Page 23

She stood and strode to the door, picking up the lantern on the way.

The same servant was waiting there, his gray eyes and gray skin blending with the stone walls even with the lantern light on his face.

“Is there a way I can know whether it is night or day? I feel disoriented already.” She smiled at him, hoping he would smile back.

He shook his head.

“There isn’t?”

He shook his head again.

“Does the queen call it a night when I sleep and a day when I wake?”

He pressed his lips together and shrugged one shoulder.

“How will I even know when it has been a year?” Her voice rose with fear.

He turned and began to walk down the hall, motioning for her to follow him. He led her to the room with paints and canvases and pointed at a book on a table near the fireplace.

The book was open. The pages were blank, and a quill and inkwell sat to one side.

“Am I allowed to write in it?” Gytha asked. The very idea of a book to write in was so extravagant that it was difficult to believe.

The servant nodded.

“Do you have a name?” She turned to look at him, holding up the light.

He nodded once, and if she was not mistaken, there was a faint, reluctant light of amusement in his gray eyes.

“Will you tell me what it is?”

He shook his head.

“May I give you a name, just so I have something to use?” He stared at her, and she rushed on, “Magni? It’s a good, strong name. Is that all right?”

He blinked several times, his gaze flicked away and then back, and finally he nodded once, decisively, as if this was some sort of momentous decision.

Gytha smiled, trying to be friendly and cheerful. “Are you sure it is all right if I write in the book?”

The servant nodded once and gestured broadly to the room.

“I’m allowed to use it all?”

He nodded again and gestured yet more broadly, as if to encompass the entire, mysterious palace.

“May I ask for more things?”

He nodded again, apparently satisfied with her understanding.

“May I have cloth and thread for sewing? I would like to do some embroidery.” She frowned. “I would need more light, though.”

He nodded and strode away, leaving the lamp with her as if the utter darkness of the halls did not trouble him at all.

Gytha set the lamp on the table and examined the book more closely. The cover was leather, and the pages were smooth, creamy paper, bound together with waxed thread. She had never seen such an expensive thing; even the few books Torvald undoubtedly owned were not like this. Certainly they were not intended for poor peasant girls to write in!

With steps as soft as a whisper, the bear stepped into the room and came up beside her.

“Hello.” Gytha looked at him thoughtfully. “Do not look. Do not touch. Do not be afraid. I haven’t forgotten.”