Chapter Three

My eyes drift open at the feeling of soft sunlight over my face. I look around the unfamiliar room letting out a deep yawn. Casting my eyes towards the window I see no sunlight but silvery moonlight filling the room instead. That's right I'm in the Shadow Moore where I might never see the sun again.

     I pull the bed sheets from my body as crisp air brushes my skin. Shivering I pull myself from the bed. Looking around I spot a clean pair of linens on the dresser top. I approach the dresser my fingers inching out toward the clothes. The silky fabric that caresses my fingertips is unfamiliar. Never had such a nice piece of material been allowed to touch my skin.

Taking off the nightgown I had previously been given I slip into the clean dress. The gown is a deep red with black lace laying over the skirt. I turn to look into a full-body mirror. My red curls are a tangled mess. Sighing I begin to run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to fix it. My fingers catch the knots in my curls but I can't seem to rid myself of them.

This isn't going to work. Pulling my fingers from my hair I groan. I turn towards the door, wringing my fingers together my mind races. Is it safe to go out there or should I wait here? Approaching the door I reach out a shaky hand and open the door.

A cold gust of air blows into the room making me shiver. I peer out into the hallway and see no one in sight. Stepping out in the hallway I begin to look around.

     The black rug laying over the marble floor is plush against my bare feet. The corridor is shrouded in shady darkness as if it were night. Candles brighten the hallway enough to see. The pearl wall paper shines in the candle light.

     I begin to walk through the silent corridor. The stillness of the manor chills me. This place is lifeless, almost as if no one has ever lived here. The only thing that can be heard is my light footsteps as I continue through the manor.

As I round a corner my foot catches on a fold in the rug. I reach out in an attempt to catch myself grabbing the unsuspecting person in front of me. As I fall I yank them down with me and we both crash onto the floor. Sitting up I move my curls out of my face peeking at the person I knocked over.

Pyotr sits on the floor across from me. I'm surprised by the sight of him. He's dressed differently from yesterday. His long black hair hangs loosely around him. No longer dressed in a suit the collar of his shirt is open exposing his pale skin. I blush at the sight of his bare chest quickly adverting my gaze.

"I was not expecting to see you so early in the morning miss...," Pyotr pauses and realize I never gave him my name.

"Clara, my name is Clara," I tell him.

"Well miss Clara I was not expecting to see you."

"I-I woke and there was no one. Was I-I not supposed to leave?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his glowing orange eyes staring into mine. Offering me a hand he pulls me to my feet.

"That is not what I meant at all miss. You simply gave me a fight," he admits.

I laugh at his words. I gave him a fight, how absurd. I giggle a little at the thought of Pyotr being frightened.

"May I ask what you find so funny," Pyotr grins.

"I'm sorry m'lord I-I simply did not expect you to be f-frightened by me," I respond.

"It is only normal when someone sneaks up behind you and then pulls you to the floor," he teases.

I can feel my face flush. Adverting my gaze to the ground I begin to fidget with my fingers.

"I humbly a-apologize m'lord I... I didn't mean to push you," I say.

Pyotr sighs and I see him hold a hand out to me.

"It was merely an accident no need to fret. Would you allow me the honor of escorting you to breakfast?" He asks.

I lift my head looking into his burning eyes tentatively I take his hand. Pyotr's large hand engulfs mine sending warmth up my arm. I find myself suddenly conscious of our proximity.

"No need to look so nervous if you do not like something tell me and I will not do it," he says.

"I-I surely will m'lord," I respond.

"I do hope you are hungry in honor of our guest my shades have cooked up quite the storm," he tells me.

     Shades? Is that what he calls his servants?

"I am q-quite famished," I murmur.

We continue through the mansion hand in hand until we reach the dining hall.