Read Online Twin Passions by Miriam Minger - Free Book Online

Once her sister was through the door, Gwendolyn shut it firmly
behind them. The iron hinges creaked in protest, and they froze in their steps,
listening. But to their relief they heard nothing.
    Gwendolyn swiped away the spider webs draped from the
low, wooden beams of the cellar and stepped over to several large kegs resting
against the far side of the room. She pushed aside one of the empty kegs,
revealing a narrow wooden door that barely reached her waist. She fit the key
into the rusty lock and turned it sharply. The little door swung open and a
strong gust of fresh air surged into the cellar.
    Coughing from the dust, Anora gingerly crawled through
the open door on her hands and knees. When it was her turn, Gwendolyn blew out
her candle, plunging the cellar into pitch-darkness. A chill went down her
spine and she quickly followed on Anora's heels. Once outside, she firmly shut
and locked the little door. Hewn from the same logs as the high walls of the
stronghold, the door fit so snugly that it matched exactly the grain of the
surrounding timber. Invisible to even the keenest eye, only Gwendolyn's familiarity
with the door's location would enable her to find it again.
    Pocketing the key, Gwendolyn stood up and brushed the dirt
from her trousers. "We will have to run to the trees," she whispered.
    Anora nodded. She took her sister's hand and with the
other held up her long tunic and mantle. She felt like giggling as they
sprinted across the barren field, knowing how ridiculous she must look with her
cloak flying in the wind.
    "We did it!" Gwendolyn laughed excitedly when
they reached the cover of the trees. She leaned on a gnarled oak while she
caught her breath.
    "Aye, just like always," Anora agreed
happily. It did feel wonderful to be out in the woods, she thought, breathing
in the brisk morning air. Reflecting on the many times she and Gwendolyn had
managed to sneak away in the past, she was amazed they had never been caught.
    Only their father and a few trusted servants were to
have known about the secret door. But Gwendolyn had found the door years ago
while playing in the cellar, and before long had learned
where her father kept the key. Sneaking out of the stronghold and visiting the
grotto had been the sisters' private game all these years, and it had never
lost its thrill or sense of intrigue. Yet this morning Anora felt a bittersweet
ache, knowing that this would be their last visit to the grotto for a long
time.
    Sensing Anora's thoughts, Gwendolyn suddenly grabbed
her sister's hands and whirled her about in a circle until they were both
laughing so hard they tumbled to the cold ground, exhausted. "There shall
. . . be no more sad . . . thoughts today," she panted, smiling broadly. "Agreed?"
    "Very . . . well, Gwendolyn." Anora gasped,
trying to catch her breath. She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Do
you think we should be on our way?"
    "Aye, Anora, always the practical one,"
agreed Gwendolyn. She stood up and helped her sister to her feet. She could see
that the shadows in the forest were fast receding with the first tentative rays
of light peeking above the horizon. "We will have to hurry if we want to
see the sunrise from the grotto," she said over her shoulder as she set
off through the dense trees along an almost hidden path.
    Scrambling to keep up with Gwendolyn, Anora held her
tunic and mantle above her knees to keep them from snagging in the brambles
that choked the path.
    Fallen leaves and broken twigs crackled under their
feet as they made their way in companionable silence through the woods. An owl,
hooting its final night cry in the distance, was echoed by the melodies of
mourning doves and tiny sparrows. A light layer of frost had fallen during the
night, blanketing the forest in a pearly sheen of white.
    Anora hugged her fur cloak tightly about her, grateful
for its warmth and protection. Rubbing her cheek against the softness of the fur-lined
hood, she smiled. Wulfgar had given her