Chapters 3-4

Fluer goes to town. She get her costume to crash the ball. Run in with The Veil Mother.

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 happen-

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.

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.

“So,” I rasped quietly out loud to myself, “ My blood…my blood opened the lock?”

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

This was entirely too much to take in. 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 freakishly BLUE blood tasted sweet!
My taste had betrayed my sense of smell and the smudge would still not come out. I stifled a wave of panic.

Racking my brain for solutions, 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.

I would embrace sleep tonight but only because the thought, the weight of being awake meant I’d have to wrestle with reality. To be cognitive was to be disoriented and my world had quaked enough for one day.





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 my 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 and perhaps they would know of his intentions towards Father. 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. Oh, and he wore a black suit and used a walking cane.”

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 cat pawing at a string.

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.

“ You’ve forgotten one detail, darling,” he said, in his eyes a glint of impish delight.

“ I suppose you’re going to remind me,” I offered back.

“ Do you not know what today is? The eve of the masquerade engagement ball?,” he questioned and stared at me puzzled as if I should already know this information.

What was he talking about? Whose engagement?

“ Were you not present at dinner yesterday eve? James and Aurelia announced their engagement over roasted duck. The whole town is buzzing.”

I paused to take in his words. I wasn't surprised, for their union had been planned for years. I was only shocked I’d missed the announcement. And with what had happened with James not but a week ago-

Aurelia must’ve scrambled to secure her marriage after I’d told her, latching it shut before it could slip through her fingers. A smart move to be sure, but I couldn't help but wonder at James's happiness. Not that I cared really, it just seemed a drier fate to be doomed to. A life without love, without passion. I pitied him.

“ I wasn’t told,” I replied. “ You said it’s going to be a masquerade ball?”

“ Oh yes! It’ll be quite the affair. The seamstresses in town are already drowning in fabric and sequin,” he laughed.

“ This does present a problem. The staff will practically be worked into the ground. If I know Aurelia at all, she will have them tirelessly working into the night. Ewoyn has told me of her methods and the frenzy she goes into if every detail is not to her exact likeness. We would definitely be spotted snooping,” I said, thinking out loud.

I thrummed my fingers on the arm of the chair, mulling the conflict over in my mind. Finally, I spoke into the contemplative silence.

“ We will delay our search. The night of the ball will be the best time. Everyone will be in masks so anonymity will be expected. We can sneak down while the guests are dancing and the Duke is distracted. It’s perfect!,” I exclaimed, satisfied with my solution.

“ And what? I meet you at the servants entrance and miss all the fun! I think not.” Rune huffed, his expression that of a child cheated out of desert.

“ I demand to escort you! Otherwise you can resort to asking Eleanor to assist you,” he demanded, triumph wet on his lips.

He knew.
He knew I needed his help, that he held all the cards and I had no one else to turn to.

He’d perfectly maneuvered me. Like a chess player cornering the king, every move had led to this moment — checkmate was inevitable.

I smiled through my gritted teeth.

“ Fine,” I spat.

“Excellent! Oh! And do wear something delicious,” he coaxed.

“Get out, Rune!”

Laughing softly to himself, he moved to hop back out the window from wentz he came.

“ You could at least dine me first before I’m to become your personal escort! How perfectly unladylike. But you know I was never one for time wasting pleasantries,” he replied grinning fiercely again and slipping one leg out the window.

“ Just promise me you'll be there!” I scolded huffing loudly. “ And don't forget your end of the bargain.”

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


This whole arrangement was either resourceful or incredibly stupid. 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 tomorrow night 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, a trip into town and some fresh air would do me good. Besides, I would need a dress and a mask for the ball.

My breakfast had certainly gone cold by now but I didn't possess much of an appetite. 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 to it. 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 pulsed 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. 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 more of a 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 seeping 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 of hair 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 her.

A knock sounded at my door. Sonnet's face appeared peeking her head around the in my reflection.

“ You’re dismissed Eelanor. Thank you,” I told her.

I received a comprehensive nod. She slipped past Sonnet and into the hall without another word.

Sonnet smiled meekly as she closed the door behind her. She wore a strawberry chiffon gown. Tiny blossoms in soft pinks and tangerine trailed along the hem, as if the dress had been kissed by a meadow. She looked like a spring garden in full bloom.

