The Curse of Caledon
The young woman gripped her sword tightly in both hands and brandished it threateningly at her dark-haired adversary. “The Dragon’s Fire belongs to Caledon, Adrian Zandor! Give it back, or I shall take it by force!”
The handsome man opposite her laughed cruelly. With a menacing ring of steel, he unsheathed a sword about a third larger than hers from the scabbard at his side. “Everyone thinks that the Fire belongs to them, and yet I’m the one who has it. Come and get it, then, Ciara. I dare you!”
With a shout of rage, Ciara charged him. He met her rush with his weapon raised, and sparks flew as the blades crossed. The group of watching students gasped in excitement.
Lauryn Grenleigh, standing on the stone steps of Caledon Castle before the open, carved oak front doors, watched the action unfold in the spring sunshine on the outdoor stage across the lawn and rolled her eyes exasperatedly.
“I want every mention of that ridiculous ruby cut from the scripts,” she muttered. A wayward strand of wavy, blond hair, fallen from the smoothly gathered knot at the nape of her neck, tickled her cheek, and she impatiently tucked it behind her ear.
“Why?” Kelly Lowman, also watching the swordplay, albeit with a much more amiable expression, glanced over at Lauryn with a broad grin. The crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled warmly behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “The people love it. It’s fun, and what would Caledon be without its Dragon’s Fire legends?”
“More accurate,” Lauryn replied tartly. “We are a museum. Our job is to deliver Caledon’s facts of history to the populace, not to entertain them with reenacted faerie tales that confuse fantasy with reality. They’re going to want me to put an animatronic dragon out there next.”
Kelly laughed. “Ooh, they’d love it! Especially if we could get it to breathe fire! But that would be so expensive. Lewis and the board would never go for it.”
“Neither would I,” Lauryn returned drily. “Dragons did not exist, Kelly. They have no place in a museum.”
She turned from the drama on the stage and stepped into the grand hall of the castle.
Three groups of schoolchildren, complete with teachers and parent volunteers, clustered under the massive chandelier before the wide staircase with the gargoyles etched in the iron railings. A cheerful-looking, bright-voiced young woman was just beginning her greeting to them, standing four stairs up so that everyone could see her.
“Welcome to the Caledon Castle Museum, where history comes to life! We hope that you enjoy our exhibits as well as our interactive performances throughout the day. Do not be alarmed by sudden swordplay or any other unexpected events unfolding before your eyes in any part of the castle, inside or out. It’s all part of the magic that is Caledon! Staff members are available to gladly help you with any concerns you may have; just look for the blue and gold vests. All areas of the castle are wheelchair accessible, except for the turrets. The turret staircases are not recommended for anyone with mobility challenges, and the dungeons are closed to the public. A video tour of the turrets and the dungeons plays on a continual loop in the viewing room to your right: the former castle parlor. Elevators to the second floor are to your left, and the cafeteria is located on the main level. A friendly reminder, Caledon Castle Museum is generously supported by Ulliac Resources: mining Caledon for a brighter tomorrow. We hope you enjoy your day with us. Have fun and learn lots, walking in the footsteps of royalty!”
Descending the stairs with a movie-star smile, the speaker wove her way through the crowd of children to place her microphone under the front counter, which sat like a square, solid wart at the side of the grand hall near the study, manned by admissions staff and a security guard dressed in the navy blue uniform of the Royal Elite Guard.
As the museum guides began organizing the children into groups to move them into different areas of the building, the welcoming speaker stalked past Lauryn and Kelly, her bright smile melting into an eye roll and a scowl as soon as her back was turned to the guests.
“I’m going for a smoke,” she muttered, drawing a pack of cigarettes from her vest pocket as she headed out the door.
“At least five meters from the entrance, Brianna.” Lauryn raised her voice to carry to Brianna’s ears over the growing clamor of the excited children. “And don’t use the planters as ashtrays again, or it will mean your job.”
Brianna grimaced darkly at Lauryn and then flounced outside.
“If looks could kill…” Kelly murmured.
“She can get over herself,” Lauryn replied. “I’m sick of her attitude.”
