Chapter 10
Avren watched his beautiful niece from his vantage point of the sixth floor window. Once again she was dressed in a man's clothes but instead of heading out to the forest she was sparing with her arms master. All the servants obeyed her word as law and if he ordered rushes laid they asked her for confirmation, which she didn't give. When he ordered a roasted pig for supper she had vetoed the plan saying the meals for the day were already planned. Every change he ordered she refused.
It wasn't her rebellion that bothered him. It wasn't her mode of dress. He knew many female fighters in the war and respected them, however all of them had been warriors born. Sherri was a lady born and bred with blood as blue as the Queen's in her veins, she should have learned to wield a needle, not a sword. She should ride gentle palfreys, not wild stallions. She shouldn't have had to give up everything her blood entitled her to just because none of her uncles were there to see that she could.
Avren remembered the tiny little girl dressed in a pink dress and mounds of lace and ruffles who had hugged him tightly and said she would love him forever. While he had been off protecting what he cherished most in the world, he had lost it.
Not for the first time he wished he had remained here.
Sherri scored a hit on the weapons master's side. She was good. It was obvious she practiced everyday, rain, snow, sun, or whatever else the weather threw at them.
Avren remembered the night he had found Amelie with the knife in her chest. That night he had sworn to protect Sherri, he had failed. She had lost her heart to a fickle Herald, she was forced to learn the blade simply because there was no one here to protect her, she had learned estate management because he had not stayed and seen to it her life was filled with ease.
Sherri unbuckled her padded leather armour and shook her hair loose from the confining braid. There was a sorrow in her eyes as she left the beaten dirt of the practice grounds. A sorrow a young girl should never have.
Avren smashed his hand against the frame of the window. He knew she was beyond his protection now but he was damned if he was going to leave her like this.
~*~
Sherri stared at her uncle in disbelief. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. "You want me to marry?"
Avren's eyebrows lowered at her tone of disgust. Any young woman should be glad of the match he proposed. He served with Lord Theiran in the war, he was a good man, and handsome enough to please Sherri. He was only ten years older than her. He had been taught estate management so she would no longer have to concern herself with how many lambs were born. "It is about time."
"No." Sherri said simply. "I am well past the age to make my own decisions and I choose not to marry." The idea of having to touch a stranger, and one who had lived through the war no less, made her quake inside.
Avren reached out to tough her hand, hoping gentle persuasion would change her mind. As soon as their skin touched Sherri saw her intended in his thoughts. Covered in blood and fighting like a man possessed. The image made her sick.
"Let me go!" She screamed as she tried to pull her hand free. The images threatened to overwhelm her.
Avren gripped her hand tighter, confused her strange reaction. Had someone beat her? He had seen women who had been struck by their loved ones and they reacted in a similar fashion when grabbed. His heart grew cold. He would find this bastard and make certain he paid. For now, the sooner she was wed to Theiran the better. Theiran would be able to protect her from the bastard, and would always treat her as a delicate flower.
The images of herself being beaten pounded at her mind and fear surged through her. She had to get free! She could feel the blows hitting her sides.
Avren scooped Sherri up, ignoring her struggles to be free. He was certain that whoever had caused such fear in her had to be somewhere in the keep and he was damned if they would get another chance to hurt her.
Instead of carrying her up the stairs to her room he decided to hide her in the old Family wing. It was deserted and no one would search for her here, especially with the rumour of a ghost.
All but one of these rooms were empty of even furniture so he kicked the door to his sister's room open. "Stay here, I will find him."
Sherri cowered on the floor. The images his mind had created etched eternally into hers. The miasma of depression that filled the room swamped her as soon as they entered.
By the time she managed to recover enough to realise what had happened and where she was the door was closed and locked. Sherri's heart started to pound in true fear. The depression of the room and the subdued scratching of a pen on paper filed the air. She didn't need to look at the desk to know her mother was sitting there again. A sweet coppery tang tainted the air, the smell of blood. The temperature was near freezing. She felt the familiar pull of a spirit taking her energy.
"Oh gods." Panic filled Sherri. She launched her self at the door, pounding and whimpering to be released. The scratching of the pen grew louder and images assaulted her mind. A tiny baby in a bassinet by a dead fire. Many pieces of paper filled with inadequate words. The glint of moonlight on the sharp blade. The dark liquid pooling on her hand. Sharp pains assault her chest. Sherri could no longer discern which thought's belonged to her mother and which were her own. Sherri sobbed brokenly as she clawed fruitlessly at the door. Her fingernails snapped and then her fingers bled but she still tried desperately to claw her way free.
Finally, her energy spent she collapsed on the cold stone.
~ * ~
Avren stared down at the broken woman who was his niece. Her fingers had been bandaged and her bloodied dress replaced with a lawn nightgown but she still did not respond to anyone. Her skin was pale and her eyes vacant. Dark shadows under her eyes. Bruises on her arms and more hidden by her clothing were unexplainable.
What had he done?
Sherri's old nurse knelt next to her talking softly.
"Is she coming around?" Avren asked quietly.
"No, she still hasn't responded." The housekeeper answered just as quietly.
"What can we do?" Avren asked helplessly.
"Let her rest, maybe she will come back to herself." The housekeeper tucked the warm, homey quilts around the still body.
Except for the quilts rising and falling in regular, shallow breaths she looked dead.
"It was only a candlemark." Avren said desperately.
"Our poor little lady. She has always hated that room. She used to say she could see her mother writing at the desk. I used to think she truly did. Strange things happen in that room. When she stopped talking about it I thought she had outgrown it."
"I could just be a child's imagination. He must have gotten in some how and did that to her."
"Who did?"
"Whoever has been hurting her."
The housekeeper looked up at him with obvious confusion. "No one has been hurting her."
"When I grabbed her arm she went hysterical. She acted like she expected me to hurt her."
"Our little lady has always hated being touched. No one has ever hurt her. We would never let anyone hurt her." Nurse assured him.
"Why would she hate being touched?" Avren asked.
"We don't know. She just always has. It happened gradually. First she stopped giving her hugs to everyone, and then she started spending more time in the forest, away from everyone. Perhaps we should just let her sleep for a few candlemarks, my lord."
Avren nodded. "You may go."
When he was alone with his niece he pulled a chair next to her bed. The last time he had sat here she was three and he was twenty. She had a bad fever and was tossing and turning with sweat beading on her brow. He had watched over her until her fever broke. When her eyes had opened she had smiled sweetly up at him and asked if he was guarding against the monsters.
He felt like he was doing it again, sitting by her bed, on guard for monsters. He just didn't know if the monster was himself or someone else.