hadn’t been a conscious thought – his hands had started to move of their own accord. Was he turning into a sadistic bully like his father?
Yul shook his head and looked away, gazing once more out of the window at the clear November morning. He was tired, having been up since long before dawn riding like the devil along Dragon’s Back. He’d eaten no breakfast and had been sleeping very badly on the sofa; the last thing he’d needed was his mother upset and worried, nagging at him to sort Leveret out and make her behave when she couldn’t.
He closed his eyes for a moment and could feel himself trembling – with exhaustion, hunger or both, he wasn’t sure. That was why he’d felt that momentary urge to physically punish this small and pathetically defiant girl who was no threat to him, nor to the fabric of Stonewylde. He must keep this in proportion and not let his personal problems impinge on his judgement or handling of this situation.
He looked again at Leveret and saw her properly this time. She was still small for her age and always had been. She was remarkably like him, dark-haired and scowling, with winged eyebrows, a straight nose and full mouth. Her cheek bones were sharp and her jaw a softer female version of his. Her skin was olive like his, tanned from so much time spent outdoors and this made her clear sea-green eyes, so long-lashed and slanted, all the more striking. She wasn’t pretty but was attractive in an unusual, quirky way. She was also a little dirty and clearly not interested in her appearance, for her hair was wild and messy and her clothes very basic Stonewylde work-clothes of coarse linen, dyed a muddy green.
He thought suddenly of another half-sister, Magus’ daughter by Rowan, whom he’d noticed only yesterday as she ate lunch in the Hall. Faun must be two years younger than Leveret but she was clearly very self-aware. She was already taller than this dark-haired girl before him, long-limbed and quite plump, curvy where Leveret was slight. Faun had the silver-blond Hallfolk hair, which she tossed over her shoulders at every opportunity. Her pretty, smooth face was the complete opposite to Leveret’s pointed, secretive one.
Yul felt a surge of affection for this dark sister, whom he remembered had loved him fiercely as a small girl. He recalled her climbing all over him, begging him for more stories as his reading improved, riding on his shoulders for miles when he took her up into the hills. She’d always been naughty and defiant, never respected the rules. He remembered finding her once out in the back garden amongst the raspberry canes, the fruit all gone and a guilty look on her face. She’d run circles round the two brothers closest to her in age; Yul had made puzzles and played games with them and Leveret, so much brighter, always beat them. She’d been a delightful little girl, independent and fierce but very affectionate. What had gone wrong? Why was she so awful and sullen nowadays?
‘Come and sit down, Leveret,’ he said wearily. She followed him to the old leather sofa and sat stiffly on the edge whilst he sank back into the softness of it, his long body stretched out. ‘I’m going to call for some breakfast. Will you join me? Mother says you missed it again today.’
She shook her head.
‘Leveret, I know you. You’re kind and loving and I’m sure you don’t want to upset Mother deliberately. The way you’re behaving is really getting her down. I want to work this out with you for Mother’s sake. You love her too, don’t you? Will you listen to me? We can sort this out if you’ll meet me halfway.’
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t climb down from her position of stubbornness and defiance. If she did she was scared she’d capitulate totally and burst into tears, agreeing to everything he said and giving in to what Maizie wanted. Yul was very patient at first, trying hard to get through to her. The kinder he was, the stiffer she became. She refused to communicate, hating herself for being so difficult but not knowing how to compromise.
At last he fell silent, defeated, and she relaxed a little. He was being so nice and she ached with pity for him – for the sadness in his eyes, the tired lines on his face, the way he sighed and looked as if his world were falling