Page 8 of The Silent Songbird

Evangeline was even able to eat some of the food, as it seemed Lord Shiveley would continue to ignore her through the entire meal.As she reached for her goblet, her elbow brushed against his arm. She snatched her arm away as if she’d touched a hot ember.

She felt Lord Shiveley’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean toward her. The urge to lean away from him nearly overwhelmed her, but she controlled it. His voice rumbled near her ear, “You are not afraid of me, are you, Evangeline? I do not want a wife who is afraid of me.”

Her spine stiffened and she glanced at him. “Of course I am not afraid of you.”

For several moments he said nothing. Then he leaned even closer, so close she felt his hot breath in her ear, as he growled, “You may not care for me, but you will submit to me.”

Her cheeks burned. She glanced at the king. He was laughing at something someone on the other side of the table had said. Lord Shiveley’s hand pressed against her back. She squirmed, but there was no way to escape the hand without slapping it away or otherwise drawing attention to herself.

Evangeline turned to Lady Pettwood. “Will you walk with me to my room? I am feeling unwell.”

“Yes, of course, my dear. I am very tired myself.”

Evangeline stood, breaking away from Shiveley’s touch. She only had to wait a moment for Lady Pettwood to tell her husband she was leaving, and the two of them took their leave of the king, curtsying and hurrying away.

“Will you be well?” Lady Pettwood seemed genuinely concerned.

“I shall be well in the morning. I only need to go to bed early.”

“It is to be your wedding day.” Lady Pettwood patted Evangeline’s arm. “Do you need me to tell you what to expect? My own daughters are too young yet to need to be told any—”

“No, no, I assure you, I do not need . . . no, though I thank you, Lady Pettwood.”

They arrived at Evangeline’s door first, but then she had to show Lady Pettwood to her room, as she had lost her way in the corridors of the large building.

When Evangeline arrived back at her room, she closed her door behind her and locked it.

Her heart raced as she ran to the trunk where she had stowed her bag. She drew it out and quickly folded her undergowns and stuffed them into the cloth bag. The servants’ clothing she had taken only left enough room for two of her oldest and least fine overgowns if she was to include any books at all. And she simply could not bear the thought of not packing her Psalter and Book of Hours.

She closed the bag and stood staring at the door, her bag clutched to her chest. Should she try to leave now? Or wait until everyone had gone to bed? If she left now, Muriel would surely discover she was gone. Could she trust Muriel not to tell the king?

But she could not wait until morning, as the wedding would take place tomorrow. If she waited, Shiveley and the king would send their guards after her and she would not get far.

Her heart pounding, she went to the window. The castle bailey was deserted except for a servant who was drawing water from the well. But then several men appeared, walking away from the castle and across the bailey toward the gate. They approached the well and refilled their water flasks. They packed away the water on the cart their donkey was pulling and continued toward the gate leading out of the bailey to the road beyond.

The party of travelers was the same group with the kind man who had saved Alma’s little sister.

She had to take off her elaborate silk dress. But the neckline was too small to pull over her head, and the dress buttoned down the back.

She took hold of the neckline and jerked with all her strength.Buttons flew off, pinging against the wall behind her. She pulled it over her head and flung it away. She grabbed one of the gowns she had borrowed from the servants’ quarters, then pulled it over her head and over her long white undergown.

She snatched up her bag and ran out the door.

Chapter Three

As she hurried down the darkened corridor lit only by afew torches, Evangeline pulled the metal circlet from her hair, then took it and the veil attached and stuffed them behind a loose stone in the wall. Her hair fell unencumbered down her back, and she ran her hand through the few small braids that had been woven through her hair, unbraiding them and jerking her fingers loose when they became entangled.

No one else met her in the corridor, but once she reached the back stairs, she could hear voices. The servants would be running around tending to their extra duties due to all the guests in the king’s retinue—all the extra food to be prepared, extra beds to be readied, as well as the care of the extra horses.

She could only hope they would be too busy to notice her.

Evangeline slipped from the bottom step to the door that led outside. Just as her foot touched the ground, someone grabbed her arm from behind.

Evangeline cried out.

“What are you doing?”

“Muriel!” Evangeline clutched her bag closer to her chest.