permanent sleeping place. He couldn’t bear the pain and embarrassment of Sylvie’s possible rejection of him so he very rarely risked it. The longer the situation continued, the more difficult he found it to approach her. Unhappiness lodged in his heart like a chip of ice, permeating everything he did and affecting everyone around him. Yul’s darkness of spirit was all-pervading, made worse by the waning of his ability to channel the Earth Magic.
Sylvie kept herself busy and progressively threw herself into the crafts that everyone else around her worked on, and which were becoming so important to Stonewylde’s economy. As she became more adept she would sometimes ask a couple of the girl boarders to babysit so she could join other women working in the cosy sitting rooms downstairs, or even down in the Village. She felt herself gradually become more integrated into the community now she was no longer so totally wrapped up in Yul. She was more receptive to others and found people starting to relax in her company and talk more openly; it was the one positive thing that kept her going during the long dark days and nights.
She found the evenings difficult too and as the hour for bedtime approached she’d become withdrawn, quiet and worried. Although she longed for Yul, ached for the warmth and closeness they’d always shared, another part of her had begun to hope he’d stay downstairs and leave her alone. He drank more now than ever before. Instead of a glass of wine with dinner he now finished off the whole bottle before going down to his office. She knew he drank mead in the evenings while he worked, for she’d smelt it on him and seen empty bottles being taken away. The rare times when he had come to share her bed she heard his speech slur and stumble and noticed his grey eyes lose focus. She knew he was trying to blur his disappointment at her coolness, but she dreaded a repeat of that drunken assault and hated the thought of Yul being anything less than in full control of himself.
Bluebell had been always a poor sleeper and now often woke during the night. In the past Yul had been very firm about her staying in her own bed, but now Sylvie found it easier to let the little girl climb into her large empty bed for the rest of the night. It helped keep her ghosts at bay, too. Magus continued to haunt her subtly, usually at night, and Sylvie wondered every day whether it was real or just a figment of her imagination. She’d catch the faintest whiff of his scent which would send her heart racing in panic, terrified to open her eyes in case his smiling face loomed over her. Several times, in the moment between waking and sleeping, she saw a shadow move in the darkness, and Sylvie was sure she heard the creak of a soft footstep in the next room on more than one occasion. Once she’d caught the glimmer of silver hair in the reflection of her mirror and had spent the rest of the night curled up in a ball under the bedcovers, terrified of what else was in the room with her.
There were many small and seemingly insignificant events that began to accumulate into a terrifying catalogue. Sometimes, despite not touching a drop of it since that awful December thirteen years ago, Sylvie awoke with the sweet taste of mead on her tongue. Often, for no logical reason, she’d feel a draught whispering on her skin or stirring her hair, as if Magus were touching her with gentle fingertips. Each one of her senses picked up on Magus’ presence and, as the incidents increased, her fear fed itself, making her jumpy and tense even during the day. There was nobody she could confide in about this; one of her biggest fears was that everyone would believe she’d relapsed back into psychosis.
The rift between Yul and Sylvie didn’t go unnoticed by Miranda, who grew more and more concerned. Only a few months ago everything had been fine, their passion for each other had been almost embarrassingly evident. Many a time she’d intercepted their smouldering glances during public events, sensing the almost tangible synergy that existed between them. But not now. Their discord was palpable and it affected everyone living in the Hall. They’d previously been a beacon of harmony but now shed misery and tension as a dog sheds