Serafina and the Twisted Staff (The Serafina Series) Read Free

muscles of her arms and legs tightened.
    Whatever it was, it was coming.
    And it was coming now.

A moment later, a sound in the distance tickled Serafina’s ear. It wasn’t sparrow wings, like she’d heard before, but something
earthbound. She tilted her head and listened for it again. It seemed to be coming from down in the valley.
    She stood, faced the sound, and cupped her hands round the back of her ears, a trick she’d learned from mimicking a bat.
    She heard the faint jangle of harnesses and the clip-clop of hooves. Her stomach tightened. It was a strange sound to encounter in the middle of the night. A team of horses pulling a carriage
was making its way up the three-mile-long winding road towards the house. In the daytime, there would be nothing unusual about that. But no one ever came to Biltmore at night. Something was wrong.
Was it a messenger bearing bad news? Had someone died? Was the North going to war with the South again? What calamity had befallen the world?
    Pulling back from the rocky ledge, she hurried down into the valley and made her way through the forest to one of the arched brick bridges where the road crossed over the stream. She watched
from the concealing leaves of the mountain laurel as an old, road-beaten carriage passed by. Most carriages had one or two horses, but this was pulled by four dark brown stallions with powerful,
bulging muscles, their hides glistening with sweat in the moonlight and their nostrils flaring.
    She swallowed hard.
That isn’t a messenger
.
    Braeden had told her that stallions were wild and notoriously difficult – they kicked their handlers and bit people, and especially hated other stallions – but here were four of them
pulling a carriage in unison.
    When she looked at who was driving the carriage, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The carriage bench was empty. The horses were all cantering together in a forceful rhythm, as if
by the rein of a master, but there was no driver to be seen.
    Serafina clenched her teeth. This was all wrong. She could feel it in her core. The carriage was heading straight for Biltmore, where everyone was fast asleep and had no idea it was coming.
    As the carriage rounded a bend and went out of sight, Serafina broke into a run and followed.
    She ran through the forest, tracking the carriage as it travelled down the winding road. The cotton dress Mrs Vanderbilt had given her wasn’t too long, so it was easy to run in, but
keeping pace with the horses was surprisingly difficult. She tore through the forest, leaping over fallen logs and bounding over ferns. She jumped gullies and climbed hills. She took shortcuts,
taking advantage of the road’s meandering path. Her chest began to heave as she pulled in great gulps of air. Despite the trepidation she had felt moments before, the challenge of keeping up
with the horses made her smile and then made her laugh, which made it all the more difficult to breathe when she was trying to run. Leaping and darting, she loved the thrill of the chase.
    Then, all of a sudden, the horses slowed.
    Serafina pulled herself short and hunkered down.
    The horses came to a stop.
    She ducked behind a clump of rhododendrons a stone’s throw from the carriage and concealed herself as she tried to catch her breath.
    Why is the carriage stopping?
    The horses anxiously shifted their hooves, and steam poured from their nostrils.
    Her heart pounded as she watched the carriage.
    The handle of the carriage door turned.
    She crouched low to the ground.
    The carriage door swung slowly open.
    She thought she could see two figures inside, but then there was a roil of darkness like she’d never seen before – a shadow so black and fleeting that it was impossible for even
her
eyes to make it out.
    A tall and sinewy man in a wide-brimmed leather hat and a dark, weather-beaten coat emerged from the carriage. He had long, knotty grey hair and a grey moustache and beard that reminded her of
moss