Aperture- A Discovery of Doors Book #1

Fluer lives in a world w/o magic. Until discovers ability to open portals to magic world

Chapter One:



In the words of Fluer Undergrove this party would amount to a completely dull and nugatory waste of hours. And she believed it to be so, whole heartedly, as she sat tracing the rim of her glass of half drunken wine and enduring yet another function her eldest sister had orchestrated. She had practically begged her disinterested patriarch weeks prior to appeal her attendance but as usual he would dismiss her efforts and continue in whatever business he was attending to.



Fluer didn’t deem Father an appropriate term to use for someone so negligent to her desires. On occasion, more often than not, she delighted herself in calling him “ Sir Duke Undergrove ,” for sport. Ofcourse, Aurelia wouldn’t approve, which was her usual mannerism. Aurelia was the eldest and so therefore took it upon herself to instruct her lesser younger sisters in the elegant ways of society. This usually included a rather tedious lecture on which spoon to use during dinner parties when served bisque, the correct response to an over persistent suitor, what shade of chiffon best complemented our complexions and many other aimless details that amounted to what a ‘respectable women’ ought to emulate. The following in age, Sonnet, was indeed a Saint. A devout follower of Aurelia and her book of rules and Sir Duke’s pearl of great price. Sonnet beamed everywhere she went and was often found painting in the gardens or bound to Father’s study. Her brilliant golden hair and contagious smile melded well with Aurelia’s warm chestnut locks and soft pink lips. Both girls caught on well to the ways of the world and mingled effortlessly with the gentry.



Fluer however, managed to find her tongue ruling conversations instead of herself and often thought lowly on how she ‘ought to be’. In contrast to her warm sisters, with her midnight hair and rebellious nature, Fluer often found herself entertained with long walks in the nearby wood and found her friends in the pages she turned over. She would never need anyone as long as she saw fit and would be perfectly aimable to enjoy the company of her own mischievous thoughts. That vow was made 4 years prior when Rune, a tradesmen’s son, had been all too willingly to take advantage of the vulnerable heart of 16 and steal something very precious from her. When she later found him in the hall during another frivolous function smothering Salome Rathore’s heavily perfumed neck, she knew she would never allow embarrassment a residency in her heart again. It mattered not now. She had grown in years and layers of skin and no suitor dared to approach her. Not due to lack of beauty for beautiful she certainly was with her sharp features and celeste eyes. No not for lack of handsomeness, but for sake of her reputation and theirs. She would allow their lingering gazes from across ballrooms and dinner tables but that would be all.

Her luck in the way of friends was much the same. She found her female piers to be dull and their minds full of feathers. She did not wish to discuss the color of embroidery thread and simple gossip. She did however enjoy the company of the Manor’s cook, Eowyn. Ewoyn was a stout woman whose laughter warmed even the coldest corners of the Earth and who’s lines told many a story. She had come to the manor from a small hamlet far to the North where rumors of alleged streams of sterling and skies that oil painted stories had stemmed for centuries. Of Course these were fools’ dreams. The real world was teeming with stuffy suits who decided the rules of conduct and something like a daydream but only greyer. In a world so frigid, Ewoyn was a honeyed house roll.

She had taken to Fluer when their mother had passed, noticing how many hours had been spent wandering the garden alone and the absent mind of her Father. Her mother had died in childbirth to Fluer and the blame was left to be assumed by a small girl's confused heart and the cruelty of older sisters. As years passed the two evolved through grief to trust. Because her mother had died very young, Ewoyn had become more of a mother than Fluer had ever known to be true. Grown on tales of moondust and worlds beyond the four corners of her mind. When Fluer had been only seven, she would craft crowns of plum blossoms and search for pixie tracks in the mud. Her sisters ofcourse had found her to be odd and her father had indeed discouraged any ‘make believe’. She was to have high tea not candied violet petals and charmeuse stead starlight silk. Fluer had learned, from a young age, that not all shared her same fascination with Eowyn’s stories and dreams of another world. “ Magic is folly” her Father had claimed and her sisters looked down upon her kinship with a member of the house staff. And yet, Ewoyn had been the one to encourage her interests, inspire desires and to wipe hot tears from the broken face of a 16 year old. Magic or none, Ewoyn’s heart held deeply to Fluer and all that followed her.



And she wished for her now. The party would be bound to last till morning, these things usually did. Guests would be merry and dance until the light of the next morn came peeking through the grand pines lining the manor grounds and every taper candle had burned to its wick.

Sonnet galloped over to Fluer, cheeks flushed with excitement, slightly out of breath.



“ Will you not dance?,” She sang, giggling off a third glass of Ornellaia Bianco.



Not likely. The idea of spinning for hours in the hands of a stranger did not allure interest. In Fact the thought of tripping some eager rich idiot on the freshly chalked ballroom floor sounded much more captivating.



“ I think I’d prefer to watch you make a fool of yourself stepping on Lord Ambroses’ fine leather boots,” I replied, happy to be rid of boredom and hopeful for a chance to elicit a sharp remark.



A sorry scrunch met Sonnet’s nose and she turned her chin up into the expensive air.



“ I’ll have you know Sir Ambrose finds me quite amusing and I happen to agree.” She twirled her tea rose skirts, that silly smile creeping its way back to her perfectly painted face.



Sonnet had been the most agreeable towards Fluer. It was hard for her to be malicious when her nature was of sunshine. A glance of disapproval or a censure was usually given in efforts to imitate Aurelia and reside in her confidence. Yet no amount of true friendship was found between the two.



“ While he may find you amusing, I'm afraid that is not all he seeks to find.”



Infact Ambrose’s gaze was indeed fiercely pinned to the back of Sonnet’s gown as the two sisters conversed. Ambrose was the son of a Duke and he wore it well in his crimson waist coat and finely pressed trousers. He was not much older than Fluer but his appetite for the finer things and his pride had provoked him to seek a prize slightly out of range. Of Course, it mattered not to Sonnet that there remained a gap in age for he was pleasant to look at with his broad shoulders and bronze hair and she rather enjoyed the attention. These types of flings were usually never serious or ended very well.



“ What does it matter what a man dreams of that he will never have? He dances well and compliments my every slight of movement and tonight I wish to smile for hours and hours.” She went on huffing, “Just because you wish to remain sullen and disdain male company does not conclude that I will join you in your misery. You could have any and every handsome Lord in this very room if you liked but instead you bark at your most cherished sister and scorn my dancing!”



Before I could remark on the utter fluff of my sister's mind or Ambrose’s still hungry eyes, Sonnet turned and had swept onto the dance floor again, twirling her lacy skirts and throwing her head back in laughter.



I suppose it didn't make much sense to scold Sonnet, at least she was the master of her own desires tonight.

Aurelia was across the room encased in a deep violet gown. The bodice was lined with purple gemstones and her tulle skirts bellowed out in semblance of the flower itself. Her mahogany hair was piled and pinned in place on top of her head and she donned a small gemmed tiara. She looked regal, surrounded by herds of her female followers, stopping occasionally by tables to thank folk for attending.



I looked on with disgust. If they only knew how perfectly predatory she could be.



Aurelia was every bit as lovely on the outside as she was sadistic from within. Through the grief of their mother she had vowed to scorn and remind Fluer of her blame with every encounter. She had many friends, much in the way of Sonnet, but others followed her mostly out of fear. She demanded respect as she glided through rooms and offered her glinting, perfect smile to those who did what she wanted them to. And yet still, others were drawn to her.



I guess ants still need a queen.



Resigning to the fact that I would find no satisfaction in trying to enjoy what remained of the evening, I set off in search of Eowyn and whatever sticky and delicious creation she would be pulling from the ovens. I wandered around tables and groups of gentry laughing loudly making my way towards the foyer. Weaving around a round gentleman whose cheeks were flushed with wine I smacked into something warm and hard.



These damn drunks.

“ Watch where you’re walking!”

