Mistress of Souls (Prophecy of the Sisters) by Michelle Zink

Author:Michelle Zink
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2012-06-19T00:00:00+00:00

She was drying her hair the next day after a bath when the sound of pounding made its way to her from the ground floor. She stopped moving, wondering if she’d imagined it. But no, there it was again: someone knocking on the door.

Still clutching the towel, she made her way out of the Dark Room. It was her chamber now. It had been many weeks since she had used her own room for anything. She continued down the stairs, the knocking growing louder and more insistent. By the time she reached the foyer, she was flustered and angry. She threw open the door.

“All right, all right! I’m com—” Shock and dismay cut off her words when she saw who was standing on the threshold. “James! Whatever are you doing here?”

He looked taken aback by her tone. “I’m sorry. I should not have come without an appointment.”

His eyes took in her attire, his cheeks flushing slightly, and she realized that she was still in a nightdress, though it was nearly two in the afternoon. It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain a foothold on the rituals and customs of the physical world. Her life at Birchwood had a schedule all its own.

“I’ll come another time. When we have made an arrangement for a call.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to consider them.

He looked back at her.

“I could make us tea, if you would just give me a moment to change…?”

“Are you certain it isn’t an inconvenience?”

She smiled. “I would be grateful for the company, if the truth is told.”

His nod was slow. “All right, then. If you’re certain.”

She opened the door wider and he stepped into the foyer, looking around as if he’d never been there before. She led him down the hall and settled him in the library before making her way to the kitchen to put the water on to boil. Then she hurried upstairs to change.

She was embarrassed to realize how rarely she actually dressed. She had once paid close attention to her outward appearance, spending freely on the latest gowns from abroad and taking special care of her long, thick hair.

But since Virginia’s departure, she had grown accustomed to being alone in the house. There was little point in dressing for each day. Most of the time, she simply rose, bathed, and put on a fresh nightdress. Her time was spent in the Dark Room anyway, interrupted only by brief journeys to the kitchen when absolutely necessary.

Now she entered her chamber for the first time in weeks. She threw open the door to the wardrobe and stared at the gowns hanging there. There were greens, blues, pinks, and there, peeking out from behind her mourning gown, a flash of scarlet. She pushed the others aside and fingered the red silk, remembering the fuss it had caused with Lia, her shock when she had seen the brightly colored gown.

“But…you don’t mean to wear it to Wycliffe?” she’d said, her eyes wide.

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