The groups of children departed the grand hall in several different directions, and Lauryn started for the stairs, Kelly tagging along. “Going to complain to human resources about her?”
“I already have.” Lauryn’s high-heels clicked on the stone stairs. “She won’t get many more warnings. Summer’s coming. She won’t be hard to replace.”
“Have we got lots of summer applicants again?”
Lauryn smirked. “According to human resources, Ampleforth has a never-ending abundance of high-school girls longing to dress up in period costumes and strut around here pretending to be princesses all day.”
“Not many who can do the sword choreography like Holly can,” Kelly observed, nodding back down the stairs to where the actors from outside had just entered. “She’s remarkably talented.”
“Yes, well, she’s not a high-school student,” Lauryn admitted, glancing behind her at the chestnut-haired beauty who had portrayed Ciara. Small girls swarmed her, all chattering at once and trying to touch her hair and dress, while Holly bore her trials with a patient smile. “Nor is she in any danger of getting fired.”
The man who had played Adrian followed Holly inside, laughing at half a dozen young boys who were trying unsuccessfully to dispossess him of his sword.
“Barreidh!” he growled, drawing the weapon and playfully waving it over his head, out of their reach. “That’s what they said in the thirteenth century at the beginning of a swordfight. It means ‘ready.’ Are you ready to do battle with me? Don’t pick a fight you can’t win!”
The boys leaped up, reaching fruitlessly for the rapier, shouting with delight.
“Who’s the fellow playing Adrian?” Lauryn asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the tall man, who had dark, wavy, collar-length hair slicked back from a high forehead, and carried himself well in his medieval costume of tunic, leggings, and boots. “I don’t think I’ve seen him around here before.”
“You haven’t noticed him?” Kelly teased. “He’s been here for about three weeks—and I notice him every time we’re on the same floor! I don’t know his name. I get tongue-tied when we’re in the same room. He looks like a god, and he does the swordplay so well it makes me swoon!”
“He and Holly were well-matched,” Lauryn agreed coolly.
“Someone should be commended for hiring him.” Kelly nodded emphatically. “A good actor, and easy on the eyes. Can’t go wrong with that.”
Lauryn snorted. “Isn’t there enough to look at in here without having to ogle the actors?”
“He’s a study in medieval men’s fashion.” Kelly stuck her nose in the air. “Strictly educational.”
"Educational?” Lauryn scoffed. “He’s at least ten years younger than you.”
Kelly winked. “No harm in looking! He’s probably about your age. Ever considered having a relationship with something other than your job?”
Before Lauryn could retort, Kelly continued smoothly, “I’m off. Exhibits don’t preserve themselves.”
Casting one last glance at the man downstairs, Kelly walked briskly down the stone corridor toward the south turret and the suites marked off as staff areas.
Lauryn leaned over the west railing, looking into the ballroom below where a group of students clustered before the ancient thrones, which were cordoned off with a velvet rope and a sign stating “Please Keep Off the Thrones.”
“We will allow five students at a time onto the balcony,” the guide was saying, “with an adult to accompany them. The view is spectacular, but there is a drop of two hundred feet to the ocean below, so please be careful…”
Lauryn watched as the first group exited the glass doors with exclamations of excitement. In addition to the carved granite railing, a thin but sturdy wire cage enclosed the balcony entirely from the floor to a height of seven feet. The guide’s warning was moot; no one would be falling over the railing to the sea-washed rocks below.
“Welcome to Caledon Castle Museum! We hope that you enjoy our exhibits…”
Lauryn turned back toward the grand hall as Brianna started her bright introduction again, this time to a small group of tourists. Holly had disappeared, and the man who had played Adrian, having disentangled all the young boys from his sword, was bounding up the stairs two at a time. At the top, he came face to face with her. He surveyed her for a moment with a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes, then bowed with a courtly flourish.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. Matthew Bramston at your service, my lady. You can call me Matt. Or if you prefer, for the next three days only, I answer to Adrian Zandor. Next week, I shall be King James of Caledon, according to the schedule.”
Lauryn squinted at him. “Your hair is wrong for King James. He was a typical Grenleigh: blue-eyed blond.”