I turned to face Ambrose who’s drink was now adorning his white, crisp undershirt.

A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth.



Now things are interesting.



I had already planned to somehow doom Ambrose to embarrassment in the future but it would seem that fate had thought to humble him first. This was perfect.



“ For how observant you are of my sister’s backside you seem to lack spatial awareness,” I drawled, amused by the red stain consuming half of his shirt.



Ambrose huffed and glared at me clearly shocked by my bluntness and still flustered by the occurrence itself.



“ How dare you speak to me in that way! Who are you to talk so impertinently to the son of a Duke?! If you weren’t such a clod you would have noticed me standing so clearly before you!”



Smiling still, my remark slowly started to sink in and a face of wounded pride flickered slightly with fear.

“ My Father will be so anxious to know of your very strong opinion of me my LORD,” I say, dipping into a low curtsy.



“ I.. . wait!”



I strolled off smiling leaving Ambrose, stained, annoyed and now concerned for his grand standing reputation with Sir Duke Undergrove.









After a long walk through the hall, relishing in Ambroses’ fear lit face and feeling greatly satisfied with myself I finally made my way to the kitchen. Ewoyn would enjoy hearing my tall tales of the evening and I was rather looking forward to eating something that wasn't small, brightly colored and oddly shaped.



Yes, the perfect ending to my victorious night. Eowyn's warm voice and something hot from the bread pan.



I reached for the thick cedar door. As my finger graced the steel handle a small white spark caught at the contact. I retracted my hand and stared at my fingers puzzled.



Interesting .



Deciding to shrug it off I reached for the door again and this time it opened and I stepped through ready to receive Eowyn’s voice. The kitchen was empty and the door that led to the gardens was open. A warm summer breeze filled the small stone room alongside the sounds of crickets and other nightlife. There was no sign of her or my fulfilled expectations of something substantial to eat. My victory suddenly felt a little less exciting without anyone to share it with.



“ I thought I’d find you in here,” a voice sounded. A voice all too familiar and irritating.



I turned to see a young man leaning lazily in the doorway with half a grin on his stubbled face. Rune.



Fine, It would be two morons tonight then.

“ Why are you here?” I demanded haughty, now gliding gracefully into the center of the kitchen and turning up my nose. Maybe I was more related to my two priggish sisters than I cared to admit.



Rune stood a little straighter now easing off the door frame. His mousey hair was tousled and his loose fitting tunic and trousers were wrinkled, probably an unconscious effort due to sleeping in them the night before. Although he was a complete scoundrel and waste of breath, it was those deep mossy eyes and his conniving smile that had first caught my eye when I had accompanied father to town for a tradesmen’s convention 4 years prior.

Whyever he decided to grace me with his presence, I knew better. There was always an angle.



“ Oh come on now. Haven’t you missed me at all Grove?,” he crooned, stalking slowly closer,a wicked smile now blooming on the corners of his mouth.

“ No more than I miss the horses who live in their filth in the stables,” I said passively, allowing no amount of interest to show on my face. He would certainly not break down any walls tonight or dampen my feeling of triumph.



He threw his hands to his chest mimicking a wound to the heart and stumbled back as if haven been shot with an arrow, managing to knock over a clay vase in the process. Typical behavior.

“ Now that just hurts. After all we’ve been through.”



“ If you’ve come to display your theatrics then you can make your final bow to the audience and take your leave now. Whatever you have to say surely is not worth my attention.”



He chuckled deeply, mounting a wooden stool and smiling silly at me. “ Surely you don't disdain our little visits as much as you let on.”

Rune had come to visit on occasion, if you can call it that. Certainly not in the main rooms of the manor. It usually involved a pebble to a window, a surprise visit while I walked in the woods or, like tonight, an ambush in the kitchen. He seldom came here though, knowing full well if Eowyn saw him or the now broken vase she would chase him out with a broomstick. They mostly involved favors. A small loan, a second helping of my dinner slipped through the servants entrance or sometimes simply to antagonize me for sport. As if the betrayal wasn't enough, he always seemed to appear occasionally to remind me. As if it wasn't bad enough that he’d continued to show face he seldom shut his mouth about his latest string of ladies.



“ I certainly do. And I must ask you to get to your point because I’m growing bored. And pick up that vase!” something like frustration coiled inside of me. Why had he come here and on my night of victory? He would always be the face that wounded the vulnerable, and I would always feel vulnerable. I hated that feeling, I hated he made me feel it. He didn’t care. What had happened between us was years ago and had been the foolish wish of a 16 year old girl who thought the world was very different from what it is…cold, practical, guarded.



He stooped off the stool begrudgingly and began picking up the shattered pieces of the vase laying scattered across the floor. The irony was ludicrous.



“ I promise I have pure motives…well mostly pure”, he paused, staring at the black silk dress I wore still dressed from the party, studying every seam and stitch. I fidgeted under his gaze as he continued his plea. Heat rose to my cheeks. He was so incredibly infuriating. How had he managed to make me feel flustered and completely enraged at the same time?



His smile faded into something more remote. “ I’ve come to share with you some recent news. My Father has decided I’m to travel with him. He’s found favor amongst the towns in the far North. There is more demand there…” he trailed off.





Splendid. I shall see less of him then. But as much as I resented the very air he breathed, a miniscule part of me had grown accustomed to his regular visits. I waited for him to continue.



A cloud shadowed his face and he looked up at me, still meddling with a shard of vase in his left hand. “ He’s made it quite clear his expectations of me. Of Course, you know how truly exceptional I am at meeting expectations,” a distant smile was there and gone. An attempt at humor when clearly this was not.



He was stalling. Whatever he came to tell me was assuredly something more important than his usual ‘ social calls’. Just get to your point.



“ Go on,” I said, prompting a response I wasn't certain I wanted to hear.

“ My Father believes that it would be a display of our gratitude,” he drew the word out acidly, “ If I were to take the hand of the Town Master’s daughter…”



My breath hitched ever so slightly, as I stood across from him soaking in the new information.



“ So there, Im to put away my play things and assume my Father’s trade in a town called Dirtfeild and marry some befouled village girl who will probably dice me up and serve me for supper!”

At that I stifled a small laugh.

“ Anyways for what it’s worth and I know you must find this amusing that I'm to be SOLD off into a marriage and my flirtatious endeavors must come to an end, but I am here regardless and after all we…you and I…” He looked down, scuffing one of his leather boots and stirring the dust on the sooty kitchen floor. “ I just thought you’d want to know…”



If I was being truthful, I wasn't certain myself. It served him right. Since he’d come of age in Innswood and even still before, he’d managed quite the reputation. I was only sorry I'd added to the long list of dereliction. That's all I amounted to for him, another notch edged on his game board. He was exhibiting that he actually cared, which was completely and utterly impossible. And yet, something tugged on a fine frayed thread that attached to an echo of something long lost. Something remnant of shared breaths and familiarity. I could seize the opportunity to gain ground or make some snide remark on the fact that he would now be living in a town named DIRT-feild. But nothing came, no venom emerged from my veins to meet my tongue.



What is this sentiment? Why?



For a moment I just stood there trapped by walls and barbed fences, a hurricane of emotions swirling inside me. I was too opaque to say something and too proud to let myself feel it. So I stood there in silence.

My eyes met his. There were remnants of confusion and something like hope residue on his warm features. And yet, still nothing came. I stood in front of the boy who had shattered my heart into pieces of the vase he held and no words came, only the sound of crickets and the wrestling of the wind in the trees.



“Well I don’t expect you to pretend to care or have much sympathy for my state,” He eased off the stool and cautiously stepped closer, closing the gap between us. He smelled like pine and misplaced hope. “ I just came to leave you this.”



He leaned in closely, his lips hovering on the tender skin behind my ear, his breath warmer than the summer night. He brushed a faint kiss, so faint, it was as if it was never there.



What was happening? Why was I allowing this?

Every part of my body with sense told me to step away but I was frozen.



