Page 33 of Reflections of Silence

Sebastian’s voice intruded on my deliberations, swiping aside my fear.

Am I interrupting you again, my wife?

“No, of course not,” I answered, distracted by the choices before me. I trotted down one path to be brought back to the center of the courtyard I had started in a moment before, and no closer to my goal. Another choice led me to the same outcome. “Um, how do I get out of your maze?”

What are you doing in there? Never mind. Follow the red poppies. They’ll lead you back to the gate.

I breathed a gusty sigh, relief lessening the line of tension in my shoulders I hadn’t known I carried. “Thank you.” Another thought occurred to me. “Will you tell me about Amy?”

Another pause. I located a row of red poppies and followed the path. This one didn’t turn back on itself, offering me a short respite.

I’ll see you tonight, Gella.

I rolled my eyes. My new husband was never one not to be enigmatic, it seemed. I promised myself I’d ask all the questions I needed tonight.Andget the answers, too, though I knew he wouldn't make those easy. I smiled to myself, likely looking like a loon as I traipsed away from the looming shadows for a brief respite.

Until I took a wrong turn.

The red poppies turned to whites, then a dusky purple. In the deepening shadows, they became more difficult to pick out. Finally, the petals turned black. I groaned, lifting my skirts to myankles, trotting in ever quicker steps. The shadows deepened, melding the rows together as the sun hung above the horizon. The end of the path appeared to open out ahead. I picked up my pace, though the staff were likely long gone.

Huffing, I reached the end, and stepped onto a slippery tile. Skidding a little, I flailed for balance as the sun sank out of sight, daylight succumbing to a dusky twilight, back in the center of the mosaic I thought I had long left behind.

Lost.

CHAPTER TWELVE

GISELLA

I turned back in the direction from where I had come, but I could barely see the poppies, let alone discern their color in the failing dusk. A scream of frustration edged with panic lodged in my throat. I swallowed it down, refusing to let a simple garden maze overcome me.

Follow the poppies, indeed. I shook my head, hoping for more instructions, but Sebastian was nowhere in my head. Stepping towards one of the paths, I bent down, running my hand over the tops of plants. Soft petals brushed my hand. All I had to do was follow them.

Follow, follow, follow.

Such a simple task. Clenching my stomach, I refused to allow the impending panic rise higher. This had to be the right choice, I told myself firmly. The hedges loomed above me as I strode along the path, my quick pace reducing my short pants by a minor amount. Progress meant finding everyone who no doubt thought I’d wandered off at their master’s bidding.

Heart hammering, I took a turn at a row of dark poppies, or at least, what I thought were poppies, then another. Finally, I arrived at a forked section of the maze I didn’t recognize and took the left-hand path.

Without the sun to guide me I was guessing, but in the back of my mind, doubt seeded.

“Stupid, stupid,” I muttered to myself.

I trotted on between the hedges that seemed to close in on me. Small, waxy leaves brushed my fingers. Snapped twigs caught on my skirts. I trotted faster, breaking into an outright run until the hedge opened out into a broad space. My gait slowed as I blinked into the darkness.

Water bubbled nearby, and I almost ran to the fountain in my relief. The gargoyle stood tall, his bulky arms raised. Cold air shifted around me, and I turned to see the castle rising dark and forbidding against the starlit sky.

A void of its own, stealing the light. Relief washed over me. At least I knew where I was, now. I walked around the fountain, then paused, studying the gargoyle. His arms were twisted, muscular, a more masculine shape than I pictured earlier in the day.

I frowned, recalling his shape as hunched, bent. But then, I hadn’t walked around this side of the fountain. Well, Ihad, but Sebastian and I were arguing at the time, and I doubted I would have noticed much at all. The craftsmanship of the creature was incredible. Whoever had carved him had created the face perfectly—the right mixture of handsome and grotesque in perfect symmetry.

“If you’re done staring.” The face moved, but I couldn’t reconcile it with the voice—until the gargoyle lowered his hands. I shook my head, retreating a step, but he followed me, peering down. “It is quite rude, you know.”

My mouth stretched wide, I sucked in a lung full of air, retreating in a flurry of steps while I tried to remind my voice how to scream.

You told me no other monsters were in your lands!

Another unanswered plea. I should be used to them by now.

I tripped over my own feet, stumbling back into something hard, unforgiving. A hand wrapped around my mouth. The water stopped running, and all I could hear in the garden was the echo of my silenced scream.

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