“The public doesn’t know that.”
“They should,” she retorted. “The Grenleigh royal line tended to fair hair and blue eyes almost without exception. Even some history textbooks refer to the ‘typical Grenleigh look.’”
Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. “Regardless, that’s next week’s script, and the young lady I was just attempting to brutally impale with my sword shall then be my enchanting Myrhiadh.”
He brushed his tousled hair back from his face, then removed his glove and extended his hand to her. “And you are?”
“Lauryn Grenleigh,” she replied, accepting his hand and shaking it firmly.
The eyebrow arched again. “The curator?”
“That’s me.” Lauryn nodded.
“I’ve wanted to meet you.” He grinned broadly. “You’re Queen Lauryn.”
“I beg your pardon?” Lauryn frowned.
“Oh.” His expression grew sheepish. “That’s what some of the others said you were called.”
“Well, not to my face until now.” Lauryn scowled. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Sorry.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Not long enough to know how to avoid sticking my foot into my mouth in truly royal fashion, apparently.”
His apologetic expression did not melt Lauryn’s iciness. She waited impatiently.
“Almost a month,” he added, to answer her question.
“You’re a docent?” she asked. “On the payroll or volunteer?”
“Actor,” he replied, “who also guides museum tours, so a docent too, I suppose. Yes, on the payroll. My job is to bring history to life for all these kids.”
“You make myths and romantic faerie tales come to life,” she retorted. “We have little more than dates and names to go by, as facts go.”
Matt laughed suddenly and gestured down the wide hallway. “We have a lot more than that, judging by the few hundred rooms in this castle full of documents and artifacts from times gone by.”
“We have a fairly impressive collection,” Lauryn admitted, unable to keep the pride from her voice.
“The fun part of Caledon’s history is the legends.” Matt glanced slyly at her. “Most of them are grounded in truth, anyway. The facts fit them for the most part.”
“They have their moments of truth,” Lauryn agreed. “Very fleeting moments. But we should be trying to make legends fit facts, not the other way around.”
“Take the legends about Princess Katherine, for example,” he argued. “They fit the dates and the documentation.”
Lauryn rolled her eyes. “Those are some of the worst! In her time, leaving her home without guidance or protection to live in an enemy nation where she would have had to be completely independent and take care of herself would have been unfathomable. Defying her father—unthinkable. She would have been raised knowing that she would marry a prince for the sake of her nation and would have expected nothing less.”
“So she went to Langdon to marry one prince, married a different prince, became the mother of three, and has been buried in the royal graveyard at the Cathedral in Langdon since 1649. Yet there’s a tombstone outside this very castle that bears her name and says that she died in 1602, at the age of nineteen,” Matt countered. “We know that’s not true, and we know she’s not buried there, so why is hers the only empty grave at Caledon Castle?”
Lauryn stared at him with a glimmer of respect in her eyes. “You know your dates.”
“I’m not trying to one-up you,” he said earnestly, “but it does make one wonder—that empty grave with the wrong dates. What do you say when people ask you about that, without going into the legends?”
Lauryn frowned. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked. Not everyone knows that the grave is empty.”
“But that’s a fact we should be sharing with the public, isn’t it?” Matt’s eyes twinkled. “The empty grave is an undisputed fact. She’s not there. That’s history. So explain it without using the legends.”
“There are gaps in the historical record,” Lauryn huffed. “Absence of facts doesn’t make the legends true. They are simply a storyteller’s attempts to fill in the holes. We will never know.”
Matt bowed again. “My apologies. I did not intend to upset you.”
Scowling, Lauryn turned on her heel and stalked down the hall, passing countless rooms full of displays of documents and artifacts, until she reached the suite marked “Staff Only.” Punching her personal security code into the lock, she let herself inside and retreated to her corner office, where the windows looked out to the south, over the stables to the sea, and to the east, past the castle graveyard and the walls, over what had once been emerald fields, but was now crowded city.
She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to stifle the anger this arrogant actor had stirred. There were many people at the museum she merely tolerated, rather than liked. What was one more?
