Chapter Three

Thornwing Manor

"Lady you bereft me of all words,

Only my blood speaks to you in my veins

And there is such confusion in my powers."- William Shakespeare

One hundred quid each, I thought. Though they weren't really ours, I considered, looking up at the tall, dark silhouette of the aunt, pointing over towards the garments she thought were most suitable for us. Both me and Breenanow hadour arms filled with articles of clothing and accessories, but my attention had trailed off hastily: the shop in which we stood was remarkable enough to draw my notice like a magnet.

It was a deep shop, like a cave, so deep that the light from the display window didn't go as far as the opposite wall. The only lights were hidden among falls of materials, so that they were shadowed, giving the shop an air of Ali Baba's cavern. Antique silver jewellery adorned with polished jet stones, sapphires and rubies glittered from folds of deep black velvet, splendid cloaks of satin shimmered, water-fine silks gleamed, from everywhere the gloss of something rich and beautiful could be seen. And the colours were even better: black, deep purple, garnet-red, sapphire-blue, silver, satiny emerald…

I looked around, and caught Breena's eyes, which gleamed with the reflections of so much beauty. She smiled at me, gestured around her, and whispered:

'Beautiful, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' I agreed, and resumed looking around.

The shop was absolutely deserted, except form a woman sitting behind the polished wooden counter. She had her long, tarnished hair over one shoulder, stroking them slowly, and her eyes were so deep, filled with such sadness it made you want to weep. I wondered what had happened to her, who had she lost, to look so abysmally woeful, but my attention was snapped back to the reality of the gloomy shopping when the aunt Aurora stuffed a large silvered-paper bag on top of the pile I was holding, and ordered in a tone even the Emperor Napoleon himself wouldn't have been able to conjure up:

'Noses to the counter.'

If the situation had not been that serious, I think I would have collapsed with laughter.

The cashier looked up from her faded hair, and looked at us so unhappily I felt sorry for her. She heaved a deep sigh, and slowly took the items from us, one by one, typing in numbers as she went, and folding them carefully into large paper bags. She had nearly finished them all (it had taken her a little under fifteen minutes) when two tears burst from her eyes and slowly rolled down her sunken cheeks and over her white blouse, glittering as they fell.

'It will make one hundred and twenty pounds,' she said, and her voice was wobbling with tears.

'Produce your money,' ordered Aunt Aurora, with a majestic sweep of her hand, which was gloved in a white silken glove.

It was so bizarre I felt as if my mouth would never close again: this poor woman, looking as if she'd just buried her entire family, on one side, and on the other the imperious aunt acting as if she was leading a troop of soldiers. Next to me, Breena looked just as flabbergasted.

We went out of the shop, leaving behind us a cashier broken down with sorrow, and went back into the sleek black car. In fifteen minutes, we were back at Edgerise Hall, and Annika was opening the door for us.

'You are wanted for your music lessons in fifteen minutes. Go and change yourselves. Do not make me wait. Annika—' the aunt spoke imperiously, but the "Annika…" was pronounced in a dramatically weary way, and was accompanied by a desperate sweep of the bonny white hand.

The Aunt glided away, as Annika started advancing towards the stairs, and Breena made to follow, but I had had enough of this woman. Imperiously, I snapped:

'Annika: pick these bags up and bring them to our chamber. You may precede us.'

She turned around, and looked at me, first with an immense surprise, then furiously. Slowly, she came back to take all our bags from us, and started ascending the stairs, me and Breena following.

When we were inside the bedroom, she dumped all the packs on Breena's bed, and turned around, but before she had time to achieve a dignified departure, I said, as coldly and grandly as I could:

'You may withdraw.'

Without even looking at me, she went out, and slammed the door behind her.

'Good riddance,' I declared, loudly enough for her to here me through the wooden panel.

Breena had gone scarlet in the face, her slight fingers pressed to her rosy lips, shaking with laughter.

'Oh, Ruby! You were brilliant!'

I grinned at her.

'Well, we'd better get changed.'

I put a hand on my waist, stretched the other one out in front of me, and said, in the aunt's languishing tones:

'Breena, you may dress me.'

'We'd start with the drawers—'

'—shift—'

'—camisole—'

'—chemise—'

'—stockings—'

'—petticoats…'

We rolled about laughing, and finally, Breena got a grip.

'I don't even know what she's bought. I hope it won't be that bad.'

'I don't think it's going to be,' I said bracingly, 'after all, the shop was wicked.'

'Wasn't it?' said Breena enthusiastically.