The ghost of his lips lingered on my skin as blood hasented through my veins. He slipped something delicately into my pocket and slowly drew back.



“ Don't forget about me Grove, as much as I know you’d like to.”



And at that he turned and coasted out the door leaving me hot, tongue tied and bewildered.

What the devils had just happened? And why had I just stood there like a moronic, mute statue?



Coming to my senses I immediately felt the presence of the mysterious object he’d slipped into my silk pocket. I reached in and turned over a small twine bracelet in the palm of my hand. Probably something he had found from a market during a tradesmen show or perhaps something his own fingers had constructed. I stared at it and it stared back, small, plain and full of questions I would never have the strength to obtain answers to.





That night I laid in bed gazing vacantly at the thin threaded bracelet and feeling the words on my tongue I never spoke. Whatever they were, whatever they meant, it was too late now.





Chapter Two:

That morning, I had the maids draw me a bath. I desperately needed to soak off last night’s encounter, still clinging to my skin. The warmth embraced me, thawing my stiff muscles and melting the emotions into the fragrant water. Wafts of honey suckle and sea salt greeted my nose. I let it soak into my bones and the sound of the running water drain out the noise of my thoughts. It was a good thing he was leaving. In some ways it would serve as closure to wounds reopened time and time again. I wouldn’t allow it to consume my thoughts or atrophy the stone walls I’d so deliberately constructed guarding my heart. It was better this way.



After a lengthy needed hour of scrubbing, I let Eleanor dress me in a deep plum gown for the day ahead. Her surveying eyes scanned my expression through the reflection of the mirror, assessing every slight of my brow. She was a cold woman, concise and matter of fact. Father had hired her after mother had died and assigned her to me. I suppose it wasn't a surprise he chose the thin, brash women for the job. Perhaps he foresaw my rebellious nature from infancy and deemed Eleanor my warder. And since the age of walking I was to fit into her mold.

The dress was made from a rich velvet, the fabric hugging my waist and accentuating my curvature. The neckline was vee’d revealing a modest amount of cleavage and the fabric draped down from the bodice to my inky slippers. The sleeves were long and made of a sheer, shimmering satin that bellowed and cinched slightly at the wrists. And on my wrist, the left one, I donned the small twine bracelet, against my will and against my senses. I tucked in underneath my sleeve to hide it from Eleanor’s scrutinizing eyes.



She finished cinching the velvet waist and offered nothing more than an approving nod before excusing herself out of the room in long strides. I stared at my reflection in the long floor length mirror. As much as I hated to admit it, Aurelia had been right about this color being complementary to my fair skin. My raven hair had been pinned half up and the leftover loose curls bellowed down my decollete. Yes, this would do.

I debated having breakfast sent up to my rooms. I was sure Sonnet would have heard about the incident with Ambrose and his freshly redecorated undershirt. I was also sure I would hear an earful from her and Aurelia. But it was already late morn and Eowyn would be starting to prepare supper for that evening. I would just have to don my armour this morning for the sake of a buttered biscuit and my growling stomach.

I set off in the direction of the morning room, taking my time through the sunlit halls and fidgeting with the small paupers bracelet on my wrist. Maids came and went carrying fresh sheets and handfuls of silver to polish. I admired their simplicity and could almost admit to jealousy as they whispered in each other's ears and giggled about something only they were privy to. Friendship, a sisterhood even, not by blood but by heart. I guess I should've been grateful that I at least had Eowyn but something innate within me throbbed at an old, tired wound.



I arrived to meet my doom and my breakfast. The french doors to the morning room were slightly ajar and I could hear the familiar voices from within filling the room. I quietly cracked the door further, my hand grazing the door handle, cold to the touch. A small spark nipped at my skin. I jumped slightly, attempting to not drag the attention of the morning conversation to me, my eyes frantically darting from the table to my hand. What was happening? Again? I examined my long fingers, turning them over in the sunlight. Nothing looked amiss. There were no marks or burns, although a slight tingling sensation lingered, snaking its way from my fingertips to my shoulder. The skin was perfectly intact and the small, asterisk birthmark on the tip of my pointer finger was exactly as it had always been. Could it have been a simple coincidence that the same occurrence happened the night before with the door to the kitchen? I shook my arm a bit, attempting to shrug off the pressure still pulsing through my shoulder and stinging my birthmark. I should ignore it, brush it off but my mind was already turning with the stories Ewoyn had shared time and time again. I decided to explore the library after breakfast to see what books had been brought in from overseas on Father’s last shipment. For now, the mystery would be tucked away.



I moved towards the table. Father sat intentionally in his chair, his nose buried in a newspaper, providing non attentive “ mmmhms” and “ahhs” to Sonnet’s rambling. No one had even noticed me slip in. A small mercy I suppose. Aurelia was elegantly poised holding her fine china tea cup and contributing unapproving glances towards the conversation. I took my place at the table and began piling my plate with poached eggs, various fruits and pastries. Aurelia’s codesention shifted its gaze towards me, noticing the amount of food on my plate.



“ Look who finally decided to grace us with her company! You should really eat less, and avoid the pastries. They’ll make you blow up like a balloon, you know. Not to mention the effects on your skin. You don't want to have a moon face now do you?” She spat. As if detecting me for the first time both Sonnet and Father paused their null in void small talk and glanced my way.



It would seem a cloud of condensation had now shadowed our breakfast. Right on time. And as usual I had worn an extra layer of skin resistant to the downpour of spite. Gently now, it's only morning yet… But already my hands were twitching to load ammunition into the revolving chamber of my response.



“ You seem to know everything there is to know Aurelia. Oh how I aspire to obtain your arsenal of helpful advice. Does Father consult you on what stocks to invest in or have you inspect the composition of his pen and ink?,” I said, chewing a large bite of strawberry danish. A dart not a bullet. I atleast would like to finish my breakfast.

Her eyes sharpened with disdain and huffed, turning to Sonnet as if we had not danced this same dance many a time before. “ And what do you make of this caustic response and the 3 pastries stuffed in her large mouth?,” She proposed, dusting an invisible spec off her heavily laced sleeve.



Sonnet looked on with hesitation, glancing between Aurelia and I. I threw her a lazy grin, my mouth still full of food. This pastry was damn good. As if suddenly remembering the incident with Ambrose last night, a vengeful resolve settled in her eyes. “ I think you ought to practice better manners! Does Father know that you practically drowned Lord Ambrose’s fine clothes in wine last night? If you weren't such a klutz I wouldn't be enduring this unbearable embarrassment,” she miffed like a wounded animal. And there it was, the blow I’d been bracing for all morning. I stifled a small laugh over the second pastry now entering my mouth. If they were to make my life as miserable as they pleased then the least I could allow myself was a small amount of fun.



Aurelia’s lips curved into a perfectly cruel smile. “ And look, she finds it amusing. How embarrassing indeed to not possess the ability to conduct yourself amongst the gentry without acting like a complete and utter fool. And you wonder why no noblemen will come within 10 feet of you.” She relished in the words she spat, breathing in the impact they had in the room and the way they sliced through silence.. Fine. It would be war.



I waited to deliver my move. Let her think she’d pinned me. I knew the implications of the information I was about to share and had thought about saving it for a more significant moment but this morning I’d had enough. This morning I didn’t want to lose.“ I wonder if James would agree with that statement.” I said sweetly, glancing at my fingernails. “ He seemed all too eager when he knocked at my door during last week’s Spring Forward celebration. He was practically drooling on my slippers,” a sideways glance in Aurelia’s direction, a hint of a smile dancing on the left side of my mouth. Silence fell at the table.



James Estridsen, son of the wealthiest man in all of Innswood, Charles Estridsen. The Estridens were very influential members of society and contributed large sums to most charity causes, small businesses and political matters. Charles Estriden was in the business of land speculation and therefore was someone Father conducted business with regularly. Between the Undergroves and Estridsens there was a formal and agreed upon understanding that James and Aurelia would be an amiable match. And since that understanding James had been commanded to call upon Aurelia for the past 3 years. Meetings were arranged, functions were attended together and more than the chance of obtaining love Aurelia cherished position and power. These words threatened the foundation of her throne and it shook every so slightly as fear and rage flicked across her face.