She took in my bold appearance.

“That's quite a dress,” she said, stepping beside me in the mirror. Whether the compliment came from admiration or jealousy, I wasn't sure.

“Thank you,” was all I managed.

The excitement for the day ahead dampened the moment she crossed the threshold.

“ I’ve come to tell you the news,” she said gently, “ James has asked for Aurelia’s hand in marriage. She’s told him yes. There’s going to be a grand celebration tomorrow.”

Her words fell like dainty petals from a dogwood tree. She didn’t know I’d already received the news just moments before. If she expected me to be happy for them she’d find herself sadly disappointed.

“ I’ve become aware of the news, thank you,” I replied, my voice quiet and still. “ It’s a shame the whole town knows of it before her own sister does but I can't say I'm surprised she decided against telling me herself.”

I never expected Aurelia to come bounding into my rooms to confide in me. She and I would always be enemies. If she told me at all it would be out of spite to demonstrate her control on James. But still, it pulled on the parts of my heart that wished for a normal family, one that truly loved one another.
Sisters who stayed up till late giggling under blankets and leaning on each other when needed. I’d read about family’s like that. I’d fallen in love with a Papa reading to his daughter in his favorite rocking chair and a sister twisting wildflowers into the braids of her sibling’s hair.

It was foolish to let my mind dream about such things. It made my reality even more empty knowing that there were families out there that loved each other fiercely and without hesitation. No games, no trickery, no tempers…just love, raw and unfiltered.

My back was still turned to her, my eyes watching her face in the mirror.

“ You know you really brought that on yourself. You shouldn’t have said those things about James and you angered Father, again.”

Her words were a soft plea. She spoke as if she was following orders, doing her duty. But I could tell they were painful as they left her mouth.

I felt no sympathy for her. Pressure from Aurelia or not, I was no less her sister than the brown haired tyrant who ruled her actions. Sonnet was weak, yielding submission to whomever swayed the room or stirred fear. In some senses, it made her a victim. In mine, it made her just as cruel.

“ I told the truth. I won't apologize for that. And Father’s temper is his own to control,” I spoke with strength.

Excitement had faded but my new courage had not left me alone. I felt it bolden me and brace me to stand taller. My words were not loud but they spoke volumes.

“ There you go again,” she replied, shaking her head and looking down. “ If you could control that tongue of yours, you wouldn’t find yourself in so much trouble all the time.”

“Well, I've gotten this far just fine on my own. No thanks to you,” I replied quietly, holding her gaze.

She looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.

“ It’s a masquerade, the ball…Aurela has already sent word to The Silver Thimble requesting two gowns. I followed up myself to make sure they knew there would be a third,” she spoke, walking over toward my open window.

“ I don't need your help,” I stated.

“I know,” was all she said.

She was still staring vacantly out at the trees.

“ I know,” she whispered again to herself.
And at that, she slipped from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Whatever. I didn’t need this sentimental bullshit.

I looked radiant and I fully intended on showing myself off in town. I needed a distraction and now apparently a dress, so I arranged for a carriage to be waiting for me.

I gave Sonnet a head start. No part of me wished to continue that conversation down the hall. After a few moments' delay, I grabbed my coin purse and briskly glided towards the stairs. Despite the heaviness of the previous moment, I felt light. Like a swan gliding over stormy waters, I refused to let conflict with my sisters touch my elated state.

As I descended skipping down the stairs, the folds of my gown swayed in cheerful accord—each flounce a silent note in a joyful song. When I first spied the masterpiece in the shop window it had spoken to me. It yearned to be worn by a beautiful, confident woman. I vowed to do it justice.

Hoping off the last step and humming a light tune to myself, I made my way to the open front doors and my chariot that awaited me. It was a beautiful morning. The sleepy sunshine beamed off the moist air creating a glorious cloud of sun blushed fog. The birds were a structured mayhem of sweet noises, all joining together in symphony. Dew clung to the vibrant grass like scattered pearls, and the hush that blanketed the earth made every sound— breath, footstep on damp ground—feel sacred.