We went over the immense pile of things, and started pulling out articles. And then I discovered that as much as she was a posh snob, the aunt Aurora had a superb taste in dressing matters.

Me and Breena, divided the stuff, and we turned our backs to each other to get changed. I didn't like to get undress in front of anyone, even Breena, and she had always respected my intimacy. Then we changed into the new clothes.

I put on a long, wide gypsy skirt, which looked something like satin, and was black, with two long ribbons dangling at one hip. The top was also black, and rather simple, with long sleeves and a polo-neck. It was also tight, and I decided there and then that I would give it over to Breena, as she was the one to possess the suitable…things required to wear tight tops. I pulled on a pair of thick black thigh-high stockings, high-heeled, ankle-high leather boots, and turned.

Breena turned at the same moment, and I couldn't help being stricken by her beauty. She had undone the horrid plait, and her long, blue-black silken hair hung down her back like a veil of midnight silk. She had dressed with a long black skirt similar to mine, but her top was pale blue, with long loose sleeves, a V-neck, and ribbons of sapphire velvet at the neck and sleeves.

'How do you like it?' she asked, whirling around so that her skirt flew around her legs, revealing her beautiful, glossy boots and stockinged legs.

'You look—'

I gestured vaguely, unable as usual to express my feelings.

'Beautiful.'

'And so do you!' she said cheerfully.

She came over to me, as I feared she would.

'Look at yourself. You should never ever wear jeans—skirts suit you so well. And look at that gorgeous top!'

'You can have it,' I said hastily, 'I don't like it. It's too tight.'

Breena snorted dismissively.

'Oh yes, obviously…'

She seized my arm:

'Nothing will ever be able to be too tight on you, Ruby—not in a lifetime! You are skinny!'

'I am not! Look, it—it moulds my—you know…my…thingies.'

Breena laughed.

'You don't have any "thingies".'

'That's because you can't see them!' I exclaimed, my cheeks feeling like flames.

Breena laughed again.

'Our conversation is exceedingly indecent, my dear,' she said, in an aunt-Aurora-ly way.

I grinned reluctantly, and she went on: 'We'd better go down. No, wait. Your hair.'

Breena steered over to me, but I stepped back.

'It's alright,' I said quickly.

I undid my bun, hand-combed my ragged strands, and starting building the horrible thing again, but Breena stopped me. Taking a hairbrush from her bedside table, she turned me away from her, and started combing my hair. I yelled with every knot, but I had very few of them. My hair, to my own amazement, was incredibly silky.

Breena worked patiently for a moment, and then finally let go of me.

'Here you go,' she said, satisfaction palpable in her voice.

'Let's go!' I hastily exclaimed, running from the room before she had time to find something to embellish on me.

We went downstairs, where Annika, coldly furious, led us to a large double door, leaving us there. We went in, and found ourselves in a superb room: large, with dark red and cream walls, an ivory-carpet, scarlet velvet curtains and armchairs. In the middle of the room, the light from the window falling right over it, stood a dark, beautiful piano, in front of which sat a stool covered with a red velvet cushion, and with sheets of partition on the lid. Aunt Aurora, clad in trailing black, sat on a long couch scattered with cushions, one arm hanging from the couch, the other arm thrown over her forehead.

'Ah, my daughters…' she said tragically.

What the hell happened to her, I thought, my daughters, I ask you!

'Do come and sit. Breena, you are ravishingly beautiful…'

Breena looked as if she had just seen a blood-covered bear curtsey gallantly at her.

'Um…I do thank you, Aunt,' she said, politely.

I went and quietly sat at the aunt's elbow, on a small sit beside her grand couch, as Breena perched herself over a high-backed wooden chair facing both me and the aunt.

Aunt Aurora straightened, clutching her heart with both hands and sighing deeply.

'Very well. Does any of you two sing?'

'Breena does,' I said, before she had time to answer, 'she sings very well. Excellent voice, very sweet and pure' I added for good measure, as Breena narrowed her glittering twilight eyes at me.

'This is very flattering indeed,' said the Aunt, smiling at Breena.

It was the first smile I we had seen on her face since the first time we saw her. It looked very bizarre, as if out of place: the corners of her pale lips rising, as if reluctantly, and the dark eyes slightly narrowing. The smile was both warm and cold—it was difficult to describe.

'Do sing me a song,' demanded the Aunt.

Breena glared at me, then rose from her chair, and sang: it was a rather short ballad, about autumn and the fading of life. It was very beautiful, and her voice, as I had said, was extremely pure, filled with the melancholy the text required.

