Chapter Ten
ELODIE
After Lilian left, I stayed behind, my gaze glued to the manor’s towering form. Then my attention shifted to the package in my hands. I looked around, making sure I was alone, before tearing away the blue wrapping paper.
A book was nestled inside, with a mossy green cover and faded letters that read:
Encyclopaedia of an Enchanted Garden - Healing Herbs and Vicious Plants.
My head cocked on its own. Why would Hudson Lamont give me this?
Its spine flaked under my touch as I opened it. The first page revealed a colourful drawing of a flower above a handwritten inscription. The blood drained from my body, leaving me limp.
My skin prickled. I looked up, glancing around, but it was just me and the tall walls of green.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching.
My eyes slid to the gargoyles again, but then I shook my head.
It was only stone. I sank into the bench, my fingers trembling as I flipped to the next page.
On the centre of the yellowed page was a drawing of a long, purple flower, framed with my mum’s looping script.
Her thoughts were scattered on the margins, like echoes of her voice. I thumbed through the book, listening to her, until a purple, spindle-like flower made me stop.
Purple Hyacinth—a symbol of sorrow and regret. I rubbed the centre of my chest trying to ease the sudden tightness I felt.
Why did Hudson Lamont have my mum’s book?
“Elodie?”
I slammed the book closed just as Myra appeared around the corner, her melted caramel curls bouncing as she stopped in the centre of the maze.
“There you are!” Her sister wasn’t far behind. “We have been looking for you!”
“You have?” I asked, sliding the book back into what was left of the wrapping paper.
“Our teacher cancelled today’s lecture. Would you care to join us?”
I stood, pulling my sweater tighter around me to protect myself from the cooling wind. “Join you where?” I asked, and the twins shared a mischievous look that promised nothing but trouble.
I followed the scent of hay as I cut through the garden. After Cecily threatened to recite the entirety of Wuthering Heights in a South Welsh accent, I agreed to join them.
At least this way I was getting some fresh air. I’d lived between the bricks of the city for so long I’d forgotten how nurturing nature could be. My lungs filled with brisk air, the fallen leaves slick beneath my boots as I walked slowly, taking in the lush greenery.
From the vale stretching below, to the hill covered in red leaves upon which the manor stood, to the dark edge of the surrounding forest. If I believed in things like this, I would’ve said it was like the whole land got touched by something otherworldly.
I passed a glass greenhouse almost completely hidden by ivy before I spotted the white gate Myra had described in the maze.
They went ahead, and I walked up to my new room to leave my mum’s book on the nightstand.
The gate waited wide open between two bushes, as clear an invitation as any.
I stepped through, following the dirt path until bricked stables came into view.
The closer I walked to the building, the smaller I felt, and by the time I reached the threshold, it loomed over me like a sleeping beast. I pushed the heavy door open just as a horse neighed—high-pitched, then dramatically low—before it stomped in place.
Its gaze met mine, dark as dusk, its coat like it had been woven from the black heavens.
It stomped again, hooves dashing against the ground.
“Dee!” Cecily’s voice reached me, dragging my attention away from the animal.
The twins were at the far end of the stables, standing by two other giants.
Myra was securing a saddle onto a brown mare, while Cecily gently stroked a grey horse’s muzzle.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like to grow up with a sister—never being alone, always having someone to talk to.
To share the weight of grief with someone.
I’d never wished for siblings before, but now, a hollow ache bloomed behind my ribs.
“I see you met Lilith.” Myra grinned, and I glanced back at the black horse—Lilith—who raised her head and met my gaze. “Come, let me introduce you to Acorn and Ghost,” she added, motioning me closer.
The cool, crisp air mingled with the earthy scent of hay and animal dander as I moved deeper into the stable. The grey horse’s nostrils flared, its muzzle wrinkling as its ears pinned back. I froze. I wasn’t much of an animal person, and getting kicked by a horse would only reinforce that.
“It’s okay,” Myra’s voice stayed calm. “They can sense you’re nervous.”
Cecily’s brows knit, and her grey eyes studied me. “They do the same thing when Lilian’s around. Maybe it’s something in your blood.” My eyes narrowed at her whisper, before laughter spilled from her lips.
But what she said lingered behind. Something in my blood. For a fleeting moment I was seven years old, afraid of my own shadow. I fought the urge to walk away, back into the manor, and instead I glanced at Lilith again. She was the first animal who seemed somewhat calm in my presence.
“It’s okay,” Myra said, guiding my attention back to them. “Acorn is smart, he knows he can trust you.” She gently rubbed the brown mare’s nose.
I remained rooted to my spot while Cecily released her horse—Ghost, I assumed—and handed me a helmet.
“Would you like me to help you get her ready?” she asked and my brows furrowed. Then she pointed behind me. “Lilith.”
I turned to look at the black horse whose head was poking out of its stall.
“I’m not riding,” I said, shaking my head, and Cecily’s rosy lips turned downwards.
“You aren’t?” Myra asked, surprised.
“I’ve never ridden before,” I admitted. “I don’t think this is the right time to start.”
That was a lie. No time would ever feel right. Getting on the back of that muscle-bound beast looked just as scary as sitting on a rollercoaster without the safety belt on. I preferred my feet on solid ground, where I only had to trust myself with my own life.
Lilith, as if reading my mind, flicked her tail and turned her back to us.
“Of course you’re riding,” Cecily insisted. “Lilian won’t mind you borrowing Lilith, and who knows when we’ll have weather as beautiful as today’s again.” She pointed at the door where the autumn landscape stretched beyond.
“Lilith is super smart,” Myra added with a reassuring smile. “She won’t give you a hard time.”