The manor was breathtaking in these early hours. When I happened to wake and not sleep the day away, I alway felt a sense of deep gratitude that I possessed a pair of eyes. To take in this beauty, to breath in the crisp morning air- it felt like Nature’s gift to early risers.
I greeted the coachman with a simple good morning. He returned the gesture and moved to open the side door for me.

“ This came for you Miss Undergrove,” he said and handed me a correspondence card.

It was in Father’s writing. Great.

“ Thank you Edwin,” I said kindly, offering him a small smile.

He helped me into the carriage, closing the door behind me. As I sat down on the plum colored cushions, I debated even opening the note. Whatever its contents, it certainly wouldn't be good.

I slipped a fingernail underneath the seal and removed the letter from its envelope. Sighing, I flipped open the card and read.

Fluer,

It has come to my attention—by way of an esteemed guest—that you caused quite the scene during last evening’s dinner hour.

Your appearance was both shameful and deeply embarrassing, leaving a memorable impression on one of my honored visitors.
I had hoped, after years of careful instruction, that such a scenario might be avoided. It seems I was mistaken. And I do not take kindly to being mistaken, daughter of mine.

I am far from pleased.

As you are no doubt aware, the masquerade ball to commemorate the union of the Undergroves and the Etridens will take place tomorrow evening. This event must unfold flawlessly. There is no room for misstep—least of all yours.

In light of your recent display, I have decided you shall not attend the celebration.
You are not to set foot near the gathering.

Do not entertain the idea of defying me—I have my ways of ensuring obedience.

Your sister is in full agreement with this decision.

If you are seen, you will come to regret it—profoundly.

Regards,

Father

“Who the hell does he think he is!” I exclaimed aloud to myself, heat rapidly rising up my neck.

I crushed the paper in my fist and flung it at the carriage window. It struck with a soft, muted plink—the only reply to my fury. I knew my appearance would get back to him. I knew that it would cause him distress. That was the initial goal.

But this? This was unforgivable.

How much had the stranger embellished my story?

And how thoughtful of Father to include Aurelia’s endorsement at the end — why not tie the whole thing up with a scornful pink bow while he’s at it?

I was seething, fuming. If they thought they could do this to me, they would be poorly mistaken.

Oh, I was going to that ball and I would make sure everyone would remember tomorrow night’s event and the happy couple.
A satisfying, wicked smile grew widely on my lips.

I was going to enjoy this very much.


The town was indeed ‘buzzing,’ as Rune had put it. The news had spread like wildfire and was nothing short of momentous for most onlookers. The Etridens were the wealthiest family on the entire island, making them a constant topic of conversation. Yet now, as I passed the bustling market stalls along the cobblestone streets, I could hear the whispers that followed my own steps. I didn’t mind the attention—though it was strange to hear our family’s name drifting so eagerly through the crowd.

My ears tuned to hear two older women gossiping by the well.

“ It’s a fine match to be sure,” said one in hushed excited tones.

“ I'm not so sure,” said the other “ I heard the Duke’s daughter was tangled up with old Gideon’s boy not long past. What’s his name again? Reed? No, Rune!”

I chuckled to myself quietly and continued listening to their juicy conspiracies.
Let them think what they wanted.

“ That's absurd! The Undergroves were never subject to such a scandal,” she replied, shaking her head fiercely in disbelief.

They were clearly misinformed, but I was more than happy to let them believe the story revolved around Aurelia instead of me. It was only a rumor, but it was enough to keep her on edge—her eyes darting to every guest who looked her way, convinced their glances carried judgment and disdain. It would only be another layer of counterfeit confidence peeled back.

The warmth from the sunlight felt glorious on my skin, warming the blood in my veins. It appeared everyone in Innswood took advantage of the fine weather today. The market was packed with vendors and pop up stands. Hard faced men selling steel and weapons, widows offered roses to those who passed by at flower stands, hoping to coax in their customers.

My eyes wandered over the bustle of the townsfolk, moving like bees around their hive. I envied them—their freedom, their ability to shape their own lives, to choose their own paths. Wealth is always seen as something to desire, but in truth, it felt more like golden shackles clasped around my ankles, gleaming yet unyielding.

