When Bronwyn woke again, twilight was falling beyond the curtains in the window. She sat up slowly, painlessly, and was surprised. The room was utterly silent, and no candles were lit against the swiftly encroaching dark. She looked about curiously, trying to see before it was too dim.
Abruptly the door opened, spilling warm golden light in the room. Bronwyn started back, flexing a shield between her and the door. But it was Bèatrix, bustling in.
“Ah, you’re awake. Lovely. Here is your new uniform, and once you’re dressed, Enru will take you to the kitchen for supper. Hurry on, now, and wash.” She set a candle and a red-and-white bundle on a table near the door. The candle’s glow revealed a basin and a silver ewer filled with water that was steaming softly in the dusky chill.
Bèatrix bustled out, businesslike, and Enru slipped in before she closed the door.
You are awake, little one, he said softly, sitting down washing a paw. Despite his nonchalant behavior, his tone was affectionate. I was beginning to wonder how long you would sleep.
“Why? How long has it been?” asked Bronwyn, sliding out of bed and yelping. “I’m naked?” she cried. “Who did this?”
You did, replied Enru with some amusement. When you changed forms.
“When I what?” Bronwyn asked.
You changed forms, dear one. You shed your physical form and became pure energy, which travels much faster. However, your physical form also included your clothes, which did not endure the journey.
“I see,” said Bronwyn. She paused, reflecting on all this, absorbing it in her usual quiet way. She drew on the clothes slowly, surprised at how well they fit. “Did Bèatrix make these for me?” she asked, turning and observing how the fabric hugged her curves.
Yes, said Enru, his voice somewhat disgruntled. She did a very fine job.
Bronwyn looked at her cat, then smiled. “You don’t like it, do you?” she asked softly. The animal flicked his ear, then suddenly began washing his paw a little too industriously. “Why, is it too…” She glanced back at her reflection, trying to find the word.
Formfitting? Low-cut? Revealing in general? supplied Enru sullenly.
“Oh, Enru, you want me to stay a little girl,” sighed Bronwyn, gathering her kitty in her arms and nuzzling his head. “But if I am to become a great Sorceress-like Bèatrix-then you have to let me grow up.”
Enru wriggled out of her grasp. You think I don’t want you to fulfill your potential? he said irritably, flicking an ear and grooming his mussed fur smooth. That is not my chief concern here.
“Then what is it?” asked Bronwyn, exasperated. She smoothed her apron, secretly very pleased at how well it fit. She’d not owned anything this nice in several years; Appleby Manor survived well enough from the family who worked it, but there was very little money for its wards to clothe themselves with. Enru was silent, licking his haunch so his expression was hidden, until Bronwyn poked him with her toe. “Enru!”
He looked at her, blinking his green eyes owlishly. Fine then. If you must know, it’s not the dress, it’s not Bèatrix, it’s not you. It’s that Tristan. He’s trouble; he’s notorious for his…appetite…for young girls. And he’s dangerous, so stay away from him!
Bronwyn stared at him, utterly bewildered. Enru was always in control of himself, and she trusted him implicitly. His reaction to the young man she vaguely remembered seemed far out of place, but she shrugged it off. “Alright, so I stay away from Tristan.”
Promise me! Enru’s voice was low, urgent.
“Okay, okay, Enru. Don’t worry. I promise.” Bronwyn looked about, sniffing the aromatic air. “Bèatrix said supper was ready. Will you show me the way?”
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