When she finished, Aunt Aurora wiped a nonexistent tear from her black eyes.

'That was beautiful…' she sighed.

'Ruby has as much talent as I,' said Breena, sweetly, 'she plays piano extremely well.'

I nearly choked over my own tongue—what the hell was she on about? I had only played piano two or three times in front of her, but how could she know I was good at it? And anyway, I wasn't.

'Which reminds me,' said the Aunt, suddenly much less languishing and emotional, 'I would like to have more information about this young friend of yours.'

'Well: her name is Ruby. She is sixteen years old like me. She—'

'Not so fast,' Aunt Aurora cut her through, 'Ruby what?'

'Ruby Ash,' I said, reluctantly. I absolutely hated my name. Ruby Ash, what where my parents' thinking when they called me that?

'Ruby Ash de what?' asked the Aunt.

'Pardon?' said Breena, not understanding.

'Ruby Ash de Casteel,' I said, giving the first name that came to my mind.

'Where is your family coming from?'

'My father comes from a long line of de Casteels, which started with one of his great great great great great great great-grandfather, Edmond Decasteel, who rid the country of Edward Dragonbane, and thus won the honorific title of Duke Edmond de Casteel.'

Breena looked as if she might have either fainted or collapsed with laughter. The aunt, however, looked extremely satisfied.

'It is my great pleasure to meet you, Ruby. What about your mother?'

'Oh, she is a descendant of Cassandra de Clare. The famous countess who was so beautiful she even seduced the king. She became very rich, of course, but drowned one day when someone pushed her in Ice's Finger, an extremely cold lake she had had built especially to drown all the persons she didn't like.'

'What a remarkable woman,' sighed the aunt, and Breena nearly toppled over.

I bent my head in acknowledgement of the compliment, and thought that I was definitely starting to amuse myself. And then, Aunt Aurora declared:

'I would deeply enjoy hearing you play the piano, Ruby.'

I glared at Breena just as she had glared at me a few moments before, and said:

'My dear Aunt; I am awfully sorry to announced that my fingers are most indisposed to play. They are, unfortunately, the ones to decide whether I am tin a musical mood of not.'

The aunt nodded sorrowfully.

'I understand, my dear, I understand,' she said, patting the capricious fingers.

Breena shook her head.

So this first lesson went on, in a very non-musical way, and we discovered that Aunt Aurora had two sides: the languishing, mildly agreeable one, and the cold, hard one. During this first lesson, we were lucky to face the languishing, agreeable one.

The time went by rather quickly, and the Aunt finally announced that it was time for our walk:

'Put on something warm, and then go and play, my daughters,' she said, throwing herself dramatically back in her cushions.

We went out.

'Do you think she bought some coats or something?' I asked.

'How should I know, my dear Ruby de Casteel.'

Breena gave an unbelieving chuckle.

'Really, it was cool, Ruby. Really cool.'

'Thanks,' I said, smiling.

We arrived back at our room, and started rummaging through the bags, until I found what I was looking for. More or less, at least.

It was a cloak, so long it probably would trail on the floor behind me, and made of black velvet doubled with black satin, with a deep hood trimmed with black lace, and even more black lace at the bottom, bordering the hem.

'Wow,' I said, 'wow, wow, wow!'

Breena turned around, and when she saw the cloak, she grabbed it from me.

'Wow,' she said too.

'You've probably got one, too,' I said, grabbing the cloak back from her.

She rummaged through the remaining bags, and finally took out a similar cloak, different only in the colour, which instead of black, was dark blue, nearly black.

She put it on, and I helped her with the long laces that tied it around the neck. She helped me with mine, and then we both put on silken gloves we'd found in one of the bags; and went downstairs.

Annika, once again, was there, and she preceded us right to the door, which she opened, then shut behind us.

Again, the slash of exhilarating briny air crashed over me, and I staggered a little bit, feeling slightly drunk. Breena, beside me, took in a long, deep breath, and then descended the stairs. I hastily followed, and in silence, we walked up to the ornate gate, which we passed, and then stopped.

'So,' said Breena, pulling a strand of black hair away from her face, where the wind kept tossing it, 'where shall we go?'

'Thornwing Manor,' I said, without the slightest hesitation.

'Thornwing Manor? We don't even know where it is,' said Breena, raising her fine black eyebrows.

'We know it's beside Edgerise. We'll just have to explore!'