I wondered at what it would like-to love someone and not have your names whispered around town. To possess an intimacy only between two earnestly beating hearts. What would it be like to freely explore my own passions and interests, stead of stuffing my dreams into a mold and trimming off edges. To love fiercely and without caution, to learn from failure instead of bruising from it. My heart ached with longing to walk into days that held more meaning.

I glanced up from my shoes and my thoughts and took in the beautifully complex chaos before me once more. Noticing for the first time, something colorful caught my eye. Brightly painted wagons lined the edge of the square, and vivid pennants danced on the breeze. A traveling circus had arrived, its performers already drawing a small crowd of curious townsfolk. They only came once or twice a year and it was usually in the Autumn months. They were early.

I decided I would explore the grounds once I’d secured a costume for tomorrow’s ambush. I knew just where to go, too. The Silver Thimble would be swamped with hot faced aristocrats waving their impatience money at seamstresses. I would surely be trampled under foot and I didnt want to endure any scrutinizing stares.

There was a hammelet shop on the corner of Pearl Harbor- outside nothing more than a box but inside a treasure trove of rich colors and fine fabrics. There would be no noblewomen pillaging silk from that part of town and I had a connection with the shop owner Madame Lys. I recognized her talent and attention to detail on one occasion years ago, when I fell in love with an intricately beaded turquoise clutch she’d hand stitched herself. Since that time a kinship developed over tea and love for design.

She’d produced quite a few exquisite pieces for me to wear to various important occasions. If I was to pull off this scheme and with excellence, I could do no better than Madame Lys.

I stopped to purchase a smoldering glazed scone from a grubby faced man in a red cap. He greedily snatched the coins from my hands and stuffed the delicious treat back at me. I nodded my thanks and continued my leisurely stroll to Pearl Harbor, popping a piece of scone into my mouth. My tongue was met with sweet notes of vanilla and sugared blueberries, the crust giving way to a soft tender middle. I groaned out loud with delight. Likcing a smear of purple from my thumb, I marveled- half in delight, half in surprise that something so simple could taste that perfect.

By the time I reached Madame Ly's shop I had dreamed up fragments of a breathtaking design. It was tradition for guests to avoid any shade of white, leaving the honor to the bride alone. Showing up would be my first blow of vindication but wearing her exclusive color would be the sparkling finishing touches to my diabolical scheme.

Aurelia would have a fit and likely be enraged enough to cause a scene, which would embarrass her further in front of her guests. My plan was perfect, fool proof even. I would play chess with Society’s rules and rely on the predictability of my older sister’s obsessive need for the spotlight.

The silver jingle of bells announced my arrival as I stepped into the shop. A stuffy nostalgic smell greeted my nose, full of moth balls and the faint scent of orange and cinnamon. I breathed it in and let it fill my heart. I had a friend here.

“ Oh Lys!,” I trilled through the shop, “Your favorite and most loyal customer has come to visit you.”

I heard a crash and the sound of buttons spilling on the floor from the small office in the back. A familiar mess of copper curls and a ridiculously large pair of purple reading glasses bounced into view.

“ Fleur, my Darling,” she purred like a finely dressed feline and threw her arms wide to greet me. Her layers of gold bracelets jangled as she walked closer to embrace me, hips swaying from side to side.

“ It's about time you paid me a visit, my dear. I have missed our little chats!” she exclaimed with luxurious flair.

Madame Rys was a sight to behold. Though she was an older woman, her beauty still held a kind of enchantment—etched in the corners of her eyes and painted across lips the color of ruby wine. She never dressed to please society; instead, she favored more bold, adventurous styles—layering animal prints with vibrant shades of melon and seafoam, as if daring the world to look away.

Her embrace carried the same sweet scent of orange and cinnamon. I squeezed her tightly, grateful for the simple touch my heart so desperately needed.

“ I’ve missed you too,” I said to my friend.

“ Well, I know if you’ve come to see me you surely have a masterpiece in mind for me to create for you! What’s the occasion, my sweets?” she said, peering over her large lensed readers.

“ And by the stars! Who designed this?” she said now, noticing my charcoal gown and running her fingers along the fabric in awe. “ I am ashamed it is not one of my own pieces. The color is extraordinary!”

