Chapter 9

9

Lustina

Having fetched the pail of water, as the bishop had requested, Lustina and Drystan returned to the estate, where the young Baron stood beside a beast of a man. Tothyll, she assumed. The coiled whip that hung from his waist sent a chill down her spine, and when Drystan set down the bucket of water to meet them, her stomach sank.

“Wait!” she called after them.

The young baron twisted around, his eyes burning with a curious anger.

“He didn’t crush the heirloom. It was young Lord Van Croix. I saw it.”

“Lustina, please. Return to the bishop,” Drystan urged.

“No. This is not right. You should not be punished for this!” She pointed to the young lord. “You are the one who broke it! You are the one who should suffer the lashings!”

“I’d be careful, if I were you, girl,” the baron’s voice held an ominous warning.

“No! I’ll not stand idly by! You are to blame.”

“What is going on out here?”

At the sound of Bishop Venable’s voice, a thrum of nervous tension spiraled through Lustina, which she swallowed back, clearing her throat. “Your Excellency, I watched the baron destroy an heirloom. He did so with intention!”

Bishop Venable’s brows lowered to a mantle of pure irritation. “It is not your place to make such accusations, girl. Now, grab the water and follow me.”

“But I beg Your Excellency to intervene! Drystan did not carry out the insolent act for which he stands to be punished. He’s kind and does not deserve this!”

The bishop’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what would you know of the boy’s kindness? Let it be known that I held a certain unease, allowing you to go into the woods with that boy. To lure him like Lilith.”

Slapped by insult and confusion, Lustina frowned. “I did nothing more than what you asked of me.”

“Do you honestly think I believe your lying tongue, girl? Do you think I believe your claims about the young baron?”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“You would not know truth if it spilled from the sky like rain. Come. We shall deal with your punishment later.”

* * *

Lustina wrung the skirt of her dress as she waited by the carriage for Bishop Venable, who stood just a short distance away, speaking with the baron’s father, Lord Praecepsia. The glares he’d sent her way since the incident earlier told her punishment was forthcoming. If there was one thing Bishop Venable despised most, it was embarrassment, and she had surely embarrassed him with her insolence. Her mind ran through all the many punishments she’d already suffered at his hands for lesser infractions, and she hoped that whatever he had in mind would be swiftly carried out.

Movement at the corner of her eye diverted her attention to where the young baron stood leaning against the other side of the carriage, arms crossed, watching her. His icy blue eyes left her skin feeling cold and exposed, all of a sudden, while they raked over her with contempt.

“How perfectly you await your master,” he taunted.

“I have no interest in engaging with you, My Lord.”

“Nor I with you. I simply find the observation amusing.”

Attention turned away from him, she inwardly groaned. “Perhaps you can seek out other diversions that are much more entertaining.”

“I am afraid they’d pale in comparison.”

A very quick glance over her shoulder showed he hadn’t diverted his attention, at all. “Must you always stare that way?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“If I may speak candidly, you frustrate me.”

The corner of his lips twitched as if he would smile. “Ah, well, I suspected nothing less.”

“The purpose of your visit before I leave is to further torment me with your taunting?”

“Yes.”

“Forgive my saying so, but you are …” Lustina bit her tongue--nearly off, with her insistence on not speaking what was truly on her mind. Horrible. Detestable. Rude.

“What?”

“I choose to hold my tongue.”

“By all means, cut it loose with your words. Here, allow me to help. You are despicable. Atrocious. Reprehensible. Utter evil in the flesh. Am I close?”

Frighteningly so. In fact, Lustina may have been inclined to add those descriptions, as well.

“I suspect, living in a monastery, you have learned a great many things. But I can tell you with certainty that not everything is as it seems.”

“Are you saying I dreamed what happened in the woods?”

He nodded toward something, and she followed the path of his gaze toward an impressive oak tree off in the distance. “What do you see there?”

“The tree?”

“What about it? Describe it as you see it.”

Although she was hesitant to humor him, her curiosity beckoned her to play along. “Majestic. Beautiful. Sturdy.”

“It is, isn’t it? One might say it is the perfect specimen of a tree. Would you agree?”

“Yes. It’s quite perfect. What is your point?”

“My point is that beneath the earth lies the roots, dirt and worms, where everything decays in order to feed the beauty you find so perfect. In order for something to live, something must rot.”

