Alan eventually returned to the palace with anger on his face and dirt on his clothes. He approached us looking criminally defeated, and there were bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. I was still frozen in place, my mind folding over the threat, trying to analyze it. A valid theory was that the woman in the woods who gave Theo “water” was Emily. She had failed to kill me, but maybe she was warning me that she was preparing to attempt again? That theory was cemented by the fact a maidservant was not only threatening me, but using Emily’s name as well. “We didn’t find any trace of the son of a bitch again,” Alan snapped, and Danika abruptly shushed him, implying a sleeping Theo in the next room. “Sorry I’m frustrated,” Alan sneered, narrowing his eyes at my sister, “have you done anything to help?” “I did, actually,” she argued, and a smirk split her face. I noticed the amusement kissing her features as they spoke, and the secret admiration
I must have stared at the note for twenty minutes. Reading it over and over, scrutinizing the way each letter curved and perfectly arched, the smooth black ink’s trail in the ivory, the capital S positioned like an elegant snake. I was holding my recent paranoia and insanity in my very hands; the threats I had been trying to predict, the thoughts slowly infecting my mind, now placed right on my nightstand. My worries materialized into a real threat. The note in the garden was more of a warning–not a threat. Now, the threat was written bluntly, as if it was a cold slap to the face. I watched the night submit to the dawn, still gripping the note between my fingers, a cool sweat coating my spine. If someone I love was being threatened, I had to do something about it. It was still dark enough to be concealed; the sun had not yet peeked over the horizon. It must have been around 4 a.m. Between night and day, between the unconscious and the conscious. A perfe
I aimed for my body weight to land on his head and make him fall to the ground, but as my knees locked around his neck, he acted as if a mere squirrel attacked him from the trees. The man cried out in surprise but was not affected. I started throwing punches at his neck, not realizing I was yelling, and he ripped me from his neck. His strong hands tossed me off like he was flicking a coin; I went lurching into the dense vegetation. . I fell hard on my back, the landing winding me. A heartbeat passed before I could breathe, and I gasped, sitting up before he could shoot me or attack. “And here I was assuming you’d be happy to see me,” the man said in a familiar voice I had been waiting day and night to hear again. I looked at his face, my heart nearly combusting from out of my ribcage. “Aldrich,” I gasped out, using my hands to aid me in standing up. My legs suddenly felt like sacks of heavy skin devoid of any bones.“Are you mad at me for being
When we finally returned back to the estate, the guards looked happier than I had ever seen them. The servants bowed and the maidservants that had cast me dirty looks were now smiling at me. The busy, bustling morning crowd was suddenly a small celebration banquet. His entourage cheered for him, and the foyer dispersed a narrow path for him. I simply walked behind him, witnessing it all. Alan came bounding down the stairs. His gaze automatically landed on me, out of habit, and his eyes slightly showcased his concern before diverting to Aldrich. Grinning, he approached his friend with one of the hugs that men do when they’re excited to see each other, but still want to appear masculine. “You didn’t alert me of your arrival,” Alan accused lightly, his gaze secretly flitting back to me again. That one gaze screamed: we are in deep shit. “I didn't tell anyone,” Aldrich said, looking around at his people, “it wasn’t much of a victory to celebrate. I would’ve rather
Aldrich “Nothing!” Cathy peeped, propelling over to me before delicately snatching the piece of paper from my hand. I looked at her incredulously. She took the note and buried it deep in the pocket of her trousers, where she sheathed her dagger. “It’s a personal note from my sister,” she said, and the polite buoyancy in her tone indicated she was lying. When she was overly kind, she was lying, as if she was guilty to be doing so. If it actually was a note from her sister, she would be nasty that I was picking it up. I only stared at her, my jaw tightening. The hurt at her surreptitious, nervous behavior settled into my bones. After being away for so long, I predicted a warmer welcome. And especially less secrets between us.“What is going on?” I demanded, raising my tone. She merely raised an eyebrow at me, annoyed at my volume. It was a habit I used as authority over my soldiers, and forgot it was not a tactic for her. “I guess you didn’t hear me right,” she
He did not flinch, but he had the decency to look upset about it. Aldrich stepped back, regaining a couple shreds of his composure after realizing what he was doing. “I’m sorry,” he muttered reluctantly. “I don’t care,” I sniped. “I have the right to know if my son was in danger. I need to know what happens to him!” he insisted, glaring at me. The thought of Theo being in danger seemed to hurl him into a spiral, and he was containing himself very well. Don’t say, don't say it, don’t say it. “I never told you he’s your son.” He froze. His rage froze. His body froze. His face froze. As if he was a volcano icing over, but would erupt even harder once thawed. “We’re still playing this game?” he demanded, his voice acidic and dripping with malice. He was so angry, he didn’t even seem like he was talking to anymore, rather a soldier that disobeyed him or an enemy. “I’m not playing a game,” I said weakly, “I was going to tell you what h
Cathy At first, I didn’t know where I was going. Before I left the estate, my body decided for me. My heart whispered to the muscles in my legs and soon enough, they were weaving through the familiar forest. I had no fear, no desire to stay, just a picture in my mind of the one place I needed to be. I knew every footfall, every groove in every tree along the path, and every fallen trunk or notable pinpoint. Soon, I saw the weeping willow tree, signaling my long awaited arrival. My prison cell had become my solace through the years. I was grateful for more space, more convenience in feeding my son, and the large area he could play without it being interrupted by trees. But I still felt like this was home. I walked through the garden arch, looking at all the flowers that preserveered on their own. Most were dead, but it must have rained more out here. I stared at my spot on the swing that I used to read on, where I had no worry in the world, where the estate
My eyes detached from his wound and reluctantly met his. “I wanted to leave before you could ask me to.” He frowned at me, a mix of confusion and exasperation clouding his features. “Why would I ask you to do that?” I stood up suddenly, wanting to increase the space between us as my confessions plagued the air. The willow watched us wearily. “You do all of this because you think you care for me.” I insisted, waving my arm toward the garden that he made glow. “I know that I care for you,” he corrected me matter-of-factly as he leaned back on his hands, “but go on.” “No, you don’t,” I said, turning my back to him. “Why do you think that?” he demanded with annoyance still in his tone. “That makes no sense, Cathy.” I whirled back to him. “Just listen,” I hissed through gritted teeth, glaring. He stayed silent when he saw my expression. “I believe you when you say you care for me. I see it in your eyes, your word