Her name was Raven

Chapter 6

She stayed two weeks. She came to know the routine, the manor, and the horses. Duran had more than one. The stables were beautiful; cleaned and maintained by two faithful grooms. One was an old scrubby wrinkled man and the other was a thin young wisp. Both came to be used to her and greeted her in the mornings when she visited Robin, who was doing very well.

Then, of course, there was Duran. Raven had read a few romances in the library. She wasn’t even sure how they’d come to be there, but she recognised the feeling of fluttering butterflies and girlish excitement from the descriptions on the pages. Did love actually exist? It was a fascinating puzzle.

Duran kept asking her questions that seemed cordial, but Raven knew he was trying to unravel where she came from. She tried to be friendly and give the appearance of being open, but she still had nightmares, and a tingling at the back of her neck that wouldn’t fade. She had settled into security, and had forgotten where she’d come from.

Raven and Duran sat in the garden, her favourite place, and ate tea. The cupcakes were light frothy delicacies that melted in the mouth. Raven nibbled at her second, pausing to moan a little. Duran smiled.

“I didn’t know my cooking was that good,” he remarked. Raven nearly choked on the cupcake.

“You made these?” she asked.

Duran chuckled, “well, the cook icened them. I’ve never been good at presentation.”

“I’m impressed,” Raven said. A gentleman who could bake! Duran read her expression.

“My mother insisted, she used to make me sit in the kitchen and watch. She said ‘if you can ride a horse, hunt and keep the books you should be able to cook’ I think she thought we might lose our staff and didn’t want me starving. What about you? Can you cook?”

Raven dodged the insinuated question about her past once again. “I can, a little. My uncle taught me some things, like scrambled eggs.”

“I’m sure I’d love to have your scrambled eggs,”

“Well,” Raven paused to cover the blush. “They’re edible at least”

“What about your mother?”

“I never knew her.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Why? You had nothing to do with it”

“That you never had a mother, I meant,”

Raven stood up abruptly then sat back down.

“I won’t talk about my past,” she said, looking down and picking at a cupcake crumb.

“I guessed when you changed the topic whenever I brought up family or home.”

“You can’t prod me.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“The garden is very beautiful this time of day,” Raven said stubbornly.

“Yes, yes it is,” Duran said with a smile and dropped the previous subject. “It was my mother’s passion, and my grandmother’s before her. Each generation has added onto the old herb garden, which is now at the centre of the maze. My father had a night garden planted after my mother remarked how wonderful it would be if she was surrounded by flowers all day and all night.”

“He must have really loved her.”

“He does.” Duran leaned in, just a little. Raven didn’t move away, she just breathed out softly. “The night garden begins to bloom at dusk, and some of the sweetest smelling plants grow best at night.”

“I’ve yet to see it,” Raven said, her voice dropped. For some reason she felt she couldn’t speak more than barely a whisper. Duran stroked her hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“I’ll show you sometime,” he whispered. Raven’s eyes fluttered shut and she enjoyed the silent company for a while. They were still leaning into each other, just a little, still a proper distance apart yet it felt like any further and she would be in his lap.

Raven leant into him further and whispered in his ear, “thank you.”

There was a rattle and a neigh from the stables on the other side of the manor.

“I’ll go,” Raven said, hastily standing up. Duran let out a shaky breath as she walked away.

***

She walked out into the courtyards that lead to the stables. The old stable hand had left his flask of whiskey on the gatepost. He didn’t drink while he worked, mostly. A large black crow darted down from the sky and landed on the gatepost, sending the flask tumbling. It smashed into the ground and glass danced outwards. The crow looked at Raven then turned its head. On one side its eye was gouged out and an ugly welt ran across its head. Raven stopped, frozen, and a memory came unwanted that filled her with dread.

They were in a strange laboratory. Cages hung from the ceilings. Animals were trapped inside. Most had given up on screeching or ramming the cage but a few birds viciously attacked each other, locked together without food. Men stood around a table full of bottles and strange boiling substances. One man held a glass flask up to the light. It flashed golden before the liquid inside melted to a clear consistency. Another waved his hand in excitement, accidently knocking a small vial from the table. It shattered against the stone floor and the man with the flask cursed. They shrugged their shoulders and muttered that it wasn’t important before turning back to the flask. A crow peered down from a cage at her, its one eye cold and calculating. It wanted to taste her flesh, she could tell. She backed unsteadily away and saw a starved rat commit suicide as it dived into a boiling vat in the corner. Its tiny cramped cage sat nearby, the latch slightly ajar. She turned and ran from the room that reeked of death and suffering, her hand clasped over her nose and mouth to try and not breathe the foul stench.

Raven jumped at what had to be a coincidence. But the memory was strong and potent, swirling in the back of her mind. She’d been jerked back to reality and suddenly knew she couldn’t stay with Duran longer. She’d head back further away within a few days she calculated, and thought of how to tell Duran she was leaving. She’d been silly and gotten carried away. She was nothing more than a girl who had no idea what game she was playing at, Raven reminded herself. Too many romance novels in that library, that was all.

Shaking her head, she continued to the stables.