Twilight of a Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

not cried out in her sleep, rousing anyone else in the household at Belle Haven.
    She peered over the side of the bed toward the figure stretched out on the pallet before the hearth. Agatha Butterydoor did not stir. The elderly servant was half-deaf, her deep slumber punctuated by soft snores.
    Meg listened for any sounds coming from beyond herroom. As the seconds ticked by and she heard nothing, she tried to relax.
    She had disturbed no one with her cries. That meant that no one would rush to comfort her either. But she should no longer need that, Meg told herself fiercely. Having just turned thirteen, she was a woman grown.
    She curled on her side, cuddling her pillow, seeking to reason the dream away. Alexander Naismith was dead. The treacherous young actor could betray her to no one. He had perished in the same fire that had destroyed the
Book of Shadows
.
    The book was gone forever or so everyone else believed. Meg wished she did not know better. The retentive memory that had once been her pride had become her curse. She rubbed her temples.
    The
Book of Shadows
was now lodged in Meg’s head. It was as if she could feel those ancient brittle pages pressing against the inside of her skull. If the Dark Queen ever found out—
    But there was no way the woman ever could. The queen was old. She was ill. She no longer had much power or influence over anyone, not even her own son, the king.
    Ariane Deauville assured Meg that the Dark Queen was no longer a threat to her. Meg so desperately wanted to believe Ariane. The Lady of Faire Isle was exceedingly wise, but she had not experienced what Meg had, seen the things that Meg had seen. Those frightening visions that insisted a confrontation between Meg and the Dark Queen was inevitable.
    Meg trembled and groped beneath the coverlet for the object she kept hidden there. She stole another nervousglance in Aggie’s direction to make sure the woman was still asleep before Meg drew the small glass orb out from beneath the covers.
    Even in the night-shadowed darkness of the bedchamber, the crystal sparkled with its dark temptation. So many times Meg had resolved to rid herself of the scrying glass, consult its strange power no more.
    But if she had been able to light a candle without wakening Aggie, Meg would have succumbed to the crystal, delving deep into the glass’s depths even though the images she found there could only result in more nightmares.
    Meg tucked the scrying glass back within the folds of her blankets. She wanted to close her eyes, drift back to sleep, but she was too fearful of her nightmare rising up to claim her again.
    After tossing and turning for several minutes, Meg swung out of bed and stumbled, stubbing her toe against a wooden stool. Wincing at the pain, she suppressed her outcry.
    It was disconcerting how clumsy she seemed to have become this past year, her body changing so much, sometimes it no longer felt like her own. Her arms and legs had become awkward, alien things, her budding breasts a source of both wonder and embarrassment.
    Meg limped to the window and eased open the casement, welcoming the fan of crisp autumn air against her flushed cheeks. Below her, the moonlight sketched a scene of bucolic serenity, the frost-struck gardens, the solid comforting shapes of the stables and barn, the distant outline of the apple orchard.
    Belle Haven was a snug manor nestled in the heart ofan island. What could be more secure than that? Meg was supposed to be safe here.
    She sighed and rested her head against the casement. The initial waft of cool air that had felt so soothing penetrated her thin nightgown, raising gooseflesh on her arms. Meg started to close the window when she caught a glimpse of movement below.
    Someone else was obviously having a bad night. A woman clad in a gray cloak wandered the garden, moonlight limning her pale skin and light blond hair.
    No, not a woman, only a ghost of one. Lady Jane Danvers was so quiet, so self-effacing, and there