Chapter 33
Tristan
I’m numb as I go through the motions of preparing our bags for the journey. It’s not that far, but if things don’t go as intended, we might have to camp in the wilderness. At least planning what to take, from snacks to the tent, gives me a purpose and something to focus on.
I didn’t get much sleep last night, rolling from one side to the other as the conversation with Nate wouldn’t stop tormenting me.
All I could do for him was keep my composure, but I failed even at that and lost my nerve too much.
At least I can’t say I didn’t communicate my feelings for him in a last-ditch effort to prove I’m worth his affection.
Not that it mattered in the end.
Nate doesn’t seem to have slept well either, but to me he’s just as handsome with swollen eyelids and grayish complexion as he was when I first saw him.
There’s a wall between us now. A wall that could be pierced if one of us reached out, but I fear it can’t be shattered, and it stays in place even when I slide into the saddle behind him.
He is trying to keep his back straight and avoids leaning into me, but I can still smell the wood and amber on his hair.
It’s faint, likely a leftover from the perfume he used before accompanying me to the party, but despite the thorn in my heart, I wish I could bury my face in his neck and soothe myself with his aroma.
But I know better than that.
I am Prince Tristan Bloodweed, and I’ve been raised to withstand any hardship with my head held high. So I nod back at the servants, then villagers, but I’m relieved once we leave civilization behind and ride into a long valley cutting through snow-capped peaks.
It’s beautiful out here, the scenery like an old picture that’s faded in the moonlight. The colors around us seem muted, and nature holds its breath, as if waiting for one of us to break down.
If we ventured out today on a pleasure ride, the same landscape would have echoed with laughter, but now only the trees rattle in the faint breeze, distant and as cold as the ice covering their limbs.
It’s as if the world around us holds on to everything we have lost, not with bitterness but an ever-deepening ache that I know will stay with me until the day I die.
Maybe once we find the unicorn and break the bond, I’ll freeze in place as well and never thaw?
At least then Nate will be free to seek out springtime.
I promised him that I will help him cut the thread between our shadows, and I will not rest until I do so if that is his wish. It’s the sole thing I can now do for him to believe I am a man who keeps his word.
We’ve been travelling for several hours now, with a few breaks to eat something and stretch our legs, but when we enter a clearing in the forest, we can finally see Melancholy Peak.
A long, long time ago, a fine castle used to occupy its summit, but all that’s left of it now is ruins. I’ve never read anything on the history of this place, but I do know it’s been abandoned hundreds of years ago.
Perhaps sorrow was the source of its destruction, because as Stone speeds up toward the climb, the broken towers rise toward the moon like hands begging for absolution.
Moonlight spills over the stone, so pale it makes the ramparts appear sickly rather than romantic, and no matter how precisely it spills into each crack, it couldn’t piece the ruin back together.
It must have been exquisite in its prime. Now, it’s just a monument to the melancholy in my heart.
I’m so turned inward that I barely notice when Nate utters my name. And no matter how much I hate the pressure inside, I can’t ignore him.
“What is it?”
Nate clears his throat, his hair scattered in the gap between his shawl and the hat he’s wearing. I made sure he had the warmest furs for this outing. “Are you angry with me?”
“Hm? No, why?” But there’s no point in playing dumb. I know what he’s referring to. This silence isn’t like us, and it reminds me of that terrible trip from Gloombane’s tower. “I figured all was said last night. But I’m happy to talk if that is preferable to you.” Though ‘happy’ is a stretch here.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispers back, hanging his head as Stone finally slows upon the incline.
“You are so kind, and generous, and I just want you to know that my heart remains with you.” He exhales and rubs his face.
“Do you think we can continue getting to know each other? Or would you rather I left?”
Why not just stab me and be done with it while he’s at it.
Of course I want to be around him all the time, but how would I keep my sanity then?
I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep my composure.
He cannot see how easily I fall apart when it comes to him.
It would surely only be yet more off-putting when what he needs is a rock.
“I don’t know what the best course of action would be. We should decide when we reach that crossroad.” It’s not even the way I usually express myself, just a strange echo of the way my oratory teacher trained me to speak. Something I fall back on when I need to be composed and polite.
He’s quiet, but I see his hands tightening in the gloves. “Can you only be mine if I’m your Dark Companion? Is that the only thing you’ll accept?”
“Well, if all goes well, soon that choice will be taken away, will it not?”
He goes quiet and shrugs, but I suspect he simply doesn’t trust himself to speak.
We’re both in pain, I have to acknowledge that, even though I feel as if he’d ripped my heart open with his bare hands last night.
We remain as quiet as the ghosts of the ruined castle for the rest of the way.