“ I bought it from a shop window in the Southern Isles!” I exclaimed beaming down and the lavish layers I wore.

“ Im am not surprised in the slightest at how magnificent you look wearing it. It takes a special woman to pull off this type of design. You executed it seamlessly!” she raved.

“ You’re too kind Madame,” I jested back in exaggerated tones and curtsied.

A rich, lavish laughter sang from her mouth.

“ Oh, you are a riot!” she said, batting a polished hand towards me. “ But I know you did not come all the way to Pearl Harbor for my flattery. What occasion calls for this visit?”

“ There's to be a ball, Rys. A masquerade. In celebration of my eldest sister Aurelia and her conquest James Estridsen. An engagement celebration,” I explained to her, smiling deviously.

“ Ah, yes! And you’ll need a gown and a mask to attend the event?” She pondered with me.

“ Not attend,” I said, mischief coating my words, “ to ambush.”

Her expression shifted to mimic mine. A slow smile tugged at the corner of her lips, soft at first, then curling into something far more playful. Her mahogany eyes lit with a spark—sharp, sly, and unmistakably up to something.

“ Did you have any colors in mind?” she coaxed, willing to partner in my crimes.

“ I was thinking…white.”




Chapter Four

In that small corner shop designs constructed from vengeful silk and rhinestone beading were sketched, pinned and draped. Rys made sure I would turn every head when I walked into the room. After several lengthy needed hours or laughing and luxury, I paid her and scheduled my pick up for tomorrow afternoon.

“ Ta ta for now my tart,” she swooned, “ I'll be here waiting for you tomorrow to adjust any last minute details if necessary.”

“ You have my full trust. You always exceed my expectations,” I replied with high praise and slipped out into the alley.

The sun was still high in the sky, its yellow haze a beacon for my steps in the shadowed backstreet. Walking back towards the square, the unfamiliar strains of music and the mingling scents of roasted nuts and sawdust tugged at my senses. A wave of excitement rushed through me.

I’d forgotten all about the circus wagons!

I followed the smell of sugared pecans till the cobblestones disappeared and my slippers padded on a mossy green floor below. Striped red tents billowed in the breeze, their peaks reaching for the sky like a crooked finger pointing to the heavens. I walked slowly, eyes wide with wonder. Laughter drifted on the wind, mingling with distant notes of calliope and somewhere nearby, the fluttering of doves wings. Performers in blues, reds and bright yellows darted by with smudged makeup and alluring expressions. They carried hoops, ropes and crates that hissed and rattled with unseen mysterious within. Every step I took felt more like entering a whimsical madcap dream- made up of smoke, sequin and a whisper of magic.

A magic show had started and folks were gathering round to watch a strange man in a pinstripe suit make a canarie disappear from a small metal bird cage. The crowd oohed and ahhed at the illusion, cheering and whistling for more tricks.

I scanned the stands, surveying each booth and the oddly patterned, painted performers behind them. As I turned the corner, the laughter and cheering dimmed and faded, replaced by a thick hush. The grass grew patchier here, trampled under more foot traffic and yet it appeared I was one of the few souls wandering this section. The sun had hid behind the cloud cover and the faint scent of incense clung to the air- sweet, smokey and strange.

Nestled between the rows of tents was one smaller than the rest. The entrance was draped with heavy violet curtains made from a rich velvet-seductive and buttery. Long strands of brass beads fell like a waterfall obscuring the inside view of the tent, chiming small plinking notes in the wind. As the sun retreated further into the cloud cover, an eerie heaviness settled over me. I could feel the wind behind me beckoning the folds of my dress in the direction of the strange fortress.

Curiosity tugged at my feet and before I knew it I was walking closer, a magnetic pull hastening my steps. I stopped at the entrance. An aged oak sign hung crooked from its chain with the words: The Veil Mother- Seer of Secrets eachted into the wood.

“ I knew you would find me,” croaked an old matronly voice from within.

Fear shivered down my spine at the sound. I recognized that voice, the way it crackled through the silence-like the voice I’d heard in my nightmare, only feminine and more crinkly. As if in response, pinpoint pressure surged in my finger once more.