I stepped away from Breena, and balanced myself on the tip of my foot, stretching out my arms and twirling around in the wind, which slashed my cloak and skirt back:

'We are free, Bree! Think about it: finally free! And look at what we have the luck to explore! All this, just for ourselves!'

I danced around, and Breena joined in:

'You are right!' she exclaimed, grabbing both my hands and raising them, 'we are like the wind: able to go wherever we want, free and wild!'

'Exactly!'

She let go of one of my hands, and, still linked together by one hand, we tore into a run towards where Thornwing Manor should be. We were running against the wind's current, and our cloaks streamed behind us, our skirts plastered against our thighs, revealing our black stocking-ed legs and leather boots. Breena's cheeks were slashed scarlet, her braid flying behind her head, and my own bun had come undone, so that I was running with strands all over my face: short ones on my forehead and in my eyes, long one around my neck and across my cheeks and mouth.

I had never felt so good before. I had just lost my mother, my only remaining relative, and I wanted to laugh and laugh till I couldn't breathe anymore of the briny air which made me feel so drunk and elated.

Finally, me and Breena stopped running, exhausted and totally out of breath. We had long passed by the long, twisted iron gate which seemed to circle the Aunt's fortress, and we were know running along a field of grass bordered by a towering forest. The grass reached up nearly as high as our knees, slowing us down, and the wind made it rippled like a glossy emerald sea. The trees' leafs were all green, and when the gusts of wind precipitated the sky-high canopy, the pale, tender jade underneath the leafs was revealed, like a lady who's white petticoats would have been revealed under the sombre gown.

Ahead of us, the forest still ran, but we could already catch the glimpse of a dark, rising mass, and I said:

'Behold! Bree, Thornwing Manor!'

Breena grunted: she had thrown herself on the ground, exhausted by our wild run, with her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks still silky scarlet, her braid dishevelled, and her eyes glittering brighter than I had ever seen them glitter before.

'Ah, Ruby…' she sighed, 'this was wonderful…'

I grabbed at her hand, and heaved her back on her feet. She swayed a little, leaned on me, and sighed again, as I urged:

'C'mon! Let's go! I can't wait to see it!'

We started walking, me more quickly than Breena, whom I positively dragged behind me, even though a stitch in my chest hurt me abominably, and I could barely catch my breath.

'Perhaps we'll find ghosts…who knows: you who is so romantic—'

'I'm not romantic—' protested Breena.

'Yeah, and I am Joan of Ark's reincarnation,' I said dismissively, 'Just picture it, Bree!'

I let go of her hand, and started whirling around, declaiming:

'A young prince, of such ravishing beauty his face even lit the darkest night, prisoner in the highest tower of a merciless fortress, where he withers in sorrow and despair, and dies! And his ghost, clad in white, with the tarnished gleam of his golden hair faded to silver, weeping as he haunts his own grave, this tremendous manor in which he was buried alive. And then, herself drowning in her own sorrow, a young, living human girl discovers him, and the heart-breaking friendship that follows quickly turns to a passionate love, and, without thinking, she one day kisses him—'

We had started walking again, and Breena had been listening with serious concentration, but there, she cut me through:

'No, Ruby: you need to understand this,' she said gravely 'it can't be a romantic story is she is the one to kiss him. No: it should be like this: and one day, unable to stop himself, for he loved her to much to consider his actions, he kissed her. He must be the one to kiss her.'

'Yuk,' I said, 'do you picture being kissed by a ghost? Yuk and double yuk.'

'Well, cold lips and a feeling of breeze…' said Breena, dreamily, 'I wish I could be kissed by a ghost some day. Or a prince…can you imagine…'

'Well, one thing's certain,' I said solemnly, 'the prince who will kiss me will soon become a ghost.'

'Don't say that!' exclaimed Breena, even though she smiled at me, 'you'll see, one day…'

'I'd kill myself rather than have anyone kiss me. And anyway,' I added arrogantly, 'nobody would want to kiss me.'

'Want to bet? Ten quid if someone tries to kiss you before the end of the year.'

'The month,' I bargained.

'The month, right,' she said, shrewdly.

'And you don't stick your nose into it, right?'

'Right.'

'Ok, then.'

We clapped hands and started walking again.

'Do you think we'll find ghosts?' Breena asked before long.

'I hope so. But if he tries to kiss you, don't worry, I'll help you to re-kill him.'

'If a ghost ever wants to kiss me, Ruby Ash de Casteel,' said Breena severely, 'you'd better not intervene. Or else you might regret it bitterly. If you have the time to.'

