Once back in her room, Joan had left the instrument in a corner in favor of the landscape outside. For a second day she found herself trapped in a stone cage, rotting while life chimed all around her.
A castle had been a trap, she thought. She would have been better off in a farm or some hamlet.
Free.
They only disturbed her twice, once to bring her a new dress and the second a bit before supper, as the bell rang down in the village.
That second time Abelard had come. He found her sit on the bed, curled up in a ball of nerves. Joan did not even turn her head when he entered.
Despite the hours she still could not solve the riddle.
"You will stay in this room through supper." He told her. "Father will be there. I told him you were still out looking for the assassin."
She hardly reacted to any of that.
"Tomorrow I will say that assassin died from his wounds and was found downstream. Make it believable."
"I don't want to lie to him."
"You are nothing but lies. Joan." And he was ready to leave, his hand on the door. "Besides, it's your fault for scaring the horse."
"Abelard!"
She got up, wishing to approach him but held back. Her eyes had already fled to the side.
"Why are you the one visiting me, and not Corentin?"
"My brother is not back yet."
"He came back this afternoon. I heard him in the court."
She meant the bailey, but regardless the twin just could not believe it. "From that window?" And he crossed the room, past her like nothing to check outside. He could not even see the main gate from there, let alone the stables.
But she was right. Her future husband had come back a couple hours ago and both brothers had discussed in front of the keep.
He turned back to her.
Even though she was looking down, it felt to him like he was in a den, facing some beast that could lash out at any time. Joan had frail arms, a charming body far from the strength of harvesters, the grace of a vase made of glass and still, he could not help but feel tense.
"Just do as you are told." He told her and rushed out.
She held him by the arm. His eyes fell on that grip, wide, and he shook her off.
"Tell me what I am doing wrong." Her tone almost threatened.
"Everything?"
"At least tell me how you feel..."
"I feel like not dealing with you."
She watched him slam the door, walked to it and put her fists against the wood, all in silence. Joan muttered for herself as the steps grew distant.
"But you keep coming back. You are the one who keeps coming back to me. If it's not out of desire then what is it?"
Hatred was starting to form in her heart. But hatred could not take hold against that human. A weakling simply did not affect her in any way. No, that confused feeling could only turn on herself.
"How much weaker can I get to please you?" She grunted. "I groveled to your mother."
Noise pushed her away, of servants walking past in the dim hallway. Preparations for the supper were apace and soon the family had assembled there.
A family should have counted aunts, uncles and many children but, even counting the mistresses, the Pivert counted six. With them in the great hall had joined a few knights and men-at-arms among the most worthy, as well as a priestess.
She had left her room and was hiding near while the cooks passed by, coming from the kitchen and pantries.
The only music was laughter and voices mixed with fists slamming the tables. They were singing, drinking and sharing the meat. And in that small feast the lord's voice blasted, a thunder of joy and rage at any whim.
In the midst of this, he turned his drunken ire to the priestess.
"You won't get married, you! No man would touch those bones! Bah! Don't tell me the saintess never tasted flesh in her life!"
"She should have, your majesty, we could have used her heirs."
"So what's wrong with my son?! Marry him already!"
He was berating her, but even with a wall between them Joan could tell the whole crowd was showing restraint for that woman.
"The domain of Cormoran should be yours soon enough, your majesty, I have no doubt the church will approve. But my affairs are not with the bear."
"What is it then?" One of the twins, likely Corentin, cut in to ask. "A ritual in the woods? Should you really give credence to superstitions?"
"Your highness... we cannot let paganism and heretics encroach."
While they talked, the lord had moved along the table, so that when his voice flared again it came from the side, preceded by Adele's shriek.
"And you!" He groaned. "How long have you been with my sons? What are you waiting for, fill that belly already! I need heirs! I need heirs you hear me?!"
That made the men-at-arms laugh. The feast was too noisy to make out the rest.
"Good for nothing! The two of you should focus on one son! Or maybe I'll ravish another princess!"
And he burst in laughter, followed by his whole court. They cheered at the thought while Joan slid on the wall, trembling.
Of all the things that had her agitated, and there were so many heartless thoughts raging, one was that Abelard had not defended his property. That coward had stayed silent and in so doing not only failed his mistress but the lord as well.
She knew she understood nothing, but to not hear him was pathetic.
Before any servant could spot her she got up and rushed back to the stairs, reached them and before she could go up a priest appeared from below.
A young man with blonde hair cut in a bowl, with the face of an infant, freckles on his cheeks. The black robe was hiding his meek body.
His brown eyes expressed fear.
Could a saintess' servant tell her nature, she wondered, but it didn't matter anymore. She slipped away before he could stop her, only calling her weakly with a feeble: "W... wait!" Joan had already vanished from sight, silent as a ghost.
Almost no one was left at this floor, nor was there any light but the growing dusk at the windows.
She could still hear the voices and songs below, even when her room's door closed behind her. Already the werewolf had reached the other side, hopped on the stone frame and through the narrow opening a good ten meters above ground.
What jumped was a silver dog, far enough to reach the rampart walk. The torch of a guard burned a tower away from her.
On the other side was the moat, as wide as a river, with water flowing slowly along the shores.
For a moment she looked back at the keep's windows, those of the great hall where the low lights of the hearth had yet to beat the sunset. Those chants, that festivity was what she had craved her whole life and fled in the end.
She hopped without a second thought.