Father had now folded his paper and was glaring at me fiercely, having caught the last bit of information I’d spoken. How I’d managed to shift breakfast amongst my family into a warzone in under ten minutes, I wasn't sure. At least it was a distraction from my current thoughts and more than I cared to admit, very, very amusing.

Ice, his features were ice, cold and contemplative. He had not shown a spec of attention to the verbal daggers being thrown across plates of biscuits, fruit and eggs, but now there was mention of reputations at stake, HIS reputation. When he spoke a frigid chill filled the morning room. “ You will meet me in my study, now Fluer.” He quietly rose from the table, an eerie calm settling over his features. Well I had really done it now. I knew that look, I’d felt it strip me bare and shrink me to half my size many times before. And unfortunately any extra layers would not hold against what followed.

Father strode out of the room kicking the manor’s hound with his pointed leather boots on the way out. The poor animal yelped and scurried under the table tucking its tail between its hind legs. Sonnet had paled and stared vacantly down at her breakfast. When I met Aurelia gaze, her eyes smug and vengeful.

“ Enjoy your chat with Father, little pet. And if I find you sniffing around James again, I’ll make sure everyone knows the little bitch you are.”



I knew this conversation would not end well but I had been here before and knew my script and lines to pacify Father’s temper. I stood to follow behind him, tossing a small piece of bacon to the frightened animal under the table, his fear a mirror of my own. He sniffed hesitantly and then indulged, the thankful sound of his tail thumping on the oak floors. Before exiting I turned to look at Aurelia over my shoulder still waiting for my response. “ Perhaps you should obtain a better leash for your cherished Lord. A hungry dog will stray”, I said, masking my angst with a haughty smile and leaving the room before she could retaliate. If I were to start the morning off with Father’s rebuke and a half eaten breakfast, I could sure as hell have the last word.

He was waiting in his wide leather throne, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“ Shut the door,” he barked. My heart threatened to escape my chest.

Thump.

Thump.

I won't ever let him see.

I obeyed, closing the door with my hip and avoiding the black iron knob. The last thing I needed was another strange occurrence with the handle in front of Father.

“Take a seat,” he ordered again and I obliged plopping down into the familiar stiff chair across from his desk. I was surprised my body had not left its imprint after having sat for these conversations in the frequent past in the same hard seat. His eyes met mine, a storm of navy almost black, nothing like my own.



His words sliced through the stiff silence.“ If what you say is truthful then you cannot fathom what is at stake here! I have been working towards this union for years. A lot of business matters you wouldn’t comprehend also rely on the success of it. I won't allow my youngest and most foolish, it would seem, daughter batting her eyelashes and derailing the entire deal due to wounded pride,” He huffed, heat rising and staining his rough cheeks pink.

“ Father, you have to understand-”

But he was not finished. There was a gleam in his eyes this time that had silenced my plea for understanding.

He continued on, his brow furrowing further creating deeper lines that scattered shadows across his despotic face. Fear, numbing and wet lapped at the back of my neck. That face. His voice. Places on my wrists and cheek tingled in remembrance of where bruises had blossomed before. I shuttered. If this is what a father was, If this is what a father did, being a daughter took on a very different meaning. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.



He strode towards me from behind his desk, fury dancing in his eyes. The mere fact that I had opened my mouth to contradict, to say anything for that matter other than bow my head in submissive obedience. He was close to my face now, his hot breath hitting me like a brick, thickly laced with tobacco smoke. Taking my face in his hand he whipped it toward him so that I met his vile gaze. His calloused fingers burrowed into the sides of my cheeks pressing harder, pain erupting where my teeth were tightly pressed against the soft tissue.

Breath.

Breath.

I won't let him see.

He spoke with deathly silence, the words intimate and malignant.



“I will remind you that this issue is only an addition to the lengthy list of misconduct you continue to contribute to this family’s name. I am quiet at my leisure, Fluer. This is a warning of final degree. Should you choose to interfere again or manage to smear your disgrace in some other mannerism, you will find I will not be so merciful next time.”



He released me, the impact yanking my neck down.The places where his fingers had gripped my skin still throbbing. They would surely leave marks.



Of Course this would add to my horrific reputation to disgrace this family. Father would never hear of what actually transpired. This situation with James had been null in void to begin with. I had caught him before on countless occasions over the years gazing in my direction, studying the way I moved from room to room or brought a cup of tea to my lips. Suddenly, he was conveniently bumping into me everywhere I went and attempting at small talk. I never thought a thing of it, except for the great deal of satisfaction I felt to have a leg up on Aurelia. It wasn’t that James wasn't pleasing to look at or that he lacked proper graces. He was a fine gentleman but completely and utterly boring. An identical square cut from the same cloth of all the other stuffy noblemen. His manners and kind face were aimable attributes but the man had never had an original thought in his entire existence. That was all it amounted to for a very long time until last week at the Spring Forward celebration when he’d cracked and showed an inappropriate display of his affections towards me. I had decided to leave the party early, per usual, when James had slipped away from Aurelia’s claws and hoards of followers to follow me to my rooms. It had been an enormous surprise when he’d tripped over himself confessing his deep feelings for me and practically tried to force himself into my rooms, pleading with me to end his misery. I had been too shocked for words and had pushed him into the hall and abruptly closed the door. I’d only seen him once since the incident and he’d been seated at a window near Aurelia, absentmindedly listening to her ramble on and staring out at the rain falling. I suppose if I was that boring I would desire something interesting and exciting to happen to me. And I presumed that's what I was, something different, interesting and exciting. But again, Father would never accept it. That his business partner and trusted friend’s son had tried to force himself on his youngest daughter. No, the blame would fall to me and any argument of it would not end well.

So, I accepted the words that affirmed his view of me. I took them and added them to the pile and said “ I understand, it won't happen again Father.”

This seemed to pacify him somewhat, my resignation, my submission. He sat again and leaned back relaxing into his chair still staring intently.

“ Very well then. Your expectations have been set for what lies in your future should you cross another line. You are dismissed.” He waved his hand at me, the same hand that had clasped my face, and turned his attention to the paperwork littering his desk in neat little stacks.

I rose from my chair, rage seething behind my teeth. I clenched my fists hard, knuckles turning white from lack of blood flow and turned to leave his study. He had berated me and then dismissed me like the whimpering dog under the table. My stomach knotted and I suddenly felt hot and cold all over. I needed air. I needed to get out and far away from this miserable house and unbearable assembly of inhumane people I was to call ‘family.’ I hastened my pace through the halls pushing past Aurelia and Sonnet lingering to witness my defeated face. I gave them no such satisfaction.

“I’ll be sure to have Eleanor fashion you a violet collar to go with that dress. I do think it would be quite the accessory,” Aurelia called after me, turning to Sonnet and sickering.



I was too hot, too frenzied to care. I grabbed my cloak and wrapped it around myself, barreling out the back door and into the woods. The air was hot and sticky and clouds had begun to cover the sky. So what. Let it rain. Let it soak this expensive velvet gown and cake black mud on my new slippers. Let it wipe away the smell of that house and those memories into the street drains. Thunder rumbled overhead, bouncing from cloud to cloud and crackling in between. I kept on, forcing my throbbing legs forward.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

I wasn't sure where I was going and I didnt care, I just knew with each step I took I was farther away from that wicked smile and the horrid smell of tobacco smoke still clinging to my bones. My ear rang and burned with his words, with their words. Heavy clouds shadowed the forest making the air dark and damp. My breathing turned raspy as rain began to fall, the cool water hitting my hot skin and soaking into my clothes. A blur- everything was a blur. Somehow I was now running and the tears began to fall with the rain. Harder and faster I ran until my legs were shaking and my lungs were screaming for air.