Lilith let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of judgement. I glared at the helmet in my hand. Lilith. I could only hope they’d named her like people named those small dogs. Drastically unsuited.
The frost-covered meadow shimmered in the sunlight outside the stables. Cecily galloped ahead while Myra stayed by my side on Acorn’s back. I guided Lilith on foot, holding her bridle. She was right, Lilith seemed harmless. At least for now. But I still felt more comfortable moving on my own.
“How come you’ve never been here before?” Myra asked, her voice almost fully muted by the wind. “At Thornhill.”
I looked up at her, the sun warming my cheeks. “My mum never told me about her family,” I answered.
She tipped her head, pulling Acorn’s reins. “And you were never curious?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I guess I wasn’t.” I always accepted our small family of two. “And what about you?”
Myra pursed her lips, thinking. “Lilian took us in a little more than a month ago. We lived in a children’s home before.”
So they were orphans like me. Cecily turned Ghost around, circling back toward us and halting just a few meters ahead.
“It’s such an amazing day, isn’t it?” she asked from the saddle. “Come on, Elodie, give good old Lilith a go.”
I glanced at the dark horse, and, as if sensing it, she did the same, turning her massive head toward me and nudging my shoulder with her nose. I flinched, pulling my head away, but I still pet her muzzle and her stark white blaze. She was soft, almost silky.
“You just have to hold on.” Myra smiled.
I bit the inside of my cheek. That didn’t sound as promising as she must have thought.
I looked into the horse’s warm eyes and sighed.
Placing my boot into the stirrup like I’d seen the girls do, I pulled myself up, the muscles straining in my arms. Lilith shifted beneath me, and my breath caught, my grip tightening around the saddle’s edge.
But she didn’t throw me. She moved slowly, like she understood.
Like she was letting me try. I felt a strange mix of unease and excitement as her powerful muscles moved beneath me like a waterbed as she slowly bounded forward.
“There you go!” Cecily called, trotting closer with a wide grin. “See? Now we can stay together.”
I kept my eyes on Lilith, still half-expecting her to decide she would throw me off, but she just kept walking with ease.
At least one of us was relaxed. The distance slowly stretched between us and the stables.
The chilly air clawed through my hair, its fingers tangling in the strands while it drew roses onto my cheeks.
It was colder up here, exposed on Lilith’s back, but she radiated warmth beneath me like a moving fireplace.
We had just reached the middle of the frost-dusted meadow when a dark shape flickered at the edge of my vision. It was drifting near the tree line, like a shadow pulled loose from the earth. My palms grew slick around the reins. It followed me after all.
I glared around warily, but saw no threat. Maybe it was different this time. Maybe it was just letting me know that I could never escape it. I forced my eyes away, willing the shadow to vanish, but it glided closer, drifting soundlessly across the meadow like a lost ghost.
My breath hitched when it passed Myra’s horse, and Acorn reared.
Myra slid back on the saddle, tossing her grip.
Cecily screamed like she herself was in pain as her sister hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Acorn continued into a gallop while Ghost pawed the ground.
Lilith stayed still, unbothered. Cecily dismounted and ran to her sister, kneeling beside her in the dewy grass.
The shadow vanished as if it too got scared of its own actions.
I scanned the meadow, cautiously, then I nudged Lilith forward. She didn’t move. Instead, she sniffed at the frosted grass, unfazed by the disturbance. I climbed off her back, taking the distance between me and the twins on foot.
Myra sat on a log, gripping her shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut with pain. Cecily mumbled something into her ear, and that was the first time I couldn’t hear her clearly. Until now, she seemed incapable of speaking at anything less than full volume.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve scared you.” Myra suddenly looked up with her big honey-molten eyes. “I don’t know what happened.”
I blinked.
She’d just fallen off a horse and she was worried about scaring me?
“Are you alright?” I asked, twisting my bracelet, the cold calming my nerves.
She nodded. “It’s probably just a sprain.
” She smiled, though it seemed forced. The fall looked much more serious to be just a sprain.
“What have you got there?” she asked while Cecily checked her over.
My fingers tensed around the crystals. When I didn’t answer, Myra tilted her head with a flinch.
I hesitated, then lifted the sleeve of my sweater revealing the green bracelet.
“It was a gift from my mum.”
She nodded, and I tucked the crystals back into the safety of my sleeve.
A loud neigh echoed across the meadow, drawing my attention to the horses. Ghost chased Acorn into a full gallop, and the two of them ran further away by the second, while Lilith remained exactly where I’d left her. Sniffing at the grass, snorting occasionally—probably the frost stinging her nose.
When I turned back to the girls, Myra was on her feet, circling her shoulder.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked, and the twins turned their heads to me in sync.
Myra shook her head. “Not anymore. I feel much better now.” She stretched her arms. “Seems it wasn’t even a sprain after all.”
“It wasn’t,” Cecily chimed in. “I checked her over.”
My gaze flickered between the two girls, and I couldn’t help but feel that something was off about their behaviour.
“We should head back.” Myra fixed the helmet on her head.
“I’ll go fetch Ghost and Acorn,” Cecily called, already moving.
I stayed rooted in my place. What could’ve happened in that split moment I looked away?
Something pushed me, almost knocking me off my feet, and I turned, my eyes meeting with Lilith’s.
I took an uncertain step away from the monstrous animal, but it followed, slowly driving my attention away from the paranoia creeping up my spine.
They were just two seventeen-year-old girls. Hardly a threat.
And yet, something kept scratching the back of my mind, even as I petted the horse’s soft nose.
The shadow appeared again. Myra fell off her horse, flinching in agony from the pain. So how was she smiling and standing on her own two feet only minutes later?