Nobody has removed the snow from the path, which forces my mount to trudge through it, panting, but eventually we pass through the crumbling remains of a gate and enter the courtyard, which at other times of the year is overtaken by wildflowers and jackalopes. Now it’s as dead as my heart feels.
A stubborn tower looms in the back of the structure, no doubt offering an excellent view of the uneven lattice of black and white stretching as far as the eye can see, but I didn’t come here to contemplate the landscape.
“The master of this castle died of sorrow,” Nate says softly as I stall, not yet ready to enter this ghost of a castle, because the unicorn might already be inside, and despite the ache in my chest, I want to keep my connection with Nate for that bit longer.
I’m so selfish. “He listened to his family and married the right candidate instead of his beloved, and in the end, he just couldn’t stand being apart from her. ”
“Oh. How do you know that?” I wonder if I could have saved everyone all this grief if I had tied my shadow to Nate’s right after pulling him out of the river. Gloombane would have had no claim on Nate then, and the love of my life wouldn’t have suffered unspeakable horrors.
And he may have loved me.
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” he says softly as I dismount, mentally preparing for the inevitable closeness when I help him off the kelpie’s back.
“I went to the library and sought information about this place. Its master ended up drowning himself in the well and was buried with the weights he attached to his own ankles. Even in death, he couldn’t be with the one he loved and was laid to rest with his wife. ”
I shudder, spotting the ruins of a stone well past the gate. It has no bucket, no roof, but there it is, a physical reminder of events that happened hundreds of years ago.
“Some places in the Nightmare Realm… They can become corrupted by the strong emotions attached to them. Maybe that’s why this castle never got rebuilt.
The aura of melancholy wouldn’t leave.” I clear my throat.
“Unless, of course, the book you read discussed a more practical reason for the abandonment?”
“No. If there is one, I didn’t find it,” Nate says, looking into the starry sky as I grab his hips and assist him onto the snowy ground.
There’s a tense moment between us as we stand chest-to-chest, so I quickly move away. To do something with my hands, I pull out my sword. “You never know what might be lurking in a place like this,” I explain.
The moon hangs over the ruins of what used to be a great hall.
Huge windows are partially crumbled, some only arches letting through the silver glow.
We could have been at the Nocturne Court right now, exchanging vows.
I would have covered him with my shadow, as he said the words binding him to me forever.
I am yours. Body, soul, and shadow.
But to do that, he’d need to trust me. Which he doesn’t. Not fully.
And I can’t ask him to ignore his true feelings, even though I know we belong together.
I swallow when Nate steps forward, sweeping the snow with the hem of his cloak.
Perhaps I should go first, protecting him from any threat that might await us within the fractured walls, but this is Nate’s first time here, so I let him explore and trail in the back, ready to swing my weapon in case of danger.
The echo of our footsteps is yet another reminder that this place fell apart with the soul of its master, and while it looks romantic from afar, the illusion is gone from up close.
This isn’t a folly designed for a moment of beautiful melancholy but a place where tragedy struck for real. The castle doesn’t mourn what it once was, it simply endures what a man of flesh and blood couldn’t.
We pass a wall where countless elves have left their mark by carving initials or brief statements in the stone, then pass into the ruins of a ballroom with the moon and stars as the chandelier. That’s when I see color.
Blue roses sprouting all around the garden outside its windows.
I’m so stunned I lower my weapon. My heart aches at their midnight blue shade. It’s as if they’re here to mock me, blooming even in the winter.
These are the roses so often symbolically used during the vows made with a Dark Companion.
And here they are, whole bushes of them despite the snow.
It melts on them, so they look as if they’re weeping, and I absentmindedly move in their direction, drawn to the dream they represent.
One in which I close my fingers around the thorns, and Nate puts his over my hand as we make the promise that binds us for eternity.
Nate belongs with me, and if he learned anything from the story of this place, he should see it like I do. But I can’t voice that thought. He’s been through so much because of me that if he chooses the illusion of safety over happiness, I have no right to interfere, no matter how much it hurts.
“Amazing,” he rasps, crossing the former ballroom and emerging in the garden. The plinth of a statue still stands at its center, but whatever it used to uphold is long gone.
I follow and pick a rose off the bush on the way. How are they surviving here in the cold?
“Tristan,” Nate whispers, and I’m instantly on edge, looking around for dangers.
And then I see it stepping from behind the bushes, cocking its head at us curiously.
The unicorn.
Its coat has an inner glow that illuminates the garden, and its bright, long horn shimmers in the moonlight. It’s smaller than a horse, lithe, with elongated legs and a luscious mane shimmering with sparkling particles I don’t have a name for.
It might just be the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.