Oh, God.
It was happening again.

My anxiety continued to climb higher, fearful of what waited for me beyond the raining vines of beads.

Every instinct inside my body told me to RUN-to run far, far away from this place. But it was happening again and I needed to know, I had to know why. I reached within myself, pulling up any courage I had and pushed through the pearls of brass.

A frail elderly woman covered in inky marbling sat upright on a plush velvety sofa- its rich color matching the drapes outside. She was horrifying. The tattoos wrapped up her crepey neck and along her jaw-coming to a pointed line at her chin. Head cocked and eyes wide, I was greeted by a toothy black smile, jagged and too wide—like something that had forgotten how to be human.

It's just an act.
She’s just a prefromer, it's her job.

“ Sit, Blueblood,” she commanded in a deep loud voice and motioned a long bony finger to the seat across from her.

The words hit me like a brick.

Blueblood.
How could she know?
How could she possibly know that?

My whole body rippled with fear, my nerves firing sparse tingles through every limb. I cautiously sat in the armchair across from the oracle. The cushions smelled of mildew and bones.

“ Veil Mother? That is what they call you?" I managed to croak out.

She cracked a high pitched simper to herself and lit the taper candles between us with a long wooden match, humming an off pitch tune. It was a sort of uncanny children's lullaby.

“ Curious things, so very curious,” she sang to herself, her head moving from side to side- each motion wobbly and strange.

“ Aren’t you supposed to read my future or tell me who my true love is?” I asked with as much resolve as I could muster.

“ Curious little Clinkling. Such useless questions,” she mumbled again and began rummaging through the layers of dusty wool she wore. The garment was thick, scratchy and likely moth eaten-felted with age.

“ Well what questions would you have me ask then?” I pressed nervously.

“ What do you wish to see, lockborn?” she replied, her hands still firmly scouring through her coat pockets.

I shook my head and looked around the dingy, smoke heavy room.

Why was I in this stupid tent asking questions from some old hag?

What did I expect?

To find all the answers magically lying before me?

“ Most do,” said the witch, “ But you are not most, nor all.”

My breath caught in my chest-frozen like a bird mid flight. Eyes wide and lips parted, I stared at the Veil Mother for she’d answered a question I never spoke. The air suddenly felt thinner and my mind wholly exposed. My hands twitched at my side, unsure whether to run, scream or deny it.

The old croon only smiled- slow and knowing.

“How did you-” My voice barely a whisper.

“ More useless questions,” was her only response as she dumped handfuls of dirty trinkets onto the table between us.

She spread out the pile picking through each item-snail shells, dried mushroom caps, bones of a small animal. My stomach knotted and threatened to spill every secret I’d ever buried.

“ Ah here it is,” she trilled, “ hiding and seeking from Old Mother Viel are we?”
She spoke to a small burnt parchment piece, covered in smudged ink.

She thrusted the small crisp towards me in her grimy paw.

“ Take-it! Take-it!” she ordered with haste, nodding her head up and down in urging rhythm.

I reached for the note, afraid she would bite my hand off and eat it for lunch. I snatched it quickly from her palm and turned in over in my hand.

“ Live in the shadows. Let them guide you,” she whispered, her breath a warm husk that smelled of death. Her pitch eyes were fixed on mine intently, as if she could see through my skull to the wall behind me.

Chilled to the bone, I shoved the burnt note into the folds of my dress- too afraid to take my eyes from the witch and read it. I needed to get out of here. She’d given me a hint, whatever it was and now it was time for me to leave before my fate turned sour.

She stood from her seat and hobbled closer towards me, sliding a long jagged knife from the rags she wore.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I was dead.

Her next batch of meat pies.

I scrambled to get to my feet to run, flee, sprint as fast as I could away from this place. In a flash she was before me forcefully squeezing my wrist in her claws.

“LET GO OF ME!” I half yelled, half shrieked in terror.

I was pulling- yanking furiously against her grasp but I could not wrench my wrist free. She was strong, unnaturally strong.

“ Shh, Shh, Shh, Pretty,” she coaxed, turning my wrist so that my palm faced the ceiling-the tender underside exposed to her waved kris blade.“ Just a drop or two.”