Finally, I halted, catching my breath in between shaking sobs. Out here there was no one to see the tears, the vulnerability, just the sound of the rain on the trees above and the rapid thrum of my heart beating. Falling to the mossy floor and bracing myself against an old oak, I pressed my back hard into the rough bark and tilted my head back into the downpour. The tears would stop as I had willed them. They would submit to me.

Bitterness caged grief and then knocked. I opened the door willingly allowing it to wash over and consume me. After years of reprimand, lies and tears. After carrying the weight of guilt and shame for the death of a mother I never knew , I made a vow to the sky, to the trees, to anything listening and to myself. I would never again be frail or penetrable. And I was done denying myself. If they thought I was rebellious, I would be mutinous. If they thought I was ill-mannered, I would be vile. And if they disdained my temper, I would become utterly merciless.

Something cruel and innate within me cracked an eye open and yawned. I tasted the salt from my tear stained cheeks as a smile, a promise, an incredibly delicious vow curled on the corners of my mouth. I was going to enjoy this very much.





Trudging through what was now mostly mud stead of grass, I contemplated all the many exciting and heinous ways I was going to stay true to my pledge. Eleanor was going to have a fit when she beheld my mud caked shoes and soaked dress. Maybe I cared a little bit, but only due to the chill now racking through my body. It was dusk when I arrived back on the manor grounds and I decided to sneak in through the servants entrance to avoid any company father had invited for dinner. The hearth was going and Ewoynn was frantically darting from every corner of the room barking orders at the staff carrying up steaming trays of delicious food. When she saw me she stopped dead in her tracks taking in my alarming appearance. I was certain I was quite a sight to behold. My hair had fallen from its pins and was slick to my face with rain water. The kohl decorating my eyes had run down my cheeks and I was thoroughly caked in mud. I smiled sheepishly.



“ Good Heavens Fleur, how in gods name did you end up like that?,” She said, cocking her head to the side and taking in my soiled clothes. “ I hope you don't intend on tracking all that mud through my kitchen during dinner hour!”



I laughed softly under my breath, bending down to remove my soggy slippers and set them on the stone steps just outside the door. The servants still lingering for orders side eyed the mess I was but a sharp glance for Ewoynn had them quickly grabbing something to fill the hands with and retreating up the stairs.

“ I thought I’d enjoy a walk in the forest but it appears the rain had other plans for me,” I replied, attempting to ring out a lock of my limp hair.

“ Well you’d better change out of those clothes and have a warm soak. It’ll do you no good to be catchin’ colds,” she scolded, shaking a plump finger at me. “ Go on and get to your rooms now, I'll have Cynthia bring you up your supper! Take this in the meantime,” she said, tossing me an apple. I caught the fruit with both hands.



I stifled a thankful nod, padding my way through the kitchen and into the hall barefoot. The marble floors chilled the souls of my feet and sent a shiver over my body. Revenge could wait for dry clothes. Just as I was rounding the corner, I barely missed smacking dead into the man now in front of me. The fright had sent the apple from my hands falling to the floor and myself almost with it.



“ My deepest apologies, I did not see you there. Please forgive me,” said a smooth male voice.

I fumbled over myself to grab the rolling apple. I was cold, wet and now annoyed. Huffing I replied, “ Well i'm certainly not eating that anymore, I guess I have you to thank for tha-”



I looked up to behold the most extraordinary face I’d ever seen. Eyes the color of frost rimmed with smoke beheld mine, complex, intriguing and…different. They were paired with sharp cheekbones and an even more honed jaw. Inky waves of hair shadowed his secretive face and an amused smile now dawned his lips, teeth a perfect row of pearls. There was something so peculiar about him. He was pale, almost grey and It was like the shadows clung to him instead of him casting a shadow. Wearing a black freshly pressed suit, a walking cane in his left hand, he looked like a long limbed arachnid lazing in its web.



Oh Gods. I had definitely been staring and was now suddenly very aware of my appearance. A flush of embarrassment bloomed on my neck and I fidgeted nervously with the wet hemline of my gown. I looked like a mop, maybe even worse. A wilted, soggy mess.



“ My regrets for your fright and for the unfortunate fate of the fruit.”

He reached a lanky arm towards the apple and scooped it up, presenting it to me. The apple was a singular drop of crimson atop a blanket of snow, his long fingers enveloping around it.



“ I- Thank you. I don't normally look so- forget it,” I stuttered, taking the apple from his hand.

The side of my palm graced his finger tips, immediately setting my birthmark a blaze and live. Our eyes met and again I was lost in a storm of coal and ice. I pulled back my hand hastily, flexing my fingers at the strange buzz pulsing from my pointer finger. It was the same sensation as when I’d touch the door nobs and now somehow this stranger had triggered a similar response. Who was this man? He couldn’t have been older than Aurelia and yet something about his mannerisms suggested he’d lived to tell many a story.



“ Miss Fluer Undergrove, I presume,” he said richly. There was amusement dancing in his eyes, probably due to the ungodly state I was in.



“ Yes, that is my na-, how did you know?.” The intrigue from this individual was almost intoxicating and the scent of enchantment he gave off had my blood sparkling.



“ I am here as a guest of the Duke’s for tonight’s dinner. He had mentioned he possessed three daughters but I was only introduced to two. I made the assumption you were his third,” the stranger explained.



Daughter? Ha! Hardly. But in my state, this is exactly the type of situation that would have Father in another frenzy. So I decided to seize the opportunity. I puffed my chest and put on my best swagger.



“ Well, you presumed right. Although, daughter would be a gross exaggeration I think. The man is more fond of his jade paperweight than me. But how can you blame him alway busy, busy. Does leave a great deal of unsupervised time unaccounted for, though. Which I’m always sure to put to good use,” I replied, flashing a taunting show of teeth.



A deep chuckle came from the stranger. At Least this man, whoever he was, found me a bit amusing.



“ Well Miss Undergrove,” he crooned, taking my hand in his, “ It’s my greatest pleasure to meet you. I hope our paths will cross again.” And at that he kissed the top of my hand elegantly. An icy chill stung where his lips met my skin and froze me in place. Something was definitely abnormal about this person.



Doing my absolute best to mask my curiosity I replied “ Do tell my Father that his beloved youngest will be dining in her own quarters tonight. Oh, and don't worry about hiding the part about my appearance. I do think I’ll enjoy picturing the faces he will make when he learns of my soaked dress and muddy slippers. Do feel free to embellish the story a little if you like.”



The stranger laughed again softly, willing to play my little game. “ As you will it my dear,” he said bowing deeply and taking his leave down the hall. I paused long enough to watch the skeletal figure round the corner to the dinning hall and disappear.



In his wake, the humming in my veins ceased. The hallway felt hollow. Oh this was very interesting indeed. And he was definitely not Father’s usual sort of company. My mind was racing with various possibilities, curiosity running its course. I decided I would sneak down tonight when the house was asleep and check the leger that kept the names of the guests attending each gallering. Surely his name would be in there. Somehow he was tethered to anomaly occurrences with the door handles. I needed to gain more knowledge on this and see if I could piece together what was triggering the reaction and why my finger had burned so fiercely each time. Perhaps the shipment would have arrived with new books and perhaps there would be something there that could offer explanation to this mystery.



After finally releasing myself from the wet cage of my gown and scrubbing off the dried dirt from my limbs, I dressed in one of my various silk nightgowns. It was pointless to possess such elaborate undergarments, my bed never kept company, but a miniscule part of me enjoyed the finer things. Wearing silk and lace to sleep was sure to encourage enchanting dreams and I rather think If I were to die in my sleep that whoever found me would marvel at my beauty.

Dinner would surely be over now and all the guests would have departed. Occasionally Father would invite a select few to join him in the cigar room but after hearing of my disheveled state from my new, odd acquaintance, I was sure he’d decide to turn in for the night. I flopped backwards on the plush down comforter, my hair an ebony crown sprawled behind me. It would be too early yet to try and steal away to acquire the ledger and exhaustion was gnawing relentlessly at my tired muscles and heavy lids. Once the adrenalin had left my body, I’d realize how fatigued I’d become. With a full belly and clean skin it was an effort to keep myself awake.

