Page 1 of Tangwystle
one
One thingyou should know about me is I always hated when people rang the front bell. It interrupted my reading.
My frustration seemed particularly worse the first time I met Baz Coldwell.
It was early in the morning, and if I’d had any sense of self-preservation, I’d have spent the time eating breakfast. Instead, I’d settled on my book and sighed at the interruption.
I’d finally arrived at the heroine killing the dragon rider and plucking his heart from his chest, when the sharp buzz of the bell cut in. Used so rarely, my shoulders jerked, and the book slipped from my hands, leading to a mad fumble to save it from the ground.
Despite the buzz of the bell going off, my head turned toward the side door. Visitors to Blackwell Manor almost exclusively entered through this door.
Perhaps Jettson had arrived with a delivery of coal. But it wasn’t Thursday, and Jettson kept to his schedule.
I frowned further at the only other possibility that came to mind. Gretel. The servant from Clinemell Manor was one of the few who popped her head in. Her curly, blonde nuisance of a head.
But there was no tall, leggy blonde peeking through the grated window in the door. I had to shake my head, reminding myself that whoever it was, had used the front door and therefore it couldn’t possibly be any of the individuals I normally dealt with.
The bell buzzed again, like a jolt of sharp static. An empty dish rattled on the counter. I climbed up the stairs, the bell echoing in the empty halls of the cold manor. Frost still lined the ground this time of year, and no fires were lit.
I continued to follow the noise of the bell, rolling my eyes when the intruder switched to knocking. If I’d had it my way, I’d still be downstairs, reading.
“Yes!” I replied to the front door and secretly hoped the person on the other side heard my irritation. “All right!” I cried back when the knocking only increased.
I questioned if I had accidentally left the front gate open. Blackwell Manor faced out onto the street, and it would not do if someone had slipped in. At best, someone would trash the garden. At worst, they’d try to break in and scavenge for whatever they thought they could find.
Not many would dare to break into a manor, but by then it’d become well known that the master of Blackwell Manor had deceased nearly six months ago. Luckily, just the name, Blackwell, had kept most people at bay. Scavengers had at least some sense not to wreck such an esteemed family’s property.
“Is someone there?” The voice was muffled thanks to the great door.
I must admit I hesitated, torn between hiding below or squaring my shoulders. Most knew me in town, and they’d expect nothing less. The servant of Blackwell Manor, kept her spine straight at all times.
The hearth in the front parlor hadn’t seen a fire in six months, but there was a heavy iron bar previously used to stokeit. The cold material bit into my skin and nearly clattered to the floor when I lugged it back to the door.
“I request you open the door.” The words were uncharacteristically polite for a scavenger.
“This is Blackwell Manor,” I yelled back, hoping my voice could be heard through the thick door.
“Yes.” The male voice replied, his tone clipped. Perhaps I imagined it, but I swear there was a little sigh as he added, “That is why I am here.”
“Deliveries are to use the back gate,” I said, my fingers wrapping around the iron bar.
“Tell me, are the servants at Blackwell Manor always so polite?”
Stars above, he was one of those sarcastic idiots.
“Do you have a delivery or not?” I yelled back.
“Of a sort,” the voice offered.
At that point, I swore he was just trying to piss me off.
“Could you please open the door?” he asked. “I’m quite cold.”
So was I, but you didn’t see me complaining.
It took two hands to turn the lock on the door. I placed the iron bar next to the door, making sure it was still within reach. After a moment of hesitation, snowflakes scattered onto the black stone floor. I was a short woman struggling to open it in the first place, and I knew the moment it cracked open, it wouldn’t take a lot for whoever was on the other side to shove their way in.
I pulled the door fully open, my fingers itching for the iron bar, but kept my chin lifted as I faced this newcomer. “Yes,” I asked in an even voice, blinking at a much taller man.