If she was entirely in charge of the hiring and firing…
Another deep breath. Queen Lauryn? Really? If she found out who was calling her that—it was probably Brianna. One more slip from that girl and Lauryn would have enough accusations to get rid of her.
Another deep breath.
“Calm down, Lauryn,” she scolded herself silently. “They’re not worth it, and you’ve got work to do.”
She focused on the headstones in the graveyard for a long moment. She knew exactly which one was Princess Katherine’s. When she had taken over the curator’s position two years ago, she had employed ground-penetrating radar to confirm that the gravesite was empty. So why did she not tell people about it?
Nobody asked. Nobody seemed to connect that the princess named on the headstone outside was buried in Langdon City, nor that she had lived a lot longer than her monument claimed.
Lauryn could have told people, but she kept quiet because the empty grave was a historical mystery. No documents in the castle explained why a gravesite had been erected here for a young woman who was very much alive and who had lived for another forty-seven years before passing away in another country with a different surname. The only explanation was in the legends, and Lauryn did not like the legends. They were too romantic, too far-fetched.
The legends brought in money for the museum. They kept people coming back to learn the truth. But visitors were disappointed when they learned that much of what they had heard was not documented and probably did not happen.
Lauryn sighed and seated herself at her desk—an oak behemoth with its back to the door. She had changed its position two days after she had taken over the office. The previous curator had faced the door—Lauryn faced the window. She preferred looking at the graves outside than dealing with the living in the castle. Besides, the south windows offered a spectacular ocean view, and who wanted to spend their day with their back to the scenery, waiting for problems to walk through the door?
Lauryn picked up her coffee cup. Cold. She set it back down and turned her attention to her computer screen and the dozen new emails that had arrived in the last hour. Never a shortage of things to do. She needed to clear these matters so that she could focus on her pet project.
A slight rattling jarred her desk, as though someone had bumped into it. The movement lasted but a fraction of a second, but it tumbled a pen she had been playing with earlier from its precarious perch on her computer monitor to the floor.
Lauryn glanced around the room. Nothing stirred. She placed her palms on the wooden desktop. Motionless.
But the desk had moved. The pen proved it. A chill ran down Lauryn’s spine.
The handsome man opposite her laughed cruelly. With a menacing ring of steel, he unsheathed a sword about a third larger than hers from the scabbard at his side. “Everyone thinks that the Fire belongs to them, and yet I’m the one who has it. Come and get it, then, Ciara. I dare you!”
With a shout of rage, Ciara charged him. He met her rush with his weapon raised, and sparks flew as the blades crossed. The group of watching students gasped in excitement.
Lauryn Grenleigh, standing on the stone steps of Caledon Castle before the open, carved oak front doors, watched the action unfold in the spring sunshine on the outdoor stage across the lawn and rolled her eyes exasperatedly.
“I want every mention of that ridiculous ruby cut from the scripts,” she muttered. A wayward strand of wavy, blond hair, fallen from the smoothly gathered knot at the nape of her neck, tickled her cheek, and she impatiently tucked it behind her ear.
“Why?” Kelly Lowman, also watching the swordplay, albeit with a much more amiable expression, glanced over at Lauryn with a broad grin. The crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled warmly behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “The people love it. It’s fun, and what would Caledon be without its Dragon’s Fire legends?”
“More accurate,” Lauryn replied tartly. “We are a museum. Our job is to deliver Caledon’s facts of history to the populace, not to entertain them with reenacted faerie tales that confuse fantasy with reality. They’re going to want me to put an animatronic dragon out there next.”
Kelly laughed. “Ooh, they’d love it! Especially if we could get it to breathe fire! But that would be so expensive. Lewis and the board would never go for it.”
“Neither would I,” Lauryn returned drily. “Dragons did not exist, Kelly. They have no place in a museum.”
She turned from the drama on the stage and stepped into the grand hall of the castle.
Three groups of schoolchildren, complete with teachers and parent volunteers, clustered under the massive chandelier before the wide staircase with the gargoyles etched in the iron railings. A cheerful-looking, bright-voiced young woman was just beginning her greeting to them, standing four stairs up so that everyone could see her.
