Chapter 15 Scarlett
SCARLETT
Sunlight streams in through the open window.
Slashes of golden light illuminate my decadent bed.
I feel rejuvenated after such a deep and peaceful rest. There’s only one sore spot.
Even though I shouldn’t be surprised, I can’t help but be disappointed that I didn’t wake to Krane beside me.
It seems that no matter how much we had come together last night, there was still work to be done.
He doesn’t trust me. Hopefully, tonight will put to bed any more uncertainty he feels towards me, and we can move forward. Together.
Stretching out amongst the sheets, something is different about me.
My hands travel along my naked flesh. I gasp at the soft curves that greet my hands.
Sharp bones no longer protrude through my skin.
Tossing back the covers, I crawl from the bed and walk over to a large mirror propped along the wall.
My reflection shocks me. I no longer look like a stranger.
I look like me. Not exactly how I was a month ago, but I'm no longer a wraith barely tethered to this world.
My hair shines like a beacon. Dark shadows have been wiped clean from my eyes.
My hips and breasts are fuller. Pink decorates my chest and cheeks.
Whatever meal Krane had given me last night had done the trick.
His magic can do all. However, I know that it’s more than that.
Of course, I feel like my old self again.
Krane is with me. Everything is just as it should be.
Without him, each breath was painful, each day brought forth a new agony.
With him, even as the Headless Horseman, I have a reason to live again.
My soul is whole, as is my heart.
Turning from the mirror, I find a dark blue gown hanging from an old wardrobe.
Matching slippers rest beneath it. I can’t help but smile as I hold the soft fabric.
Slipping it over my head, the dress fits me like a glove.
The slippers fit perfectly as well. Walking over to a simple vanity, I find a brush and gently untangle my hair.
The thought of braiding it crosses my mind, but I decide to leave it down, enjoying its shimmering length.
A soft knocking echoes from the door.
Turning in my seat, I watch the heavy doors push inward to reveal Krane.
My heart speeds up at the sight of him. His pumpkin is firmly in place atop his shoulders.
Green flames snap and pop inside the openings.
They eye me warily as we stand facing each other.
The air is thick with tension. While he still doesn’t fully trust me, there is a new primal edge between us.
I can see the conflicting emotions warring inside of him.
I can only pray that the ones who urged him to kiss me last night prevail.
His soul brushes against mine. Last night, he called me his moon. That has to mean something. This wall of ice between us will be smashed into splinters by tonight. I will make sure of it.
It’s almost funny to watch us. The two people who always knew exactly what to say to each other at all times seem not to understand how to navigate this new dynamic. The silence stretches until Krane finally clears his throat—clarity dances in his green flames.
“Would you like breakfast?”
I nod eagerly; my stomach is already rumbling. After feasting the night before, the days I spent in hunger come rearing back. I will gorge myself to make up for lost time. I no longer wish to resemble the ghost I was becoming. I want to live with Krane by my side.
Krane extends a gray hand towards me. He has removed his gloves, and now I can see the state of his hands.
The skin is rough, as if burned. Dark nails decorate the tips of his fingers.
However, I don’t hesitate to take his hand in mine.
He is my Krane; while he may look different, he feels just the same to me.
He leads me from the room and we walk down a carpeted hallway towards the dining room, where we were the previous evening. Once inside, he guides me to the upholstered chair I occupied before, and he settles in beside me, much to my delight.
The room is just the same. Crumbling wallpaper and dust-covered paintings line the walls.
A glistening mahogany table is laden with all manner of breakfast items. Steam curls over the lips of silver serving dishes.
Fluffy scrambled eggs are arranged artfully next to crispy bacon.
Golden biscuits rest inside a tea towel.
Jars of jam and pots of fresh butter rest beside them.
My heart stumbles in my chest as I look at the color of the jam—blackberry—my favorite.
Of course it is, Krane’s magic made this feast. I look shyly over to him, only to find his eyes already on me.
My throat suddenly feels tight. I clear it before lifting my plate and spooning all manner of delicious food onto the porcelain.
