Ser Turold waited for them at the far back of the estate where the perimeter fence ended and yielded to the dense forests that made up the rest of their land. He had the look of a man who had woken from a restless sleep as he sluggishly bowed to Aleksasha and Matias. "Good morning, your graces."
Aleksasha looked around them, sunlight trickled in warm slivers through full branches of the trees. It smelled of cool mountain air and lush vegetation. She was relieved the air didn't hold the stench of death that they'd come upon the night before. She steeled herself, returning Turold's bow, her arm resting on Matias's. It was warmer than the night before, but summer mornings still carried a chill she hadn't quite grown accustomed to despite her past decade living here. She was thankfully dressed more sensibly for walking outside this morning than she was last night.
"What have you found?" Matias asked, his face unreadable as his cold eyes appraised the captain of the guard and the around around them. The guard who escorted them hastily retreated at a sidelong glance from the duke, seemingly relieved to not be headed in the same direction as them.
Aleksasha quirked a curious brow at the man's retreat.
What horrible event have we happened upon this morning?
Her eyes flicked toward Turold, expectant of his answer to Matias's question. She watched the man as he looked down and turned away from them.
"We found something in the graveyard," Turold commented gravely. Matias's eyes widened and his jaw tightened. She knew that he hadn't visited his parents' graves since his return. "It's better if I show you."
Has someone dared to desecrate their tombs? This is something that might hurt Matt terribly if he sees it. He's strong but to see his parents after so long like that…. Her thoughts jumped to a horrific scene but she pressed her hand against Matias's arm to reassure him of her presence.
Matias nodded and Turold led them down a well maintained trail through an ash grove toward the Volkov family graveyard. Aleksasha couldn't remember how many times she found herself burning incense and praying at her in—laws graves for Matias's safe return. She had hoped to visit them once Matias returned but like many things in the past few days, she was getting her wish but not in the manner in which she intended it.
When Matias was like this it was hard to read his thoughts. He was the very image of the cold duke that the gentry spoke of. She took pride in knowing that he was open and warm to her in private and through their letters. She fell in love with his beautiful soul and longed for the day when the sweet words he shared with her in parchment would be whispered into her ears. It was so close to being what she hoped for but Selene's presence put a distance between them. He showed his affection to her but why had he brought home that woman without mentioning her until his arrival? How could she not expect the worse?
As they reached the gray stone and cold iron fence that separated the graveyard from the rest of the estate, Turold paused. He looked to Aleksasha with downcast eyes. "Duchess, you need not see this, I know you have a gentle heart and have been diligent in your care for the family. I can show the Duke," he offered, trying to give her an out despite knowing he insistence. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and in them she saw his urgent desire for her to turn away.
I'm sorry, Turold.
"I am prepared for the worst, Ser Turold. Please, show us what has deeply unsettled you," she replied calmly.
Turold frowned and bowed his head respectfully. "As you wish, your grace." He lead them through the open gate, which was one sign that something was wrong. Superstition and custom dictated that the gates remain closed even when there were visitors lest the dead roam away.
Aleksasha gasped as she saw a trail of broken pottery and strewn flowers leading down the path towards the older part of the graveyard where the first Volkovs were buried. Matias's gaze darkened but he said nothing as their boots crunched against the old vase shards. Her eyes swept over the rest of the path, saying a soft prayer as they walked past old tombstones where the vases had been taken from.
This isn't what has Turold shaken. This is just the beginning.
She frowned as they continued on, torn rose bushes were scattered along the path but it was more malicious vandalism, not the sort of thing that would prompt the captain of the guard to ask his mistress to avert her gaze.
A sharp, haunting smell wafted to her as the wind shifted. Her eyes widened as the scene unfolded before her detail by terrible detail. It stank of stale blood and charred flesh mixed with the stink of old graves and rot. Stretched across the top of Matias's parents graves was the charred remains of a large wolf impaled on wooden lances. Blood was splattered all over the site, staining the pale stone with brownish red. The earth around the graves was torn in a pattern Aleksasha couldn't discern from where she stood at the end of the path.
Matias opened his mouth with a hiss of breath, his anger barely contained. "Someone dares threaten this house and desecrate my parents final rest with black magic."
Her eyes flicked to tiny dark bodies of ravens impaled upon the gravestones of the former heads of the Volkov estate. She almost swore that their wings flapped weakly as they looked at her with glassy lifeless eyes for help. She covered her mouth as it all sank in. Written across the tombstones in blood and ash was "This is the fate of the wolf entwined with the lancer. Abandon your fruitless ambitions."