Once Upon a Dark October

Chapter Twenty-Six

T apestries were useful for more than decoration, I learned. I borrowed the ones without tears or fraying threads and hung them where the far corner of the dining room had fallen away into rubble. The tapestries were the only shield I had against the wind; they dampened the cold but couldn’t smother its bellowing. And since I had nothing to prune the ivy and overgrowth that I had pushed through the cracks, it remained, autumnal colors like soft paper on the walls, vines twisted and reaching. Crimson and purple-red leaves sprouted over the ceiling, cascading from the chandeliers with a macabre beauty.

Back and forth from the kitchen and the dining room I went, stirring the thick stew while it cooked and then dashing over to continue tidying an impossible mess. Broken chairs, cobwebs strangling the room, mice and squirrels chasing each other through crumbling stone. I had to repurpose the drapes in a neglected drawing room to serve as a tablecloth. After clearing the dust and hastily washing the floors, I managed to start a fire in the hearth. At least that began coaxing out the icy air in earnest. I’d have to keep it blazing so her guests might ignore the gaping holes in the walls.

I found an entire set of silverware—real silver, with a collection of fine porcelain plates and crystal-cut wine glasses—in the gigantic mahogany sideboard. I had no idea where they had come from, because they couldn’t have survived centuries, not if the people had stripped this place of its finery. It must have belonged to the last High Council to reside in the castle. While I was washing everything in the kitchens, I realized the heavy silver utensils were the work of an alchemist. It had lost its scent long ago, but I could tell the difference.