Once I have taken bits of everything, I notice Krane does not reach for his own plate. After buttering a warm biscuit, I slather a thick spread of glossy jam atop it. Glancing up at Krane, I nod towards his plate.
“Do you no longer have to eat?”
A beat of silence passes before he nods.
“I’m not human anymore. All of those urges have been blighted.”
Lifting the biscuit to my lips, I pause before taking a bite.
“All of them?”
Krane watches me, his green flames flickering quickly inside his eye holes. His gaze snags on my lip as I lick a piece of jam from the corner of my mouth.
“Most of them.”
I swallow soundly. This is the most we’ve talked since our reunion. I don’t want to fall back into tense silence.
“How does the magic work?”
Krane sighs, shrugging his massive shoulders.
“I don’t really know. When I was made into this,” he pauses to gesture down at himself, “there was fire and pain—a cleansing and reforging of my soul. Memories were stolen for a time. I was unmade and twisted into this creature. Revenge was my sole motivation—it was the only tangible thing I had. The anger was all I could remember.”
I stop my chewing, the food turning to ash in my mouth. Krane’s eyes sharpen.
“I don’t say this to upset you. In truth, I have no idea why I was made into this.
At my creation, there were only whispers.
Whatever force transformed me led me to believe that it could be undone somehow.
If my revenge was satiated, then perhaps there was a chance.
” His lips twist. “Unfortunately, there’s no guidebook on how to be the Headless Horseman of Broken Cliff.
Everything—including the magic—has been things I’ve learned through trial and error.
If I think of something, I can make it appear.
I can transform myself into different forms. There are limits to my powers, of course. I find a new one every day.”
I nod at his explanation. My appetite returns at his urging, and I spear a piece of egg with my silver fork.
It melts against my tongue like butter. How strange that he does not know his purpose for being here.
Whatever created him must’ve done so for a purpose.
Perhaps my prayers had been answered, albeit in a cruel way.
I begged for him to come back to me, and someone—or something—had heard me and answered.
I would be grateful for Krane no matter how I had him. I abhor his pain, but I cannot be angry that we’ve been given a second chance together.
Glancing around the room, I lift a brow at him.
“Where are we exactly?”
“Nightingale Castle.”
I nearly choke on my final slice of bacon. Coughing, I take a sip of water before wiping at the grease decorating my mouth.
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
Something like amusement flickers in his flames. His mouth twists.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of ghosts, Scar.”
I narrow my eyes at his jibe even as my heart squeezes at the use of that nickname. No one but him calls me that. I take another biscuit and coat it in jam. Turning towards him, I shake my head.
“Regardless of ghosts, you know the stories about this place. A mad king who slaughtered his whole family. It’s said to be—”
“Cursed?” Krane points a long finger at his pumpkin head. “I think we’re well past that.”
I fight not to roll my eyes.
“Regardless, no one travels this deep into the Whispering Woods. Lest you wish to lose your mind and become a meal for whatever manner of bloodthirsty creatures dwell here.”
“Look at me. I’m quite the deterrent for anything that would seek to do either of us harm.”
When I still don’t look convinced, he shrugs. He takes the other half of my biscuit and spreads jam on it.
“When I first changed, I needed a place to heal. This seemed as good a place as any.”
He sets the biscuit on my plate.
“Oh, no. I can’t. It’s too much—”
“Eat,” he commands.
I do as he says, still ravenously hungry. He observes me, taking in every bite.
“No one would happen upon me here. I could regenerate in peace.”
“You were always fond of your alone time.”
Krane throws his head back, a rusty laugh escaping him—my heart pounds at the familiar sound.
“I rarely got any. Between my responsibilities around the manor and you, I barely had a moment of peace.”
Biting into my biscuit, I roll my eyes.
“You poor thing. Was being with me really such a chore?”
Krane stares at me as I sit back in my chair after polishing off the last bite of biscuit.
I am stuffed now. I feel as if I will burst out of my gown.
Krane lifts a tentative hand, and I hold my breath.
His thumb drifts to the corner of my mouth.