“Welcome to the Caledon Castle Museum, where history comes to life! We hope that you enjoy our exhibits as well as our interactive performances throughout the day. Do not be alarmed by sudden swordplay or any other unexpected events unfolding before your eyes in any part of the castle, inside or out. It’s all part of the magic that is Caledon! Staff members are available to gladly help you with any concerns you may have; just look for the blue and gold vests. All areas of the castle are wheelchair accessible, except for the turrets. The turret staircases are not recommended for anyone with mobility challenges, and the dungeons are closed to the public. A video tour of the turrets and the dungeons plays on a continual loop in the viewing room to your right: the former castle parlor. Elevators to the second floor are to your left, and the cafeteria is located on the main level. A friendly reminder, Caledon Castle Museum is generously supported by Ulliac Resources: mining Caledon for a brighter tomorrow. We hope you enjoy your day with us. Have fun and learn lots, walking in the footsteps of royalty!”
Descending the stairs with a movie-star smile, the speaker wove her way through the crowd of children to place her microphone under the front counter, which sat like a square, solid wart at the side of the grand hall near the study, manned by admissions staff and a security guard dressed in the navy blue uniform of the Royal Elite Guard.
As the museum guides began organizing the children into groups to move them into different areas of the building, the welcoming speaker stalked past Lauryn and Kelly, her bright smile melting into an eye roll and a scowl as soon as her back was turned to the guests.
“I’m going for a smoke,” she muttered, drawing a pack of cigarettes from her vest pocket as she headed out the door.
“At least five meters from the entrance, Brianna.” Lauryn raised her voice to carry to Brianna’s ears over the growing clamor of the excited children. “And don’t use the planters as ashtrays again, or it will mean your job.”
Brianna grimaced darkly at Lauryn and then flounced outside.
“If looks could kill…” Kelly murmured.
“She can get over herself,” Lauryn replied. “I’m sick of her attitude.”
The groups of children departed the grand hall in several different directions, and Lauryn started for the stairs, Kelly tagging along. “Going to complain to human resources about her?”
“I already have.” Lauryn’s high-heels clicked on the stone stairs. “She won’t get many more warnings. Summer’s coming. She won’t be hard to replace.”
“Have we got lots of summer applicants again?”
Lauryn smirked. “According to human resources, Ampleforth has a never-ending abundance of high-school girls longing to dress up in period costumes and strut around here pretending to be princesses all day.”
“Not many who can do the sword choreography like Holly can,” Kelly observed, nodding back down the stairs to where the actors from outside had just entered. “She’s remarkably talented.”
“Yes, well, she’s not a high-school student,” Lauryn admitted, glancing behind her at the chestnut-haired beauty who had portrayed Ciara. Small girls swarmed her, all chattering at once and trying to touch her hair and dress, while Holly bore her trials with a patient smile. “Nor is she in any danger of getting fired.”
The man who had played Adrian followed Holly inside, laughing at half a dozen young boys who were trying unsuccessfully to dispossess him of his sword.
“Barreidh!” he growled, drawing the weapon and playfully waving it over his head, out of their reach. “That’s what they said in the thirteenth century at the beginning of a swordfight. It means ‘ready.’ Are you ready to do battle with me? Don’t pick a fight you can’t win!”
The boys leaped up, reaching fruitlessly for the rapier, shouting with delight.
“Who’s the fellow playing Adrian?” Lauryn asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the tall man, who had dark, wavy, collar-length hair slicked back from a high forehead, and carried himself well in his medieval costume of tunic, leggings, and boots. “I don’t think I’ve seen him around here before.”
“You haven’t noticed him?” Kelly teased. “He’s been here for about three weeks—and I notice him every time we’re on the same floor! I don’t know his name. I get tongue-tied when we’re in the same room. He looks like a god, and he does the swordplay so well it makes me swoon!”
“He and Holly were well-matched,” Lauryn agreed coolly.
“Someone should be commended for hiring him.” Kelly nodded emphatically. “A good actor, and easy on the eyes. Can’t go wrong with that.”
Lauryn snorted. “Isn’t there enough to look at in here without having to ogle the actors?”