A shrill shriek escaped from my mouth as she brought the dagger to my skin. I was crying, sobbing in pure terror. I felt the tip of the deathly sharp knife pierce my skin and-

BANG

The witch was flung backward, slamming into the crates stacked behind her with a thunderous crash. A piercing cry of fury tore from her throat—a sound so raw, so inhuman, it scraped against my bones. I had never heard anything like it… and I hoped I never would again.

I wasn’t sure what had just happened or how but I didn't plan on sticking around long enough for her to recover. I threw my legs into motion flying back through the strands of beads and forcing my muscles to propel me forward faster- FASTER. Everything around me was a blur of colors and winded carnival music.

Still I ran, frantically gazing over my shoulder to make sure the Veil Mother wasn’t close on my heels. After a solid ten minutes of weaving in and out of rows of booths and no sign of an angry witch behind me, I slowed my pace. Bracing my hands on my knees, I gasped for air.
Blue blood was running down my palms and pooling at my fingertips. The knife hadn’t cut to its full intent but the slice was enough to cause a royal mess.

Oh, God.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.

I tore a strip of my dress off with my teeth, still gulping down shaky breaths.

Virgiosly scrubbing the blue stains, I wrapped my wrist and down my palm with grey silk-tying a small knot to secure it. I checked my surroundings again for the hundredth time. I was shaking uncontrollably from adrenaline and panic.

Where was everyone?

The crowds had almost completely dissipated and it was even darker outside than before, the clouds heavy and shadowed. I was a spec of coal in a maze of yellow stripes.

I need to keep moving.
Get the hell out of this place.

Finger still leaden, pulsing in warning, I hasten my pace again till I reached the town square.

Relief washed over me at the sight of civilization, folks going about their lives and tending to their errands.

A soft hand landed on my shoulder. I whipped around fully expecting to see a sinister wrinkled face before me but it was a pair of caring amber eyes that met mine- the widow at the flower stand.
“ Are you alright, Dear?” she said, gazing down at my wrist and taking in my state of fright.

I was drawing too much attention to myself.
I needed to get to the carriage.
And now!

“ Fine, thank you” I replied a bit breathless.

The woman threw me a concerned glance but removed her hand from my shoulder and let me go.

God, my head was pounding, throbbing.

I brought my fingers to my temples and squeezed hard to relieve the pressure pulsing from my finger, all the way up my neck and into the base of my skull. Whatever was happening inside me had been stirred up and excited.

I stuck to the sidelines of the market, attempting to walk normally but not lose any speed. No one seemed to notice me. I had plenty of practice hiding bruises and hurts that Father had given me after heated arguments, so I slipped into the same old rhythm I’d mastered over the years.

Edwin was waiting with the carriage right where I’d left them.
“ Ready to go home Miss Undegrove?,” he asked from his perch, holding onto the reins.

I attempted to hide my sticky, stained hand in the folds of my gown.

“ Yes Edwin, quite so.” I replied, trying to slow my breathing and steady my expression.

He started to climb down from his post so he could open my door but before his feet could meet the ground I chimed in.

“Ah- don't-don’t worry about the door, I’ve got it,” I hastily spat and climbed inside the carriage.

Edwin mumbled encouragement to the horses pulling the carriage back to safety. The sound of the reigns snapped and off we went. If he noticed anything out of the ordinary, he would never say. That was a small mercy I was extremely grateful for at this moment- the help were trained to be discrete.

I relaxed into the rhythmic rocking of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones below, allowing my tense muscles time to thaw from their frozen state.
Just then, I remembered the paper the oracle had given me. I reached for the small strip and turned it over in my palm to read it.

The ink was smudged terribly. I could barely make out the muddled mess of letters. It appeared to be some sort of name or maybe a hint...

M…O…R ….Was that a Y?
No, a V.
Morv?
What the hell was a Morv?
I tried to recall what else the witch had rambled about before she tried to dice me to bits.
She’d mentioned something about living in the shadows?

God. Why did everything have to be so damn confusing?

It was always some sort of riddle.

I tucked the scrap away again to decipher later. We would be arriving at the manor soon and I needed to clean up the bloody mess before anyone else saw and questioned.