Thumbing away a lingering bit of jam, I watch as his thick tongue snakes out from his mouth hole and licks it from his finger.
I suppress a shiver—moisture slicks between my thighs.
“A chore? No.” His eyes gleam with mischief. “Exhausting? Yes.”
I raise a brow.
“I don’t recall you complaining.”
Krane huffs a laugh, flames slipping from his mouth.
“Who would complain about receiving a gift they’ve always wanted—even if that gift demands my full enthusiasm, even after toiling away in the stables from dawn to dusk.”
My lips lift into a grin.
“And enthusiastic you always were.”
The lightness between us is familiar. We were always like this—bantering back and forth, calling each other's bluffs. Always quick to share a laugh. If this were before, we’d already be naked. With a whole castle to ourselves and no one looking for us, we’d never be able to pull ourselves apart.
Even with the levity between us, I can see the separation that remains. That wall of ice is the only barrier between our hearts. His gaze becomes more guarded, smothering his good-humored smirk into a straight line.
I’m desperate to keep it from forming further.
“Do you remember my old tutor, Madam Bovery?”
He nods, confused.
“The one from up north, with the yellowing teeth and that always smelled like creek water?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“The very one. God, she was awful. No child ever gave her as much grief as you did.”
Krane shrugs.
“I was ten. What ten-year-old wants to spend his summer afternoons in a dusty study reading over spelling books?”
“You were a terrible student." Color warms my cheeks. “But I loved when you would attend lessons.”
“Because it made you look even more perfect than normal?”
I smack at his shoulder, and his eyes go to the feather-light touch.
“No. It was nice not to be alone with her.”
His eyes flicker with awareness.
“Her lessons were the first time you ever spoke to me.”
I nod, licking along my bottom lip.
“I remember.”
The memories come rushing back. Madam Bovery had been cruel to me over my poor penmanship.
Krane had been dismissed halfway through the lesson, only to discover me crying in my father’s field later.
He had made me laugh and told me that Madam Bovery was a miserable old woman who was only a tutor so that she could torment children.
Krane had sat beside me until my mother called me in for dinner.
I had forgotten all about Madam Bovery’s biting critique by the next day. Krane had not. Instead, he had found a toad from the manor’s pond and hid it under her stack of lessons.
“I can still hear her screams after discovering the poor, slimy creature,” I say. I wrinkle my nose. “Though her forcing you to write ‘I will not terrorize Madam Bovery with amphibians ever again.’ all day for the next three weeks seemed like an extreme punishment.”
Krane’s eyes turn soft.
“It made you laugh. It was worth it.”
The air between us shifts as we stare at each other—the memories of the past play over and over. Wherever I was, Krane was there too as my friend, my protector, and finally as my lover. Reaching up, I capture his hand in mine. My thumb traces the bumpy skin along the back of his palm.
“I want it to stay like this between us.”
Immediately, the tenderness ices over. His expression turns guarded, but I hold fast.
“Tonight will answer everything. You will see that I never betrayed you—that you can trust me.”
Krane says nothing, but he does give my hand one hard squeeze before pulling away. I reluctantly let him go. I sit back in my chair, taking in the fading light. I must have slept later than I thought, as the sun is already on the other side of the horizon.
“Do you have a plan for tonight?”
Krane huffs, waving a dismissive hand.
“Show up. Scare the earl. Threaten him. Get his confession.” His green flames dance. “Kill him.”
Simple enough, yet foolish. I shake my head.
“It won’t be that easy. He’ll have his father’s guards—more than he had to oversee our wedding.
” Krane seems to want to argue, but I push on.
“The king may have even sent his own forces. If we want to get close to Bram, then we have to find a way inside. One that won’t send him running at the first hint of danger. ”
Krane is quiet for a moment. His mouth twists as if digesting my words. I hold my breath—awaiting his dismissal. Instead, he merely nods, eyes turning sharp.
“Did you have something in mind?”
A smile curves my lips. I, too, have had time to plot my revenge against the earl for the part he played in Krane’s slaying.
“I had one idea.”