The Crickhowell School for the Muses by Waxman Rachel

Author:Waxman, Rachel [Waxman, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: kidnapping, rural village, muse, fantasy, young adult fiction, music, singing
Published: 2013-12-02T06:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

She saw the glow of the window first: one room alight on the bottom floor. Then a bang—the front door shutting—punched the air. Someone with a yellow lantern stepped out onto the lawn, the light bobbing as the figure glided toward Awen and Francis. The horse walked them the remainder of the way.

Francis sighed loudly. “We’re here. It looks as if they’ve been expecting you.”

“Who is there?” Awen recognized Miss Nina’s call.

“My name is Francis,” he replied, now just feet from Miss Nina. “I found one of your girls along the way, in the woods. I was returning from some business I had in another town, and I thought I’d bring her back to you. Apparently she had walked all the way from Beaufort, clear on the other side of the forest.”

“A girl in the woods? Who is it?”

The horse stopped next to Miss Nina, and she lifted her lantern to see.

“Ah, Awen…You’ve returned. Come down from there now.” She reached toward Awen, grabbing at her arm.

“I’ve got her.” Francis urged the horse forward a step, thus pulling Awen out of Miss Nina’s grasp. He dismounted swiftly, landing like a cat on the ground, then helped Awen slide off the horse.

Miss Nina stared silently at the pair for a moment, her lips pulled to one side in disapproval. “Hmm,” she began. “Beaufort, you said?”

Francis nodded.

“Then my suspicions have been confirmed. Where are the other girls? I presume Carmella and Genevieve were taken as well.”

“Taken? Was she stolen a second time?” There was an edge to Francis’s tone, and Awen noticed a sour expression on Miss Nina’s face at his words. “There were others, too? Well, I didn’t see them anywhere. Perhaps they’re still at Beaufort with whoever this woman is that you mention. Excuse my asking, Miss, but what exactly is going on here?”

“Ahh, nothing that concerns you, my dear boy.” She reached out to pat his shoulder.

Francis evaded her by raising his arm, pretending to wipe his forehead.

She ignored the offense. “Thank you for returning the girl. I mean that sincerely. However, I do not advise you to get caught up in this situation any more than you might have already.”

Francis opened his mouth to speak.

“I am sure,” she cut in, “that you have a great many business obligations to attend to.” She waved her right hand. “Away you go.”

Francis again opened his mouth—but closed it without speaking, an exasperated expression on his face. He turned toward Awen and nodded once. Then he mounted the horse with one swift, acrobatic leap, and rode away.

* * *

Awen entered the castle behind Miss Nina. She thought back to her arrival on that very first night, now some months ago. But this time, Miss Nina did not drag her in; Awen followed on her own accord. She knew she could turn at any moment and run…but, somehow, everything was different now.

She did not need to.

Awen glanced up at the chandelier hanging in the entrance hall. She thought it looked smaller. It shone

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