“He’s a study in medieval men’s fashion.” Kelly stuck her nose in the air. “Strictly educational.”
"Educational?” Lauryn scoffed. “He’s at least ten years younger than you.”
Kelly winked. “No harm in looking! He’s probably about your age. Ever considered having a relationship with something other than your job?”
Before Lauryn could retort, Kelly continued smoothly, “I’m off. Exhibits don’t preserve themselves.”
Casting one last glance at the man downstairs, Kelly walked briskly down the stone corridor toward the south turret and the suites marked off as staff areas.
Lauryn leaned over the west railing, looking into the ballroom below where a group of students clustered before the ancient thrones, which were cordoned off with a velvet rope and a sign stating “Please Keep Off the Thrones.”
“We will allow five students at a time onto the balcony,” the guide was saying, “with an adult to accompany them. The view is spectacular, but there is a drop of two hundred feet to the ocean below, so please be careful…”
Lauryn watched as the first group exited the glass doors with exclamations of excitement. In addition to the carved granite railing, a thin but sturdy wire cage enclosed the balcony entirely from the floor to a height of seven feet. The guide’s warning was moot; no one would be falling over the railing to the sea-washed rocks below.
“Welcome to Caledon Castle Museum! We hope that you enjoy our exhibits…”
Lauryn turned back toward the grand hall as Brianna started her bright introduction again, this time to a small group of tourists. Holly had disappeared, and the man who had played Adrian, having disentangled all the young boys from his sword, was bounding up the stairs two at a time. At the top, he came face to face with her. He surveyed her for a moment with a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes, then bowed with a courtly flourish.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. Matthew Bramston at your service, my lady. You can call me Matt. Or if you prefer, for the next three days only, I answer to Adrian Zandor. Next week, I shall be King James of Caledon, according to the schedule.”
Lauryn squinted at him. “Your hair is wrong for King James. He was a typical Grenleigh: blue-eyed blond.”
“The public doesn’t know that.”
“They should,” she retorted. “The Grenleigh royal line tended to fair hair and blue eyes almost without exception. Even some history textbooks refer to the ‘typical Grenleigh look.’”
Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. “Regardless, that’s next week’s script, and the young lady I was just attempting to brutally impale with my sword shall then be my enchanting Myrhiadh.”
He brushed his tousled hair back from his face, then removed his glove and extended his hand to her. “And you are?”
“Lauryn Grenleigh,” she replied, accepting his hand and shaking it firmly.
The eyebrow arched again. “The curator?”
“That’s me.” Lauryn nodded.
“I’ve wanted to meet you.” He grinned broadly. “You’re Queen Lauryn.”
“I beg your pardon?” Lauryn frowned.
“Oh.” His expression grew sheepish. “That’s what some of the others said you were called.”
“Well, not to my face until now.” Lauryn scowled. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Sorry.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Not long enough to know how to avoid sticking my foot into my mouth in truly royal fashion, apparently.”
His apologetic expression did not melt Lauryn’s iciness. She waited impatiently.
“Almost a month,” he added, to answer her question.
“You’re a docent?” she asked. “On the payroll or volunteer?”
“Actor,” he replied, “who also guides museum tours, so a docent too, I suppose. Yes, on the payroll. My job is to bring history to life for all these kids.”
“You make myths and romantic faerie tales come to life,” she retorted. “We have little more than dates and names to go by, as facts go.”
Matt laughed suddenly and gestured down the wide hallway. “We have a lot more than that, judging by the few hundred rooms in this castle full of documents and artifacts from times gone by.”
“We have a fairly impressive collection,” Lauryn admitted, unable to keep the pride from her voice.
“The fun part of Caledon’s history is the legends.” Matt glanced slyly at her. “Most of them are grounded in truth, anyway. The facts fit them for the most part.”
“They have their moments of truth,” Lauryn agreed. “Very fleeting moments. But we should be trying to make legends fit facts, not the other way around.”
“Take the legends about Princess Katherine, for example,” he argued. “They fit the dates and the documentation.”
