Page 11 of A Waltz with Lord Death
Chapter 6
The first snowfall of the year brought a wave of trepidation sweeping through Baywick. A food shortage plagued the land. The baron had confiscated most of the food and handed it out in rations. Bellies became hollow, sickness spreading quickly and killing even quicker. Many children and elderly had died. Pregnancies never lasted full-term. The graveyard was becoming more crowded each week. At least until the earth hardened so much that shovels could not breach the ground to bury their dead. Those bodies were burned instead.
A chill wind shrieked past the window and rattled the shutters like a ghost trying to gain entrance inside the keep. Meira shivered and tucked herself tighter into her shawl, but it did little to expel the bitter cold.
She walked briskly down the hallways of the baron’s keep, remaining as close to the torches lining the walls as possible. The baron hadn’t only decided to keep her on his payroll, but he’d relocated her to his home indefinitely.
After foretelling the loss of Margery’s baby and helping to save some of the crops from destruction, she had once again become valuable to the man.
She hoped to stay valuable.
A large fire roared in the hearth as she entered the great hall, spreading warmth throughout the room. The baron sat in a large, cushioned red velvet armchair on one side of the hearth, and on the other, Lady Justine and Lord Edgar sat beside each other, honeymoon love in their eyes.
Meira stopped several feet before the baron and curtsied. “You wished to see me, Your Lordship?”
“Ah, yes.” He wiped a few bits of breadcrumbs from his mouth with a napkin and pushed a silver tray of food away on the table. “My daughter just gave me the wonderful news that she is expecting. I do not wish Baywick’s curse to settle on her.”
Already?
Her gaze dropped to the woman’s belly, flatter than a piece of parchment. Her marriage to the viscount couldn’t have been longer than two months ago.
“Please,” Justine begged, her hand finding her belly and resting there. “I will be devastated to lose our child.”
She fought against the urge to bite her lip with uncertainty. If what Death had said was true, that babies would not be born if he did not find someone to take on the role of Life, then Justine’s child was doomed. A baby had yet to be born and live in Baywick, which meant Death had not succeeded in his goal.
But she had her reputation to think of.
“Your sash, if you will,” Meira said, holding out her hand.
Justine quickly untied the sash from around her waist and handed it to her. The moment it touched her hand, she gasped and dropped the sheer fabric.
“What is it?” Justine cried, leaping to her feet. “What will happen to the baby?”
“I see… I see…” Meira clutched her head as if plagued by a terrible headache. “I see red. Lots of red. And…and…a crying baby. Swaddled in a yellow blanket.” The other woman sighed as if in relief, holding a hand to her heart. Surely, seven months was long enough for Death to find another Life. “Your baby will live. But only if you keep up your strength through the pregnancy.”
The others exclaimed their joy, and she quickly excused herself on the pretense that she needed to rest after her “vision”. She hurried from the room and into an empty servants’ corridor. Only when she closed the door behind her did she lean back against the cold stone wall. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fortune telling was a dangerous game. One slip up could land her in a lot of trouble.
A slight scuffle several feet away caused her eyes to burst open in alarm, but surprisingly her body quickly relaxed, her heart calming. Death sat sideways on the bottom stair with his back to the wall. His eyes were closed like hers had been only moments earlier, but haggardness filled every inch of his face. Dark circles lined his eyes. He was paler than she remembered. His shoulders drooped with a heavy weariness. The shadow hounds did not accompany him today.
She glanced back and forth across the hallway, making sure they were alone before addressing him. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”
Without opening his eyes, he smirked. “Have you missed me?” But then his smile sagged. “I’ve been quite busy.”
She tried not to think about what busy meant for him. “You said you were a patient and persistent man. I almost expected you to show up on my doorstep daily.”
“So did I. But alas, here I am. Worn thin and deeply ashamed of myself.”
“Why?” She dared to venture a step closer to him, as he was much more approachable with his eyes closed and a few steps lower than eye level.
Firepoppedon one of the torches in the silence filling the cold stone hallway. Finally, he ran a hand down his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My power snapped without Life to counteract me. The last time a plague hit the world had to have been hundreds of years ago. I fear this is only the beginning.”
Plague…
Fear strummed her heart in a frenzied chord. Plagues were deadly. They killed by the bucketfuls.
“What?” she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. “Is it coming our way? Are we all going to die?”
“It’s in another country. For now. Limit your contact with other people. I don’t wish to see you dead, Meira.”
