move to the door, but my lord delays me with his hand raised. “Stand there,” he says. I stand as he bids me, before the open window, and the frosty air comes into the room. “Put out the lights,” my lord says. The men snuff the candles, and the moonlight shines a clear white light into the room, falling on my head and shoulders and illuminating the white of my nightgown. I see Woodville steal a glance at me, a longing glance, and then he quickly looks away. “Melusina and the moon,” my lord says quietly. “Jacquetta,” I remind him. “I am Jacquetta.” He closes his eyes, he is asleep.
