Chapter 3
1522 Words
3
The next morning, I awoke with a bitter ache in my bones, but I still felt better than the night before. Sunlight streamed through a narrow window in the wall beside the bed, and I heard the faint chirp of birds outside.
The chair beside the bed was empty and the door was shut, but a tray of food sat on the nightstand. The board boasted an orange, a glass of milk, and buttered toast. I eased myself to a seated position and found my arms to be shaky but with a little more strength than last night. Even my bullet wound felt no worse than a bruised toe.
I made quick work of the orange and milk, and the food and drink revitalized me. The new energy gave me new curiosity, so I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slipped my feet onto the floor. I rested my weight on my legs and found them shaky, but still useful.
With some assistance from the wall behind the head of the bed, I rose to my feet. Voices out in the hall, however, gave me pause, but the footsteps passed the door and faded to nothing. I snatched the piece of toast from the tray and shuffled over to the door, nibbling away at the buttery goodness.
Upon reaching the door I leaned my ear against it and listened. Not a sound came to me. I tried the handle. Unlocked.
I stuck my head out into the hall and found the passage dotted with doors on either side. A few square windows high up in the wall above my head and spaced evenly apart allowed natural light into the passages. The ends of the hall disappeared around corners that turned in the direction I faced.
There wasn’t a soul in sight, so I tiptoed rightward from where a faint sound of voices emanated. That direction meant I soon ended at the corner where it turned left down another wider corridor. This hall was much shorter, lasting only twenty feet before it ended at a pair of large doors. The sounds came from there.
I crept forward and tried to peek through the wood, but they had been built well and not a single knot hole could be found. The sounds had died to a soft murmur.
My curiosity got the better of me, so I stuffed the rest of my bread into my mouth and pushed open the doors. Though they must have weighed a hundred pounds apiece, they swung easily on their well-greased hinges.
The way opened into the nave of the cathedral, and I found myself staring down the center aisle. Wooden benches on either side had each been carved from a single tree. At the opposite end stood the altar decorated in bright purple cloth and with a large candelabra atop the blanket. A huge organ stood to the left of the altar, and its golden pipes ran up the wall and ended a few feet shy of the vaulted ceiling. A few people sat in prayer on the benches but didn’t look up at my intrusion.
I considered my options, and company sounded better than seclusion. Besides, I had questions I wanted to ask that old man. Lots of questions.
I slipped around the left-hand aisle where a few long, narrow tables stood along the walls, and coarse prayer books sat in stacks on their tops. I stopped by a stack and picked one up. The handwritten title on the cover was in an unfamiliar language, and the uneven pages stuck out from the worn covers. I opened the book to find pictures and more words in the foreign script.
“Does an angel need to brush up on her hymns?”
In my surprise, I dropped the book and spun around to find myself staring at the most handsome man I’d ever seen. He sat atop the back of one of the benches with one foot on the smooth arm. The other leg dangled over the side of the pew, and he leaned forward on one bent arm over that leg as he stared at me with a pair of brilliant blue eyes. As I looked into them, they seemed to swirl with an unusual green color, like the brilliant emerald of the sea. He had sandy black hair and a tanned complexion, and on his tempting lips was a crooked smile.
As I stared at him a chuckle escaped those handsome lips. “Have I caught the angel’s lips in my basket?” He hopped down off the top of the pew, and his landing was as soft as a feather.
I shook off my surprise and shrank back from this strange man in this unfamiliar place. At my shirking, his smile wavered a little. He tilted his head to one side and studied me. “I think I’ve frightened you a little, haven’t I?” He crossed one arm over his chest and swept into a low bow. “My sincerest apologies. I didn’t mean to upset the looks of one so ethereal and, might I add,” He lifted his eyes, and a devilish smile graced his lips, “one so beautiful.”
Stranger or not, the sincere compliment brought a blush to my cheeks. The man straightened and grinned at me. “Now that’s a better look for you, my lady. Now if apologies are out of the way, we can get along to the introductions.” He pretended to remove a cap and cup it against his chest. “My name is Ros, local vagabond and troublemaker, according to the good father of this church. And what have the heavens named you, my lady?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and bowed my head a little. “I’m Kate.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? What a perfect name for someone as welcome as a summer’s breeze and as beautiful as a field of flowers.”
“Your sweet tongue will not work on the divine,” a voice spoke up, and I looked to my left in the direction of the alter to find the older gentleman from the night before walking toward us with a smile on his face. He joined our group and examined me with his soft brown eyes. “I am very pleased to see you up and about, miss. How are you feeling?”
I set a gentle hand on my injured arm and winced a little but gave him a smile. “I’m much better.” I opened my mouth to continue but hesitated.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Pray, speak, my child. None will think the less of you for your curiosity, for I myself am curious to have my questions answered, as well. However,” He cast a quick look about the nearly-deserted room, “I should very much like for us to speak in more private quarters.”
“And I would very much like to hear those answers,” Ros spoke up as he folded his arms over his chest and grinned at me. “If the lady will permit.”
The good father cast a look of curiosity at the young man. “I thought you too occupied with other matters.”
Ros’ piercing blue eyes looked me over. “Let’s just say my matters may be connected to hers, Father Collins.”
The father studied him for a moment longer before he gestured in the direction from where he had come. “Then if you will follow me.”
I allowed him to lead, while Ros followed behind me. The good father led us through a door to the left of the altar and past the organ, and down a short hall to one of the doors. The room inside turned out to be a small office with a large desk, and behind that desk was a stained-glass window that depicted a shining sun over farmland full of flocks of sheep. The walls were covered by thick bookshelves crafted from aged wood, and everything in the room was hidden by mounds of books and scrolls.
Father Collins moved one of those piles off a thick wood chair and turned the seat to me. I reluctantly accepted the chair as the two men stood between me and the exit. Ros leaned his back against one of the bookshelves near the door while the good father took an uneasy seat against a pile of some of the larger tomes.
He dipped his hands into his sleeves and looked down at me with his gentle smile. “My good lady do not fret over my questions. I only wish to know how you came to fall from the heavens on golden wings that vanished so dramatically.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am.”
Ros crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. “You’re in the kingdom of the Black Dragon clan, and currently residing in their capital city of Mavros.”
- Writer