Maybe just for a little while.

My eyes slowly fell and the only noise in the room was the large grandfather was announcing the seconds passing.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.



The stranger’s face was close to mine, his breath a cold chill on my neck. His long pointer finger traced a singular line down my throat and stopped at my heart. A wicked smile took over his lips revealing two deathly sharp canines. I could feel the intenses heaviness of his gaze and the needle point frost trailing from his finger penetrating my chest. The pressure was consuming, freezing the marrow of my bones. Surely my ribs would shatter and break but my body was frozen, eyes locked on his, unable to move an inch. Silver slate stared into my soul.



“ This will be the key, dearest,” his voice barely audible, an icey whisper.

The whisper echoed off the walls, echoed inside my skull, the reverb shuddering through the very fragments of my soul.



“ The key.” The voice was distorted and sinister.

“ THE KEY!” it called again louder.

I was now drowning, flailing in icey black sludge. Horrifying, the black water was filling my lungs and vision, devouring me. I couldnt breath, couldn't think.



Tick. Tick. Tick.



I awoke violently jolting from sleep and rasping for air. Hands clasped to my throat, I could breathe, I could breath. I was shaking like a leaf, slick with sweat. What in the rutting hell had just happened? Somehow, I must’ve drifted off somewhere in between planning my route to the ledger and trying to piece together any clues.



A dream, just a dream. It had felt so real. I could still feel the crushing weight of black ice filling my lungs. A shiver snaked over my body. And what had the stranger whispered? ‘ This is the Key.’ What key? Where? What did it unlock? And that voice, that menacing, foul voice. It had almost been a separate entity itself, like it belonged to something that hid in the back corners of people’s minds. To give it a thought or name would allow it power, so they’d blame it on the wind whispering or the rustling of trees. My head was pounding, spinning, the dream still desperately clinging to my skin.



A chill had nestled in the spaces of my silk garment that wasn’t still sticking to my skin. There were only embers in the hearth now. How long had I slept? The grandfather clock chimed, its old, muted sound filling the room. It was at least two in the morning. Well, no one would be trasping the manor at this hour. I needed answers. This would be as good a time as any and I certainly wasn't going to attempt at going back to sleep. I rolled off the bed and into my slippers, grabbing my robe. I would start with the ledger. Learn who this man was and why he’d attended dinner. Then, I would search the library high and low and hope to glean any additional information.



Tightly wrapped in my robes I paused to first splash cold water on my face to shake the surviving remnants of the nightmare off. The water dripped from my face and plinked into the basin as I pulled my tangled hair from back. Feeling less shaken, I hastened quietly from my rooms and through the unlit halls, my slipper scuffing softly on the marble below. Still, the manor was still, undisturbed as if even the wall themselves slumbered. It would appear nightmares only clung to the west wing of the house and hovered in my quarters.The rest of the house was as silent as the grave.

I crept along following my strong conviction for understanding all the way to the butler’s study. The door was left ajar. It was more of a broom closet really, small and stuffy. It would appear the majority of the luxurious square footage belonged to the upstairs. I wasn’t sure how Mr. Barnaby functioned in this dusty hole.

The ledger would be locked in the center drawer of the mahogany desk stuffed in the left corner of the room. Eowyn had let slip on one occasion that the Duke possessed two legers of kept company. One for business and regular gatherings and another for more delicate interactions. What Ewoyn had meant in the way of 'delicate’ I had always assumed were the women who warmed his bed, but now I wondered if it also contained a list of more lawless characters. I’d seen the daily roster many times but had never had the chance of setting eyes on the other. I would have to search them both, but first…the key.

According the kitchen staff, Mr. Barnaby had a love for stronger drink, and at times had left the key lying around instead of in its designated home. My only hope would be in his fourth glass of bourbon and it appeared someone had heard my prayer as I spied an empty decanter tipped over on the desktop.



Good grief. The man must be miserable to drink so much of the vile substance.



But tonight was not about the fate of Mr. Barnaby’s liver. I struck a match and lit the waxy taper candles atop a dusty bookshelf. Scanning the dim lit room my eyes straining to see, alas I spotted the rusty bell metal key nestled between a pile of scribbled notes and a crystal ashtray. Snatching the key and swiftly dropping to my knees behind the desk, I opened the middle drawer containing the ledger. The brown leather book stared up at me and I removed it from the drawer, beginning to flip through the tea stained pages. I stopped and pinned a finger on the current date, running it down the list of names.



Charles Etridsen, Lady Estridsen, Lord Sebastion Maltif, Lady Camile Archibald, Sir….Blah, blah, blah….nothing.



There was nothing, no names of any guest that had not attended a gathering or dinner countless times past. Even as my finger passed names I did not recognize there was no tingle or hint that I had found the identity of the mysterious guest. It would surely be in Father’s black book then. I searched the drawer again…nothing, except- the bottom of the drawer lifted ever so slightly. As I lifted the thin wood an entirely hidden compartment was now revealed to me. And to my greatest satisfaction a small crimson book lay in wait to be discovered.



It was locked. A black steel locket bound the pages within. I cradled the book in both hands assessing the keyhole. The key to these secrets would not just be lying around at random in this mouse hole of an office. Father would've made sure its hiding place would not be found so easily. I turned over the small locket with my fingers. As if in response, a heavy itchiness settled in my pointer finger. I knew. The information I desired would be found in these pages. It was almost as if it desired to be found. I needed that damn key.



I turned and dug in the drawer once more searching for any clues of its whereabouts. Pushing aside pens and crumpled parchment, my wrist twinged with pinpoint pain. I jumped slightly, pulling back and assessing the cause of pain. It appeared I had brushed against a letter opener and there was now a small cut dawning my skin. Burgundy welled on the line of demarcation and dripped into the drawer below.



Shit. Someone would definitely know now that I had been down here pillaging through private information. I covered my burning wrist hastily with my sleeve and assessed where the mess had fallen. The sound of metal clicked softly and-



Crimson stained crimson. My blood had fallen on the ledger and with it the steel locket.

























Chapter Three:







My thoughts froze and my body with it. There were no words for this.



There it was, the lock, open and obedient to reveal the pages it wardered.



How- How was this even humanly possible? What was happeni-



I pushed back from the drawer at once clutching my wrist. Shock- complete and utter shock coated my body like a thick layer of margarine. I couldn't think straight. My head was spinning with a million and one possibilities trying to rationalize the completely unexplainable reality before me. Reality, this didn't feel like reality.



I must be still trapped in a nightmare. This is not real, it can't be real.



I was shaking now. I’d always believed there were other forces out there in the world. I’d practically been raised on stories of what the wind whispered to those who listened and had watched every night to try and catch a glimpse of a pixie dancing amongst the fireflies, but this-

This was something else entirely. It shifted the very fragments of my physical existence, a human existence.



Breath. Breath.



I inhaled deeply attempting to calm the tinge of fright sparse through my nerves. Another long shaky breath in. Cautiously, I pulled back the sleeve of my robe to view my marred wrist. The blood had dried around the incision and the color….



The red blood that flowed in my veins had turned a deep cobalt blue. I hastened back to the drawer and sure enough the same inky blue stained the small red ledger. A singular dark splatter against an ocean of velvety fabric. I stared fearfully at the stain. The small circle of color that changed forever the ways in which I’d view the world around me. If this was possible, what else was? What other hopes or dangers were out there laying in wait to be discovered? In a matter of moments the four confining corners of my life had been completely demolished to rubble. I’d been reduced to skin and bones, a singular spec in an open field that stretched for eternity. Vulnerable, Ignorant and now afraid.



Everything held question now. I’d been surrounded by a false sense of safety, and for how many years? The old oak floorboards beneath me began to groan, as I wobbled slightly.