Lauryn rolled her eyes. “Those are some of the worst! In her time, leaving her home without guidance or protection to live in an enemy nation where she would have had to be completely independent and take care of herself would have been unfathomable. Defying her father—unthinkable. She would have been raised knowing that she would marry a prince for the sake of her nation and would have expected nothing less.”
“So she went to Langdon to marry one prince, married a different prince, became the mother of three, and has been buried in the royal graveyard at the Cathedral in Langdon since 1649. Yet there’s a tombstone outside this very castle that bears her name and says that she died in 1602, at the age of nineteen,” Matt countered. “We know that’s not true, and we know she’s not buried there, so why is hers the only empty grave at Caledon Castle?”
Lauryn stared at him with a glimmer of respect in her eyes. “You know your dates.”
“I’m not trying to one-up you,” he said earnestly, “but it does make one wonder—that empty grave with the wrong dates. What do you say when people ask you about that, without going into the legends?”
Lauryn frowned. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked. Not everyone knows that the grave is empty.”
“But that’s a fact we should be sharing with the public, isn’t it?” Matt’s eyes twinkled. “The empty grave is an undisputed fact. She’s not there. That’s history. So explain it without using the legends.”
“There are gaps in the historical record,” Lauryn huffed. “Absence of facts doesn’t make the legends true. They are simply a storyteller’s attempts to fill in the holes. We will never know.”
Matt bowed again. “My apologies. I did not intend to upset you.”
Scowling, Lauryn turned on her heel and stalked down the hall, passing countless rooms full of displays of documents and artifacts, until she reached the suite marked “Staff Only.” Punching her personal security code into the lock, she let herself inside and retreated to her corner office, where the windows looked out to the south, over the stables to the sea, and to the east, past the castle graveyard and the walls, over what had once been emerald fields, but was now crowded city.
She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to stifle the anger this arrogant actor had stirred. There were many people at the museum she merely tolerated, rather than liked. What was one more?
If she was entirely in charge of the hiring and firing…
Another deep breath. Queen Lauryn? Really? If she found out who was calling her that—it was probably Brianna. One more slip from that girl and Lauryn would have enough accusations to get rid of her.
Another deep breath.
“Calm down, Lauryn,” she scolded herself silently. “They’re not worth it, and you’ve got work to do.”
She focused on the headstones in the graveyard for a long moment. She knew exactly which one was Princess Katherine’s. When she had taken over the curator’s position two years ago, she had employed ground-penetrating radar to confirm that the gravesite was empty. So why did she not tell people about it?
Nobody asked. Nobody seemed to connect that the princess named on the headstone outside was buried in Langdon City, nor that she had lived a lot longer than her monument claimed.
Lauryn could have told people, but she kept quiet because the empty grave was a historical mystery. No documents in the castle explained why a gravesite had been erected here for a young woman who was very much alive and who had lived for another forty-seven years before passing away in another country with a different surname. The only explanation was in the legends, and Lauryn did not like the legends. They were too romantic, too far-fetched.
The legends brought in money for the museum. They kept people coming back to learn the truth. But visitors were disappointed when they learned that much of what they had heard was not documented and probably did not happen.
Lauryn sighed and seated herself at her desk—an oak behemoth with its back to the door. She had changed its position two days after she had taken over the office. The previous curator had faced the door—Lauryn faced the window. She preferred looking at the graves outside than dealing with the living in the castle. Besides, the south windows offered a spectacular ocean view, and who wanted to spend their day with their back to the scenery, waiting for problems to walk through the door?
Lauryn picked up her coffee cup. Cold. She set it back down and turned her attention to her computer screen and the dozen new emails that had arrived in the last hour. Never a shortage of things to do. She needed to clear these matters so that she could focus on her pet project.
A slight rattling jarred her desk, as though someone had bumped into it. The movement lasted but a fraction of a second, but it tumbled a pen she had been playing with earlier from its precarious perch on her computer monitor to the floor.
Lauryn glanced around the room. Nothing stirred. She placed her palms on the wooden desktop. Motionless.
But the desk had moved. The pen proved it. A chill ran down Lauryn’s spine.
(c) 2018 Christine Stobbe
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The Curse of Caledon
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