Chapter 10 Astra
TEN
Astra
The room I’ve been given to stay in is nice.
It’s very different from the room I have in my father’s mansion.
I hate that place. I really do. And I’m kind of thankful I’m not going back there, at least for a little while.
I know I shouldn’t complain. Most people would be thrilled to be pulled out of a tiny house in the middle of the woods and moved into a castle.
Okay, it’s not exactly a castle, but it is huge.
Not only am I not used to so much space, but it kind of makes my skin crawl.
I sigh as I flop down on the bed. The duvet is white and covered with pretty pink painted roses, bunched together in twos and threes, and sporadically placed so it doesn’t feel overwhelming.
The pillowcases have little rosebuds in matching colors.
The pattern feels classic—as in old—but it makes me smile.
The massive sleigh-style bed faces a set of double doors, which lead out to the huge wrap-around walkway running the length of the top floor.
While the bed fills up most of the space on this side of the room, there is a little sitting area with a small couch and coffee table on the far side.
There’s even a TV on the wall, which seems out of place given the decor.
All-in-all, there’s not a lot of extra room, but that’s okay because I don’t need much. I can’t imagine I’ll start doing yoga here or have a dance party for one.
Checking out the room with my eyes has only provided me with a few moments away from my thoughts. It doesn’t take long for things to start sitting heavy on me again.
There has been so much thrown at me today.
I haven’t even had time to process all the things Sandra said to me. It’s hard to believe that was only a few hours ago.
I’m still having trouble comprehending the things she told me.
Like, how she’d trapped me with her magic.
Did the aunts know this? I can’t imagine how they would be clueless.
Now that I think about it, never once did they try to take me past the edge of the cottage’s land.
I become furious with them. Why didn’t they tell me?
Why didn’t they do something to break the ward?
Sure, Sandra said it was basically my father’s doing, but it still doesn’t make it right.
Why wouldn’t she just refuse? Unless she wanted to do it.
Maybe she didn’t want me around. Maybe I reminded her too much of my mother or she didn’t want to have to deal with me after my mother’s death.
I shouldn’t have run when I did. I should have let her talk.
But if I hadn’t fled when I did, I wouldn’t have run into Donovan in the alley.
I wouldn’t be here right now. Heck, I would probably be back at my father’s mansion still, in bed because any little thing I do drains me.
At least this way, I feel better, even if Donovan gives me emotional whiplash.
I don’t think he’s going to make things easy on me, and I hope he realizes I want to make it out of this just the same as him.
I’m not expecting or even hoping for more.
I’m not ready to die, if that’s where this curse is headed.
This is my first time in the world. I may have had access to the internet and TV, but being in it is way different than sitting back and only seeing it.
Especially, when I now have a freedom I didn’t know had been taken from me.
There are so many things I want to do, things I want to see and explore.
I scowl at the ceiling. I can’t believe Sandra messed with the world and my emotions the way she did.
I can’t help but think about how wrong it is.
Are there no rules or laws against things like that?
I grew up with magic, and I know there are certain things you don’t mess with.
I wish I could remember living with my mother and her coven.
I wish I could see her magic, however she might have woven it.
I don’t remember. Even though I strain my brain, I can’t recall anything other than a feeling when I think about my mother.
This warmth surrounds me and I don’t want to let it go.
Sandra had said I might not get my memories back because I’d been under the spell for so long.
It makes me angry. Sandra took my mother from me, and I might not ever remember her again.
A knock tentatively hits my door. I just know it’s not Donovan.
“Yes?” I call out.
Torrin stands in the doorway with a tray of food. He sets it on the table beside the door.
“Torrin, right?” I ask, just to make sure I heard right, and also to see if I’m allowed to call him that. Maybe there’s a more formal name he’d rather I use.
“Correct.” He flashes me a quick smile. “Lucille makes the most wonderful food,” he says, keeping his feet just on the other side of the threshold.
