tell Gale about it in the morning.

Finally pulling the curtains, she made her way back to the bed and pulled back the covers. She rested her head on the pillow and turned to face Gale, who was dreaming deeply. She whispered softly, “I love you.” 

Giving a contented smile, she slipped an arm around him and soon fell fast asleep.

Delighla sat in the tree, knife poised by her side. Gently, she pushed against the window pane until it folded in and fell to the rug bellow without a sound. Slipping her arm through the hole, she flicked the latch up and slipped in. A sickly grin crossed her lips.