'As long as you promise to put red roses on my grave…'

She laughed, but then we stopped talking. The tall construction, which had been looming higher and bigger as we approached, was now rising in front of us, and it was so beautiful that we stood for several minutes just gaping at it: it wasn't the usual kind of castle you found in the country, like Aunt Aurora's manor, but a superb thing in which the Beast could have easily lived.

Towers upon towers it rose, each tower higher than the first one, and spiked with a high pointed roof of dark blue tiles. It was built of dark, polished silver-grey stones, and adorned with such an amount of carvings that it looked like a drawing more than a real construction: gargoyles, ugly and so realistic it was frightening, dragons coiling around towers, carved roses and leafs, arabesques, and all kind of creatures and monsters you could possibly imagine. Tomb-shaped, diamond-panelled windows caught the metallic sky's silver reflections, piercing holes of light through the beautiful carved façades. Separating us from the castle's tall, scary door, was a large courtyard, with smooth grey flagstones, and a tall fountain in the middle: a large round basin, from which rose three goblins, naked, as it seemed, but for the creeping ivy that covered them, and clutching in their clawed hands birds, from which's beaks rose trickles of crystalline water, with tinkled down. Standing between us and the courtyard was a high iron gate, similar to the Aunt's one, but over which a tall stone arch stood, carved in a monster's open mouth, from which wild roses and ivy dangled.

'Oh my god,' said Breena beside me.

'Yeah,' I said.

I marched to the gate, and gave it a vigorous push. With a creak that sounded like a crone's screeching wail, it opened, and I went through the arch, Breena following me with an awed look on her beautiful face.

We crossed the courtyard, and I couldn't resist take a gulp of the water, which tasted so cold and pure in was astonishing—a little bit like melted snow; then we slowly finished crossing the stoned courtyard. Thirteen steps of stone led the way to the solemn dark wooden door, which was pierced by a small, eye-shaped glass hole, underneath which was an old, ancient-silver dragon head, holding in its mouth a thick, heavy loop.

Without hesitation, yet with my heart beating faster than usual, I climbed the thirteen steps, raising the loop, and let it fall again.

'Ruby!' cried Breena, looking disbelieving.

I smiled at her, and we both waited, eyes wide, for a few seconds. And then the door opened.

A tiny man appeared, holding open the heavy creaking door, and peeping at us from behind it. He was smaller than Breena, nearly not reached the doorknob he was holding from inside, and his hair as well as his abundant beard were snowy white, strangely gleaming in the eerie darkness from the corridor, from which a gust of cold had burst as he'd opened the door. His eyes were small, black and bright, and his voice, when he spoke, was snide and squeaky:

'Yeeeeah?' he asked, in drawling squeaking tones, his sharp black eyes leaping from my face to Breena's.

'We have come to pay ThornWing's master our respects. My name is Ruby Ash de Casteel, and here is my friend, Countess Breena Eglantine.'

'You two Aurora's brats? We didn't expect you so soon,' said the little man, 'the Prince is, I'm afraid, busy for the moment. Come back tonight, there's a masked-ball held here. Bring masks.'

And he shut the door in our faces.

We were left with no option but to go back home. As we slowly walked through the high-grass field beside the forest, I said:

'Do you think your Aunt will let us go?'

'Do you want to go?' asked Breena, who looked thoughtful.

'Of course I do!'

'Then we'd better not tell her. We'll go in the dead of night, and come back before dawn.'

I nearly toppled over. You don't understand: Breena saying something like this is a little bit as if Santa Claus suddenly became a serial killer.

'We don't have masks, though,' I said, to cover my amazement.

'We do. I saw some when I was looking for a coat. Ruby, remember what the small gentleman said: "we didn't expect you so soon". Aunt Aurora obviously knows about Thornwing and its landlord, and intended that we visit him.'

'And did you hear what the dwarf—'

'Ruby!'

'—said? The "Prince". It's so cool. Do you think he is a real prince?'

'Apparently. He's perhaps a foreign aristocrat or something.'

I sighed, and said:

'You know what, Bree?'

'No, I don't, but I'm soon going to.'

'Ah-ha. No, really: I think that I was the luckiest person in the entire world this day when you became my friend; when we still were innocent children, remember? If we hadn't been friends, I would probably be in a dreary orphanage by now.'

'Or a mental home,' said Breena.

I grabbed her plait and jerked it, and we both laughed.

A/N Hey, I decided to split this chapter up, as my writing partner, Twists-of-clarity is good, and wrote so much! So the chapter after this is also from Ruby's POV