He’s giving me space, which I greatly appreciate. I’m stuck here, apparently, and he doesn’t have to be nice to me. Honestly, I think that’s the last thing Donovan wants.
Ugh, thinking about him makes me want to throw something. I can’t believe the way he talked to me before he walked out of the room earlier.
I may be trapped here, but I am not going to make it easy on Donovan Falco.
Torrin, on the other hand, I’ll treat him with respect as long as he keeps doing the same to me. I don’t trust him, but I won’t go out of my way to be mean to him.
“And Lucille is… Mr. Falco’s wife?” I can’t make eye contact as I ask the question or stop myself from cringing just a little.
I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it before.
What if he’s married? If my father has opened my eyes to anything, it’s that men can be cruel and uncaring.
Marriage and vows and promises mean nothing when it comes to certain needs.
The thought has me feeling sick to my stomach.
Then again, I suppose I can’t go without putting some of it on my mother as well. Though I don’t know if she had any idea if he was married or not.
Torrin laughs loudly. When I look up at him with shock written all over my face, I see his head is thrown back and a hand rests on his stomach. I don’t understand what’s so funny.
“No, Donovan doesn’t have a wife. Or a fiancée.
Or a girlfriend, for that matter,” he says, putting me completely out of my misery.
I don’t even hide the exhale of relief. He leans his shoulder against the doorjamb.
“Lucille keeps this house running. She mostly does the cooking now and makes sure the rest of the staff keeps in line.”
I eye the covered plate, pretending that I didn’t just get nosy about something so personal, or how telling it probably is.
“What is it?” I ask.
I can’t say why I’m craving human contact right now.
I don’t really care what the food is, I’m just not eager to be alone with my thoughts and strange emotions again.
A heavy load has been dumped on me today.
I feel like my life has been flipped upside down.
I’m seeking answers, but the only person I have to go to is myself, and I don’t have a single idea about any of this.
“Jam-glazed duck on a bed of mashed butternut squash with a side of roasted broccoli.”
I do my best to keep my face from showing how gross it sounds to me. I don’t want to be a snob, but also, does that make me a snob when I’m turning my nose up at snobby food? This is so confusing.
“Did you eat it?” I ask, lifting up the cloche and taking a peek.
“No,” he tells me. I think he’s trying not to chuckle at me. I must not be doing a very good job at playing it cool. “But I’m going to take a plate when I leave.”
“Oh,” I drop the metal dome and eye the smaller one next to it.
“She also made you a grilled cheese sandwich just in case the duck is not to your liking or if you’re vegetarian. Sorry, it’s not vegan. If you are, I can run out and get you something.”
“No, that’s okay,” I rush to say. “I eat animals.” Normally, they’re super-processed and not fancy ones, but I don’t need to say that.
I don’t need to tell him how the aunts were horrible cooks, all three of them, and so we lived on easy things that went from freezer to oven.
I’m sure knowing I was a virgin at the age of twenty-five and that I lived with my guardians way past the time I should have been there paints me in a silly light, and the last thing I need is for him to think I’m some child-like adult who grew up in a basement.
I’m not that innocent or sheltered, I swear. “I’ll try it.”
Or eat the grilled cheese and call it a night.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asks.
“I have nothing. Clothes and toiletries would be nice, if it’s not too much. I suppose I could just wear the sheets, though I don’t think Mr. Falco would like that.”
“You’d be surprised,” he says under his breath before sending me a quick smile. “I’ll talk to Donovan.”
“He’s not going to let me out,” I say. An idea comes to mind, but it won’t work if I’m locked in this tower… I mean house.
“Just let me work my magic, okay?”
I nod. Maybe he’s just trying to get me to drop it. I have no idea. I’ve put it out there, and I guess all I can do is wait and see.
“Bathroom’s across the hall. Feel free to use anything in there.” He straightens. “Good night, Astra.”
With that, the conversation is done. After I wish him a good night, he’s off, and I’m left to my thoughts again.