What did all of this mean? The doors, the locks, the blood, the blue….so many questions so few answers.



Again the wood beneath my feet shook and I tilted faintly with it. Specs of black began to cloud my vision. I held the questions under my tongue and let it melt into my belly, turning sour. Nausea tore relentlessly at my gut.



I was going to be sick, violently sick.



The world around me slowed and the information I swallowed rose in my throat. I threw myself at the small paper waste bin, scraping my bare knees against the hardwood and heaved with conviction. Feverish and trembling I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. The metallic smell of blood from my wrist invaded my nose. The stench triggered another round of vomiting.



Trembling, I pushed the waist bin from me and leaned my back against the bookshelf behind me. Too fatigued to move and too frightened to rest, I sat hugging my knees and trying to process my thoughts.



“ Okay, so somehow there is some force that is wanting me to open things,” I began, rasping out loud. “ And it appears my blood is necessary for things to become unlocked.”



I shook my head and stared at my wrist. “ I sound completely mad.”



I needed sleep. My mind and physical being had taken a well rounded beating and I was in no state to accomplish any more successful snooping. At any rate, it was probably close to four o'clock now and the morning staff would be stirring about the manor soon. Bracing myself on the desk I pulled myself to my feet, still a tad wobbly. Thankfully the nausea had somewhat subsided.



I would need to hide any evidence of my presence down here if I ever hoped to come back and finished what I’d started to unravel. I would need to dump the waste bin now full of my dinner, but how would I hide the blue stain of my blood dawning on the Duke’s private ledger? I hastily grabbed the book. Licking my thumb I attempted to rub the stain out of the fabric cover. It only smeared more. As I brought my thumb to my mouth again a strange taste met my taste buds and danced on my tongue. It didn’t taste metallic like I assumed blood would but instead…sweet. My taste had betrayed my sense of smell and the smudge would still not come out.



I decided on an alternative plan. It was dark enough and the right shade of blue to pass as an ink stain. So I set the stage, dipping a quill and dripping a similar mark next to mine to make it appear that the marks were a simple mess of clumsy penmanship. Whether Mr. Barnaby denied the mess; it mattered not for several pairs of eyes had witnessed his drinking problem. It would be my surprise if the man himself did not accept the state of the book as his own mistake. Embarrassment of not remembering the night before would be enough insurance to cover any suspicion of what truly transpired.



After staging the quill next to the leger, I closed the hidden compartment and locked the middle drawer. Carefully I placed everything where I had found it, including the large rusty key to the drawer. No one would suspect what had completely altered my world just moments ago. After cleaning the waste bin I carefully set the door ajar as before with my hip and left the crime scene with no crumb trail.



That night, I took a tonic made from lemon balm and chamomile to aid sleep. It was wishful thinking to hope I would receive any at all but I desperately desired to avoid another visit from the stranger in my dreams or relive any horrifying event from tonight. My wrist was cleaned and bound to avoid infection and tucked underneath my robes which I refused to remove. I already felt wholly and utterly exposed so removing another layer, relevant or not, held more weight than it should have.



Wrapping my arms tightly round my knees I granted my thoughts permission to drift to the dusty undisturbed corners of my mind and also rest. The tonic now successfully coming to its full effect, I allowed sleep to pull me away into a still heavy darkness.











CRASH!



I forcefully jolted from my hazy sleep, my hand instinctively flying to cover my wrist.



“ Shit Grove, you’ve looked better.”



I whipped my head to see a lazy Rune leisurely perched upon my windowsill and with him a pile of books I'd collected now arrayed on the floor.



A loud exasperated groan made its way from my throat and I threw myself once more under the large down comforter, its plush covering a fortress from whatever idiocy I was about to endure. The weight of the tonic still heavily leaned on my body. Moving my leaden limbs felt like dragging them through thick syrup.



“ Why are you here?,” I bemoaned, my voice muffled under all the layers of bedding. “ I thought you were supposed to be gone by now.”



The defensive coverings were ripped briskly from me and an amused face appeared hovering over mine. God, he was insufferable.



The chill morning air made its way from the open window and crept beneath my robes. I tossed him a fierce glare through the tangled mess of hair covering my face.



“ Not yet, pet. As it turns out, our trip was delayed due to Father's current business in town. So to my delight, maybe not so much yours, I won’t be leaving Innswood until late Fall,” he purred looking down at me and flashing a perfect, practiced grin.



I sat up, grumbling and wrapping my robes tighter around me. With everything else going on the last thing I needed was Rune putting his sticky hands in the middle of it all. If he was here till the Fall and now somehow in my bedroom, God only knew the puckish plans he had in mind to torment me.



“ I will be sure to ask God what hellish actions I committed that brought on this form of punishment,” I grumbled groggily through a yawn.



He plopped down beside me and sprawled back on the bed chuckling softly at my response. My back was turned to him, the chill nipping at my bare legs dangling off the mattress.



“ I should like to think my presence is an answer to your prayers but I know better than to wake you up this early and expect any niceties. You were sleeping like the dead! Eventful night?” he hummed, speaking up to the vaulted ceilings and tossing a circular paper weight in one hand.



“ Something like that,” I cringed to myself, recalling the fierce rounds of vomiting in the waste bin. Oh God, my wrist. Rats, both of them. Let alone the mysterious bandage and blue color seeping through, I hadn't removed the small twine bracelet he’d given me dawning the other. I would never let him see or I wouldn't hear the end of it. I hastily pulled at my other sleeve before he could spot it, attempting to not draw his attention off himself and his ridiculously enormous ego.



“ Well do tell,” he ordered. “ It’s been rather uneventful as of late on the western side of this rutting island! I could do with a bit of excitement.”



I twisted to face him, a smug response forming in my mind.

“ What? You mean you’ve happened to run through every somewhat decent looking woman on this island? It must be such a trifle to endure,” I chimed, a sleepy scrunch of a grin growing wider on the corners of my mouth.



He sat up now with an impish expression, eager to take the bait.

“ A poor attempt at flattery, Grove. Maybe compliment me next time on the way my eyes sparkle or my superior ability to dance.”



At that, a laugh heaved and released from my lungs. The dense dread from the previous night lifted slightly making it easier to breathe.

I replied with a pointed stare, “ Your eyes make you incredibly obvious and you waltz like a drunken lord in a corset, all grace is lost to your two enormous left feet.”



He returned my laughter with a soft simper and rolled to his feet. “ I may have slightly embellished my abilities to waltz,” he admitted, swinging playfully with one arm clutching the tall bedpost.



He certainly had. Infact Rune’s cunning nature could convince just about anyone to give him anything he desired but the illusion broke when the occasion called for a dance. I supposed it was God’s way of humbling a man who presumed to own the world.



“ Oh but come on! What have you been doing with your miserable life aside from missing me tirelessly?”



He really did think the stars and moon revolved around him!



I strategically thought through my reply. Revealing too many details to anyone yet would lead to endless questions of things I had no answers to yet myself.



“ Nothing out of the usual sort,” I began, “ Of Course you know I’ve made it my personal mission to punish Sir Duke for his crimes against my happiness. So not much has changed since your last obnoxious ambush….”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell him about the stranger I’d met but I wasn't sure Rune was to be trusted with the information. Although his father did know quite a lot of town folk and would have certainly taken note of the odd character. I decided it worth the risk.



“ Although…” I drew out the words to capture his attention, “ I did however run into the most peculiar man last night during dinner hours. Perhaps you can assist me in discovering his identity.”





Rune was now picking at my breakfast trey lying on the table near the foot of the bed. I hadn't even stirred when Cynthia must’ve brought it up. He certainly wasn't joking about my sleep being like the grave.



Popping a rosy grape into his mouth he contemplated my reply. “ Well, this is very interesting indeed. What did this sort of gentleman look like? Or was he even a gentleman? You should know I don't take kindly to competition,” he jested, eyes flaming with mischief.



