Once Upon a Midnight Dreary (Enchanted Realms #5)

Prologue

Late October, Present Day

Willowmere Restorative Retreat nestled in the hills outside Drumchapel Village was like a hidden oasis among the trees.

The autumn wind rustled the branches, loosening crisp leaves that fluttered to the ground and cluttered the sidewalk.

Marigold’s booted feet shuffled through them— swish, swish—as she made her way toward the concrete steps, passing the small, hand-painted sign that read Keep Off the Grass.

She paused, gazing up at the stone facade draped in climbing ivy.

It looked more like a forgotten estate house than a private wellness retreat.

Aunt Hilde had checked herself in several days ago—something Marigold only learned by accident.

Her mother had failed to mention it, but Marigold had overheard the hushed phone call when she was supposed to be upstairs finishing her homework.

She’d skipped her afternoon classes, caught the bus from the village, and walked the long country road to reach the foot of the hills. Willowmere didn’t exactly welcome outsiders, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She was set to see her favorite aunt.

The wind lifted her long blonde hair, making it flutter in her face. She tucked a wayward lock behind her ear as she trudged up the stairs and entered, pulling open the tinted glass door and stepping inside.

A woman sat behind an oversized, half-oval shaped wood desk. She glanced up when Marigold entered, her curious gaze landing on her. She spoke into a headset while her fingers tapped away on the keyboard. The sign on the desk read Reception.

Suddenly, Marigold wanted to flee. But determination pushed her onward to see her aunt. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the desk. The woman finished her phone call and then greeted her with a smile, her dark red lips pulling up at the corners.

“How can I help you, miss?”

“I’m here to see my aunt, Hilde.”

Dark brows winged upward. “Do you have an appointment?”

Her courage started to wane. “No.”

“One moment.” She pulled off her headset and stood. “Wait here.”

The woman in a pale blue dress bustled around a corner, disappearing.

Marigold chewed her lower lip as she glanced around the spacious waiting room.

The walls were a warm green color, mimicking the outdoors.

The furnishings were well-worn but comfortable.

An oversized velvet chair in a rich honey color sat opposite a two-seat sofa in a similar color.

Magazines scattered across the glass coffee table.

In one corner, a water cooler with cone-shaped cups.

She was about to take a seat when the woman returned.

“I spoke with the director,” she announced. “She’ll be along in a moment to speak with you.”

Marigold’s palms broke into a hot sweat.

What if they didn’t allow her to see her aunt?

What if they turned her away? What then?

She gave a sideways glance at the door, thinking about the long trek back home and having to tell her mother she had skipped school for no good reason. Long, quiet minutes ticked by.

“Miss?”

Marigold turned to greet the tall woman heading her way. She was slender, with a fall of pale silver hair over one shoulder. The strands were thick and luxurious. Her chin came to a point, and her cheekbones were high and angled, giving her a face that looked as though it was carved from marble.

She smiled as she extended a hand. “I’m Director Aveen. What’s your name?”

“Marigold. I came to see my aunt. She checked in a few days ago.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with Hilde. We have a strict no-visitors policy.” She paused there, pressing her lips together in a thin straight line. “But your aunt…well, when she heard you were here, she insisted I bring you to her.”

“She did?”

She nodded and motioned toward a hallway. “If you’ll follow me.”

Marigold fell in step behind Director Aveen down the long hallway. At the end, she turned left and led her to a door. There, she pushed it open and stepped aside to allow her to exit.

“You’ll find her in the courtyard.” She granted her a smile before she stepped back and let the door swing closed behind her.

Marigold stood there, her eyes scanning the area.

The enclosed courtyard was a cool, shaded place that unfolded like a secret garden.

Sunlight filtered through the autumn trees, dappling the mossy flagstone pathway that wound around.

Ivy climbed the crumbling walls, rising up to conceal the cracked mortar.

In the center, a fountain bubbled happily, topped by a fairy reaching for the sky, her stone wings spread behind her.

Strange flowers grew in stone pots along the walls, their petals open and reaching for the dapple of sunlight.

Wind chimes made of crystal tinkled in the faint breeze, their melody soft and enchanting.

Marigold followed the winding path around the fountain, and there, at the far end, was her aunt.

She sat in a cushioned iron chair in a puddle of light.

Behind her, a large tree with its silvery leaves hanging over her as though a silent sentry.

A shawl crocheted with shimmery threads was wrapped around her shoulders.

For a moment, she looked like part of the garden, as though rooted here in the place where time forgot.

She lifted her gaze to her as Marigold approached, a weak smile on her lips.

For the first time, she noticed how aged her aunt looked.

Deep lines creased down her cheeks and crinkled at the corners of her eyes.

Fatigue was there, too, as though she hadn’t slept in ages.

And there was something strange about the way the light in her eyes seemed dimmer. Less alive. Less vibrant.

She held out a hand to her. “There she is, my lovely girl.”

Marigold grasped her hand in hers and noticed how fragile she felt.

“When the director told me you were here, I thought it was a cruel joke,” she said with a half laugh. She released her hand and motioned to a similar chair opposite her. “Have a seat.”

“The director said you insisted on seeing me.”

She nodded. “I did. But aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Marigold glanced down at her hands folded in her lap to keep the truth from showing on her face. She had no intention of telling her aunt she’d skipped classes to come.

“Ah, so you are. What will your mother say?”

Her head snapped up as her heart rammed hard in her chest. “You aren’t going to tell her, are you?”

“No, dearest. It will be our secret. What are you doing here?”

“I had to see how you were. I overheard Mom talking to you on the phone.”

“I see. She didn’t tell you I was here?”

“No.” Marigold twisted her hands together in her lap. She glanced around the courtyard. “What is this place, auntie? It smells…old. It looks ancient. Like something out of a storybook.”

She chuckled. “It’s an old sanctuary for people like me who have been away from home too long. Don’t you worry. I’ll be good as new soon enough.”

Marigold drew her brows together in question. “What do you mean, away from home? Isn’t your home near ours?”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Home is where memories are created and stories are told.”

Marigold relaxed, leaning back on the thick cushion of the chair. “Are you going to tell me a story, then?”

“If you have time and are in the mood,” she said with a grin.

Excitement edged through her. “I’m always in the mood for one of your stories, auntie. What’s this one about?”

Thoughtfulness creased her features as she decided what to tell her. “How about one about a haunted estate, where nothing is as it seems? A woman who inherits that estate and a brooding man who guards the manor with a secret as heavy as stone.”

“That sounds intriguing,” Marigold said.

“There’s also a raven that whispers and watches, its wings tied to a centuries-old curse.”

“Another story about a curse?”

“Oh, yes. There are many stories about curses.”

A shiver raced up her spine. Marigold tugged her coat closer. “That seems fitting for this time of year.”

“Very well, then. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful heiress named Victoria who moved into a crumbling manor…”