“No! It can’t be!” She screamed, “Raphael! I need you! Raphael … !”But there was no one to answer, and there never would be. She would haunt these halls forever, seeking him.For she was the Woman in Black.”

“Why hadn’t the Woman in Black called for Raphael? Mathilde’s idea that she’d stopped looking for him seemed out of keeping with most ghoststories; ghosts didn’t change their behavior, did they?Whatever the reason, Caitlyn was glad of it. Raphael was hers, and she didn’t want to share him. She hated the idea of a long-lost lover roamingthe halls of the castle, looking for him. It meant there was someone else in his life.She was, she realized, jealous.That’s stupid! How can I be jealous of a ghost, over a guy who might not even exist?And yet, there was no other word for what she felt. Since the moment she’d seen Raphael riding in the valley, her heart had claimed him as herKnight of Cups”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t get out of the workshop much. The girls of Rome would have been introuble!”He grinned and waggled his brows. “Do you think so?”She pushed his shoulder. “Naughty boy.”“I could be much naughtier.”Caitlyn sucked in a breath, alarmed and thrilled by the dangerous look in his eyes. She clasped her hands primly in front of her”

“Caitlyn, s’il vous plait!” Madame said, whacking the blackboard with her stick, its end pointing to the irregular verb devoir, “to have to.” Shewanted Caitlyn to conjugate it.Caitlyn felt the class’s attention turn to her, and a clammy sweat broke out in her armpits. Her brain stopped in its tracks, unable to move underthe pressure. A vague sense of having known how to speak French in her dreams tickled at her brain, but the skill was as lost to her in the wakingworld as was Raphael.“Devoir,” Caitlyn croaked. “Er. Je dev? Tu dev?”Madame gaped at her, horrified.Caitlyn shook her head; she knew those words were wrong. “Er … I mean, uh …” And then out of nowhere came, “Egli deve, lei dovrebbe …”These words felt right. He must, she must …Several girls burst into laughter.“What?” Caitlyn demanded.“You’re speaking Italian!” one girl shrieked, and collapsed into hysterical giggles.”

“I will talk to you again in my office, at nine A.M. tomorrow morning, togive you a more thorough orientation to the school and to explain what I will be expecting of you as a scholarship student.” She turned to Greta.“Greta, please see Caitlyn settled in her room, and see that she showers.” With a nod she turned on her heel and left.Caitlyn raised her arm and sneaked a sniff at her armpit. Was Madame Snowe saying she smelled? She caught Greta watching her and loweredher arm. “Just checking,” she said sheepishly.”

“She spent all her free time either drawing the strange things she saw in her dreams, or with her nose inside historical novels. The world held inthe pages of history felt like the real world, and the present day an illusion she had to suffer through until she could escape back into the pages of abook.”

“Some people say that love itself is the most powerful magic,” Caitlyn said.“But would true love make a man go against every principle that had guided his life, and make him break vows he had made to God?” Raphaelshook his head. “Simon brought Eshael here, to the château, but she would not give up her goddess and so he could not marry her. The local menwere frightened of Eshael and her strange ways. There were stories of firelight in the caves that pierce the cliffs beneath the château, and thedancing shadows of local women that Eshael had converted to worship of her goddess.“Simon’s love for Eshael began to fade; he started to see evil in all she did and all she was. The final straw came after Eshael bore him their firstchild, a daughter. When Simon discovered Eshael consecrating their child to her goddess, the last vestiges of his love turned to hatred. In his rage,he killed her.”