“ Not all of us possess your kind of stamina, Rune” I huffed, rolling my eyes. “ Although he was rather pleasing to look at, in an odd sort of way. His hair was a similar shade to mine, only a tad darker, more shadowy if you will. And those eyes, I’ve never witnessed a pair so complex and intriguing. He wore a crisp black suit and used a walking cane, too.”



He moved to lounge in one of the elaborate embroidered arm chairs, taking a torn piece of pastry with him. “ Perhaps you have a long lost cousin,” he mused, “ Although I find it rather tiresome that I must make the effort to dress in black finery for you to compliment the ‘complexity’ of my eyes.”



Agitated, I moved from my perch on the bed to the armchair across from him, huffing as I sat.

“ Will you kindly pay attention to the matter at hand and stop fluffing your feathers! There was something peculiar about this man, I’m telling you! Definitely not Father’s usual sort of company. I suspect him to be some sort of unlawful fellow. Although I can’t determine what type of dealings he would conduct with him that he already does not possess himself or receive from some other nefarious vendor.”



He was idly staring at the floor, chewing a mouthful of danish.



I knew what card I would have to play if I truly wished for Rune’s compliance on asking his Father. So I crossed my legs as elegantly as I could in a robe and put on my best pout.



“ Would you please consider a favor for me?” I said looking up at him with the eyes of a doe.



He turned, noticing my posture and tone and grinned wickedly.



“ Ask your Father for me!” I pleaded. “Give him the same description that I told you! He’s acquainted with so many towns folk. He’s sure to know him or have conversed with someone who might’ve seen him.”



He paused to consider, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees he replied,

“ What’s in it for me?”



Ofcourse.

I shouldn't be surprised there had to be a motive for him to even consider helping me. Very well, I would give him motivation.



“ Well, you said it yourself, you've been doomed to boredom. Consider this a mystery to be solved. Plus, as agonizing as it will be for me, we’ll be spending a great deal of time together if we’re to get to the bottom of this.”



It pained me to say it but too much was at stake here. Rune wasn’t privy to what else hung on the discovery of this man, what I had left to discover about myself and this strange ‘ability’ I possessed. It was like balancing an entire empire on a single toothpick- too much depended on something too fragile. But my options were few at the present moment and I was desperate for answers, just something that would make sense of it all.



“ These are temping terms from a beautiful woman,” he replied like a child eager for candy.



The word panged a painful cord through my chest. ‘Beautiful’. He was definitely playing games too. I refused to let old wounds interfere with what was at hand. I would have to ally myself with the enemy for the greater good.



“ So then do we have an accord?” I prompted, willing my emotions to not leak into my expression.



“ I accept your terms madam, wholeheartedly. Although, I hope you aren’t relying on my Father’s popularity as your only source of gaining clues on this mysterious figure.”



The ledger. I would need to steal it and finish what I’d started, even though the thought of entering that stuffy office again had a trace of nausea racing back through my gut.



“ No,” I claimed, “ There is a book. A small velvet one with names and contacts of persons the Duke conducts interactions with that he wishes to remain unseen by other eyes. I attempted to procure it last night but I was… interrupted.”



“ Well then, detective Grove, we must retrieve this book of secrets and explore its contents,” He replied, standing with a dramatic bearing.



“ For once we agree. Meet me by the servants entrance at midnight. The staff will have gone to bed and we’ll be free to rummage through the evidence,” I ordered, my mind already planning our route through the manor.



He moved to hop back out the window from wentz he came. “ You could at least dine me first, woman. But you know I was never one for useless and time dragging pleasantries,” he replied grinning fiercely again and slipping one leg out the window.



“ Just promise me you'll meet me there!” I scolded huffing loudly. “ And don't forget your favor to glean any information from your Father.”



“ Yes, your majesty,” he sang and slipped the rest of the way out the window.





This whole arrangement was either resourceful or incredibly stupid and it would probably result in a larger mess than I was currently in. Rune was reckless and a complete flirt but he could be manipulated. And more than I cared to admit, any assistance felt like weight lifted from my own delicate shoulders. For now, I needed to push those thoughts aside. Worrying about tonight wouldn’t beckon it to arrive any sooner, although I had the feeling anxiety would be nipping at my heels all afternoon.





I needed to get up and out. My breakfast had certainly gone cold by now but I didn't possess much of an appetite anyway. I pushed off the armchair and strolled to my floor length mirror.



Wow, I really did look rough.



My eyes were slightly swollen and pink and a nest of black covered a quarter of my face-it appeared there’d been a battle between my pillow and hair, my hair taking the defeat. I pulled up my sleeve to look over the healing cut on my tender skin. I would need to bathe and clean the area well. I began to unwrap the bandage carefully, so as to not pull the skin. As I peeled back the very last piece of herbal infused cloth to peer at the laceration, a twinge of shock prickled down from my head to the souls of my feet.



It was gone. Completely… healed.



The cut had been small to be sure but it couldn't have healed that fast on its own accord. The only thing remaining was a thin white line matching the angle in which the letter opener sliced through the tissue.



It healed itself? I…healed…myself?



A small laugh of disbelief escaped my lips as I gazed bewildered and in awe of the faint scar. This was remarkable, no IMPOSSIBLE. I suppose I should have been grateful I would no longer have to worry about it drawing anyone’s attention. But still, I marveled at the supernatural phenomenon.



After a few sips of potent black tea and a thorough soak I felt energized at the day that lay in front of me. Even though a great deal was still left to the unknown, this new discovery slipped into my confidence like gold threading through fabric—subtle but powerful. I felt more alive, more self belief than I ever had before, as if the usual layers of self defense against my hostile environment were now weaved with tungsten, empowerment pulsing through my veins. Whatever lay dormant for many years of my existence had now been stirred and it yawned.



I resolved that my appearance would match the new feelings glistening on my skin in the morning sunlight. And a miniscule part of me would enjoy the agony it would cause Rune in the later hours. I rang for Eleanor. Promptly, she arrived with her usual sour face. One look at my tangled mess of locks had her immediately reaching for a comb.



“ Good morning my dear Eleanor,” I purred. In my frequent free time I found great pleasure in attempting to erode the thick stone walls the matron lived in. Ofcourse she never returned any pleasantries for she saw through my front, but all the same it brought me amusement.



“ Fine morning Miss Fleur,” she recited, cold and curt.



I hid a small smile of satisfaction.“ I wish to look enchanting today,” I demanded, “ Perhaps the charcoal gown that I purchased in the Southern Isles yester-year?”



The unyielding face cracked slightly as she pondered my request.



Yes, I will admit the gown was certainly a more modern fashion.



Father had deemed the garment unsuitable for a young lady and commanded me to change when I had first displayed it. Indeed, as Eleanor removed the masterpiece from my wardrobe and my eyes were laid upon it again, I relished in the stares I would receive in town today. Not to mention the ruby stains of jealousy that both my grievous sisters would adorn when they witnessed how magnificent I was to behold in it. The colors were not that of typical feminine wear and the bodice was structured with corset boning.



“ Are you certain you wish to wear this one today, Miss Fluer?” said Eleanor, the thick disapproval in her voice sleeping through her question.



It only lit the flame further.

“ Quite certain,” I said sweetly and turned back to my reflection.



“ As you wish,” she replied reluctantly and began to help me into the exquisite shades of steel and smoke.



As she laced the back, I allowed myself to luxuriate in the delicate billowing sleeves and the whispers of fabric drifting to my ankles in great succession. I was a poised statue of fallen ash from a richly darkened sky. My moondusted skin was an exquisite contrast to the folds of heavy rain clouds I now wore. With my midnight waves loose and free, Eleanor then brushed a soft line of coal to my eyes.



Finally finished, I beheld the striking women glancing back at me. Whoever she was, I would soon learn, I would soon discover. I dropped fragrant amber oil to each wrist and breathed in the radiance. Yes, she would be discovered and she would be glorious.