Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 20 - Wings of the Raven

Other than that they seemed very different. Princess Feodora was self-confident whereas little Nicola was insecure and frightened. Yves felt like pulling her to him and assuring her that he would protect her in the future.

He had never met a girl who roused his feelings of affection to such a degree.

“Well, it’s very elegant here,” he said.

She gave him a beaming smile, a smile that he felt he could have died for. For an instant he had the feeling that this was the reason the princess was so strict with Nicola: because she considered the girl to be her rival. Just like Snow White and the evil queen?

But one didn’t have the right to draw such conclusions about someone one had known for only a few minutes! Yves was ashamed of himself.

They were sitting in a heavily furnished room. The candles in the silver chandelier compensated for the darkness in the room created by the drawn curtains. The walls were of dark panelling covered by rustic hangings. The furniture was old and provincial, as was to be expected in remote Siebenbürgen. The benches and tables were made from massive timbers, and large hides covered the floor. The floorboards were so wide that Yves could only guess the size of the trees they had been cut from. He wondered about the chilly air. But that was probably just how it was in a castle built of stone. It felt as though dampness was oozing from the stones behind the tapestries and wood. Living here for a long time couldn’t be healthy.

He was once again overwhelmed by an urge to take the girl away with him ... he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her beautiful neck was accentuated because she wore her hair up: a long, arched, elegant neck with skin so smooth that all he wanted to do was caress it, feel it under his fingers. It was an exceptionally sensual neck despite the fact that it belonged to such an innocent creature.

Nicola was dressed in a fashion far from what he had been familiar with in France. He assumed her dress was typical of the upper class of this country, with its dignified, old-fashioned style. A petticoat of thick golden silk and then a sleeveless ... was it a kaftan? a sarafan? ... a kind of pinafore that hung straight down to the feet? He was confusing the terms, but it didn’t matter. The dress couldn’t conceal the fact that Nicola had a very beautiful figure. Provocative and at the same time innocent.

“Miss Nicola,” he began eagerly, stammering. “Have you seen much of the world?”

“None at all! Only this valley.”

“Oh,” Yves whispered, “I would very much like to show you all the beautiful things there are to see ...”

She bent forward, her eyes burning with longing. “Then take me with you! Don’t leave this place without me! Won’t you, please? It is like a prison here, I ...”

She peered around with a terrified look on her face, as though the dismal walls had ears. Then she whispered, “My aunt ... Well, she isn’t my real aunt, she is a distant relative, but that is what I call her – she is my guardian. I’m not allowed to do anything! I must get away from here!”

An unfamiliar unease sent a shiver down his spine. There was something about the panic in the girl’s voice and the look in her eyes that made him sense fear. Nevertheless, he said, “Your aunt seems so friendly.”

“She is dangerous,” Nicola whispered. “She can ...”

“Yes?” Yves prompted when she paused.

“No, it isn’t proper to talk about it.”

“Does she by any chance perform magic?” he asked with a small smile.

“Shhh!” she whispered, putting her fingers to her lips as she looked around in desperation.

“I promise to keep quiet. But you cannot stay here ...”

“No, now that I’ve met you I refuse to stay another day! We must ...”

She stopped abruptly as Princess Feodora re-entered the room. Yves stood up immediately.

“Lunch is ready in the dining room,” the princess said to the two young people. “Or whatever you want to call it this late in the day.”

“What about my uncle?” Yves asked.

The princess lifted her hand. “Don’t worry about him. It’s easy to become completely absorbed in the beautiful landscape of these parts. We’ve even had guests who have wandered about for two days at a time simply because they were unable to tear themselves away from the gorgeous forest.”

Gorgeous? thought Yves, and shuddered at the memory of the forest he and his uncle had passed through. It had given them the impression of death and destruction, and exactly the same kind of forest grew around the castle. In fact the strange, overgrown forest, with its drooping branches, surrounded the entire valley, and practically concealed it! Yves did not care for this forest in the least and could not imagine his uncle suddenly taking a liking to it.

Yves followed the ladies into the dining room. He was worried about the baron. He would have preferred to go out and look for him at once. But his uncle might have gone back to the inn? The thought put Yves’ mind at ease.

The princess turned towards him and, biased as he now was by Nicola’s words, he was convinced when he looked at her that her black eyes contained all sorts of secrets. But that was completely unfair, he thought. One shouldn’t judge people in advance!

In a gentle yet authoritative voice, she said, “I have given orders to the servants to lay out the food and then to withdraw. We must not be disturbed now that we have such a cultured visitor.”

Yves mumbled that she was much too kind, though he agreed with her completely. He and his uncle were indeed extremely cultured, at least compared with the inhabitants of this barbaric part of Europe.

He gazed at Princess Feodora’s hair and its incredible black shine. It made him think of the flashing black wings of the ravens that had flown past him and his uncle when they first arrived in the valley. The princess was dressed like Nicola, just as temptingly dark and mysterious, but in different colours.

She was a practitioner of witchcraft, Nicola had said. Or rather, he himself had said that.

It didn’t surprise him. Princess Feodora seemed capable of anything.

The table was beautifully set with vegetables, meat and fish from the valley. But Yves felt there was something not quite right about it all. Perhaps it was his concern for his uncle that prevented him from enjoying the lavish meal before him.

And that he was constantly thinking about Nicola and how he was going to get her out of the castle.

It was obvious that the princess must not know anything about it. She did indeed seem dangerous, as Nicola had pointed out. Her flashing black eyes, her voice that was now gentle and cooing, now hard as steel, and the unpleasant sharpness of her gaze whenever she looked at Nicola. It almost seemed that it was filled with hate!

It gradually became clear to Yves that Feodora was making a pass at him. Perhaps her hateful glances towards Nicola were due to the fact that both women were competing for his attentions?

But Nicola was not competing for him. She didn’t have to. He was already as fascinated by her as he could be. It just wasn’t in her nature to offer herself to a man.

Princess Feodora, on the other hand, had absolutely no scruples of that kind. Her only disadvantage was her age. Yves was some years younger than her, but had the circumstances been different he would have thought nothing of flirting a little with her. She was a dazzlingly beautiful woman with a strong sex appeal.

But he had already made his decision. Nicola or no one!

For that reason it became very awkward for him when the older woman placed her hand on his arm and gave him knowing glances and clear invitations. At the same time he was extremely proud of all the female adoration he was receiving, for, to tell the truth, Yves was not a little conceited.