Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,26
and took a seat. Gidean sat on the floor, eyeing her with fanged intent.
Mind your own business, dog, she thought as she stared back at him.
Mr. Crankshod shut the carriage door and climbed up onto the driver’s bench with the other coachman.
Oh, great, rat face is driving us, Serafina thought. She had no idea how long a trip this would be or how she could send word back to her pa. He’d ordered her to hide in the basement, not get kidnapped by the young master and his stink-breathed henchman. But at least she’d finally be able to talk to Braeden alone about what she saw the night before.
The carriage seat looked too clean for her to sit on with her basement clothing, and she was supposed to be cleaning the young master’s boots, so she knelt on the floor of the carriage and wondered how she was going to pretend to clean his boots when she didn’t have any brushes or polish. Spit and polish was one thing, but just spit was another.
“You don’t really have to clean my boots,” Braeden said softly. “I was just going along with your story.”
Just as Serafina looked up at him and their eyes were about to meet, the horses pulled and the carriage jounced forward. In a moment as unusual as it was mortifying, she actually lost her balance. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she fell against Braeden’s legs and then quickly straightened herself up.
She glanced at the seat that she suspected she was supposed to be sitting on, but the dog stared at her with his steely eyes. When she moved toward the seat, the dog growled, low and menacing, baring his teeth as if to say, If I can’t sit on the seat, then neither can you.
“No, Gidean,” Braeden chastised him. She couldn’t decide if the young master had spoken the command because he wanted to protect her or if he just didn’t want to get the inside of his carriage bloody. In any case, Gidean’s ears crumpled and his head lowered under the force of his master’s reprimand.
Seeing her chance, she slipped onto the seat opposite Braeden and as far away from the dog as possible.
As Gidean continued staring at her, she felt an overwhelming desire to hiss at him and make him back off, but she didn’t think that would go over too well with the young master, so she held back the urge.
She had never liked dogs, and dogs had never liked her. Whenever they saw her, they barked. One time, she had to scurry up a tree to get away from a crazed foxhound, and her pa had to use a ladder to retrieve her.
When the carriage rumbled into a turn, Serafina looked out the window and saw the grand facade of the house. Biltmore Estate rose four stories high with its ornately carved gray stone walls. Gargoyles and ancient warriors adorned its dark copper edges. Chimneys, turrets, and towers formed the spires of its almost Gothic presence. Two giant statues of lions guarded the massive oak doors at the entrance, as if warding off evil spirits. She had marveled at those statues many times on her midnight prowls. She had always loved them. She imagined that those great cats were Biltmore’s protectors, its guardians, and she could think of no more important job.
In the golden light of the setting sun, the mansion really could be quite startlingly lovely. But as the sun withdrew its brightness behind the surrounding mountains, it cast ominous shadows across the estate, which reminded her of griffins, chimeras, and other twisted creatures of the night that were half one thing and half another. The thought of it gave her a shudder. In one moment, the estate was the most beautiful home you had ever seen, but in the next, it was a dark and foreboding haunted castle.
“Lie down and be good,” Braeden said.
She looked at him in surprise and then realized that he was talking to the dog, not to her.
Gidean complied with his master’s request and lay down at his feet. The dog seemed a little more relaxed now, but when he looked at Serafina, his expression seemed to say, Just because I’m lying down, don’t think for a second that if you do something to my master I can’t still kill you.…
She smiled to herself. She couldn’t help it—she was beginning to like this dog. She could understand him, his fierceness and his loyalty. She admired that.