She considered that for a moment, her attention flitting between him and the tree. “Am I to assume you are the rot and Drystan is the tree? Seems the other way around, from where I am standing.”

“I am not asking you to assume anything. Only to consider a deeper understanding of the unseen. As I said, things are not always as they seem.” He pushed off from the carriage and strode up to her. “Good day, Lustina,” he said on passing.

* * *

The ride back to the monastery seemed far shorter than when they’d left earlier that morning. Bishop Venable didn’t say so much as a word the entire ride, even the few times she’d tried to engage him in conversation. Every inquiry was met with a stern expression and unyielding silence, and she feared she had gone too far that time.

When the carriage finally breached the stone walls of the monastery, Lustina’s stomach lurched. She followed Bishop Venable out of the carriage and into the infirmary building. Down the stone stairwell, he led the way with a single torch he’d grabbed from a bracket on the wall, and when they finally reached the bottommost level, the stirring in her stomach had bubbled into a cauldron of pure dread.

“Your Excellency, I meant no disrespect earlier.”

Not bothering to acknowledge her, he came to a stop before a room that had been used a number of times as a holding morgue for the dying. She’d once had to accompany one of the infirmary nuns who’d wheeled a body down the stairwell, a smooth brick slope with no actual stairs on the opposite side of the building. The unsettling experience had stuck with her ever since.

Bishop Venable opened the door to the cell inside, revealing nothing more than a cold and empty room. “You will sleep here tonight.”

Terror twisted in her gut. “What?”

“Perhaps this will teach you not to question me again.”

“Your Excellency, please. I will not do it again. You have my word. Please do not make me sleep down here in the dark alone.”

“In with you. Now.”

“Please. I’m begging Your Excellency!”

“In the room! Now!”

One hard shove from behind sent her flying into the room, and she fell to the stone floor, scraping her knees across its hard and gravely surface. She quickly pushed to her feet, but before she could reach the door, it slammed shut, closing her inside the small, pitch-black space.

In a panic, she slammed her palm against the cold surface and screamed. “Please! Let me out of here! Please!”

Only the sound of the lock clicking into place answered her cries.

“Please! Your Excellency! I cannot be left alone in the dark! Please!”

The sound of retreating footsteps skated down her spine, and Lustina spun around in the blackness, unable to see anything beyond her own nose. Her heart pounded against her chest, and she closed her eyes to the visions crawling into her imagination. Ones of evil creatures that clawed at her mind.

“Mama,” she whimpered, sliding against the door. “Please.”

Bad and awful things happened in the dark. She squeezed her eyes shut, banishing the visions from her head.

I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid.

In the quiet that followed, she thought of Drystan. The poor boy who’d suffered the lashes. Surely, his wounds were worse than this. Surely, he suffered far more than she did. Lustina opened her eyes to the darkness, which was no different than when they were still closed. There, in the room, she saw Drystan clinging to a post, with the whip cracking against his pale, white flesh.

“If there is a God,” she whispered in the darkness, “show mercy on him.” The concern for the boy distracted her from the fears still scratching for her attention.

Hours must have passed, her skin chilled with the cold, and when the door finally opened, Lustina could hardly see past the blinding light.

She stood to find Bishop Venable staring in on her.

“Have you learned anything from this, girl?”

“Yes, Your Excellency” she said, tipping her chin up. “I learned that I no longer fear the dark.”

His jaw shifted, eyes burning with what she surmised as disappointment. “You have an evil inside of you. Just like your mother. And mark my words, I will exorcise it from you, or you will meet the same fate.”

Ignoring his threat, she angled her chin higher. “I shall expect to remain here at the monastery the next time you journey to Lord Praecepsia’s.”

“You expect wrong. Although I’d be inclined to have you suffer equal punishment by Tothyll, as Drystan did, it seems Lady Praecepsia was comforted by your presence. She has requested that you accompany me again. Weekly. I expect, the next time, you to be on your best behavior, lest your punishments become increasingly worse.”

Lady Praecepsia had requested her? Had she made any sort of impression on the woman to earn such an honor? Casting her gaze from his, she lowered her head. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Tell me, child. Do you remember the smell of burning flesh?” The air of amusement in his voice grated on her, and she was grateful that she didn’t happen to be staring back at him in that moment.

“Every day,” she gritted, her mouth tingling with the bitter, copper flavor of blood she drew from biting her own tongue.

“Good. I would hate for you to forget.”