I pick at the grilled cheese. I’m hungry, but my stomach is in knots.
It doesn’t take me long to abandon it. Grilled cheese is not something you can eat cold, so I’ll be going without tonight.
My feet carry me to the other side of the room.
I pull back the curtain covering the glass pane on the door.
It’s easy to spot the lights behind a few curtained-off rooms, but I can’t tell if there’s any activity behind them.
The courtyard below is not huge, but it’s beautiful.
A firepit sits in the middle, but I see there are no chairs around it.
The stonework is beautifully done. A couple of small square tables sit scattered about, each with four chairs tucked underneath.
Wrought iron pillars decorate the space, helping to hold up the gallery running the way around the house on the second floor.
Some of them are covered with real ivy, which I find amusing since the scrolling work of the iron is in the shape of ivy leaves.
It’s clear someone takes care of it, cutting it back so it doesn’t become overgrown.
If this were another universe, I could see myself out there.
Spending cold nights in front of a roaring firepit, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate.
It seems peaceful. Warm mornings, I could take my breakfast at one of the tables, maybe reading a book or doing some sort of brain teaser puzzle.
I’m not good at them but I like to try. One of the aunts, Blossom, would get me a book full of them when she would go to the grocery store about once a month.
I have a stack of them in my room at the cabin, where the puzzles were half done.
As I let the curtain fall closed, I catch a glimpse of a chair outside my room. Good to know that if I feel too trapped or restless, I can just step outside and have a thinking spot to get some fresh air.
I wonder where Donovan is. Is he in one of the rooms on this level now? Is he downstairs, maybe eating dinner in a fancy dining room? Where is his bedroom?
Oh, no. No, no, no. We don’t need to think about that.
I spin, putting my back to the courtyard and those unwanted thoughts.
My attention snags on my reflection in the mirror in the corner of the room next to the wardrobe.
It’s tucked away and barely visible, and as it is, my reflection looks more like a slight movement coming from the shadows.
Like a ghost or a creature hidden in the dark.
My feet are carrying me across the room before I even realize it.
The deep bruising circles under my eyes seem a bit lighter than they had been this morning, but there’s no denying how I still look tired.
Look stressed out. I nearly laugh at the state of my sweater.
Sure, the off-the-shoulder look is sexy, but this thing looks like I tried to rip it off by the neck.
I let it fall to one side, exposing more of my skin than I would normally let show.
A deviously shy smile crosses my face as I stare at my bare shoulder.
I can’t say I hate feeling a little sexy.
But that isn’t why I came over here. I shake the thoughts away. There are more serious matters.
Like this, I think as I expose the flesh of my chest. It’s still there, the mark of the curse. I’m still not used to the idea, which probably has a lot to do with the fact that this whole thing is happening to me. Well, me and Donovan.
Curses? I didn’t think that kind of magic was still practiced.
There’s no way my mom would have done this to me. I’m sure of it. I feel like there’s so much right under my nose that I’m missing. I wish I had my memories. Maybe with some luck, my mind will be able to fix itself after being toyed with for so long.
I’m scared. I’m tired. I’m lost.
I have no clue about what is going on or the first idea how to fix it. I don’t know what I come from or where I fit now, especially here in the city.
Above all, I feel so alone.
Donovan doesn’t want me here. He needs me here, and I know there is a difference. I’m the thing standing between him and death, probably. Or at least a sickness that is crippling.
Torrin doesn’t know what to do with me. Not that it matters because he’ll do what his boss wants him to do.
Yeah, I’ve figured out what’s going on here pretty quickly.
I’ve stepped into a den of vipers, and there is one leader of them all.
Donovan Falco is a deadly man. He carries himself like someone who isn’t afraid to kill you if you get on his wrong side.
And I think I’m teetering on the edge of the wrong side.
I don’t have any grand delusions that he won’t kill me if he thinks it’s what’s best for him.
Well, that certainly is a thought to go to sleep on, huh?