I crossed the room, curiosity quickening my pace. I pushed open the door and found a bedroom done in matching blue with a wardrobe, vanity and bed all made of heavy dark wood. Very castle-worthy. And the bed? It had curtains. Thick curtains that I could pull around the mattress like a big cocoon. I couldn’t wait to go to sleep tonight.

There were two windows and I glanced outside to see the view. It was of the gardens. In fact, when I looked down, I could see the small lily pond where Harry and I had just been. It made me miss him all the more.

“Did you know that this castle was built at the time of Edward the Confessor?” I asked Viv as I reentered the sitting room.

“It was established then,” Viv said. “But it was nothing like the building we’re in now. It was a motte and bailey castle to start with.”

I thought about pretending to know what she was talking about and just looking it up later, but I knew Viv wouldn’t judge me for not knowing the intricacies of castles. As I had mentioned to Harry, castles were not something we had in America. McMansions, sure, but castles, not so much.

“Explain,” I said.

“A motte is a raised piece of earth atop of which a wooden keep is built,” Andre said as he entered the room. He had his camera in his hand and was fussing with a lens. “And a bailey is an enclosed courtyard that sits at the base of the motte, also constructed out of wood.”

“Not exactly a fortress then,” I said. I thought about the hill where Harry and I had found the door, and realized it must have been the original motte. I wondered if the secret tunnel was original, too.

“No, thus, making for a lot of raiding and pillaging,” Viv said. “Small wonder our ancestors were always at war. It can’t have been that hard to knock over a wooden fence.”

Andre glanced up and raised his camera to his eye. He snapped a series of pictures of Viv. I knew they would be spectacular because Andre was amazing, but also because Viv had that elusive quality of being otherly, as if she wasn’t really a part of this world. She was the only person I’d ever known, aside from Mim, who captivated both men and women equally.

Women wanted to be her and men wanted to date her. And Viv was completely oblivious to it all. She was so very much like Mim in that way. Both of them were artists through and through.

“Where is your room, Andre?” I asked. “Nearby?”

“Right next door,” he said. “My room looks out over the garden like yours.”