Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
S tifling was the only way to describe the manor.
Being held like a freak at a circus with five different sets of eyes on you at all times. The air became harder to breathe with each day.
As much as I loved my solitude, I needed an escape. I needed to remind myself that there was light outside of the darkness that plagued me. I had returned inside from the morning walk only to be ambushed by Grandmother in a strangling embrace. Her words spilling from her lips about losing me again and how worried she was. I gazed over her shoulder. Maaier leant against the wall, his shoulder just shy of the frame of my portrait on the wall. His face level with where my chest was immortalised in oil paint. A glimmer of amusement flickered through the dark abyss of his eyes. Mischief pulling at his smile. I furrowed my brow. His lips lifted at my obvious annoyance. This strange man would be the death of me. A mystery I couldn't solve.
After being released from Grandmother’s scolding hold, I stormed past Maaier, heading down to the kitchens.
Mary stood chattering in the doorway. Her voice was more alive than I had ever heard as she conversed with the cooks. Her attention focused on one dark haired boy at the stove.
I drew up next to her, she stiffened at my touch.
“Only me,” I whispered. She softened instantly, the tension deflating immediately.
“You really have to try it, Mary,” The young man bubbled. He would have been close to her age in his early twenties. Average build and height, rather plain looking if I was honest. But it was the way he looked at Mary as if she was the most important thing in the world to him. A ripple of jealousy ran through me but I was quick to shake it away. I was content not to fall in love. And I was hell bent on keeping it that way. That didn’t mean I never craved the feeling that someone saw me as they saw the sun. A bright and mysterious thing they couldn’t live without.
Stepping past Mary, I stepped off the stairs and further into the kitchen. My gaze focused on the floor. Not a single splattering of blood remained. Nothing to remind anyone of the horrors of that night. I tore myself from the spot and moved to the pastries on a plate in the centre of the bench. My mouth watered at the sight of a lemon tart as it teetered on the edge.
I took it before anyone could argue and moved out to the back lawn beyond the manor. A groundskeeper looked up from his post.
“Hello, young Lady Vespera!” He called. I smiled at him and waved back
“Good morning Gregory!”
“What brings you out back?”
“Would you aid me in something?” I smirked.
Gregory’s smile quirked at the side. His usual mischievous self shining through.
Gregory was an old friend of the family. His wife and daughters still lived in town but he journeyed out here day in and day out for thirty years to help out where he could.
“You busting out of here?” He whispered as I drew closer.
“You know me too well.”
Whilst Gregory saddled a horse, I stood watch, waiting to see if we would get caught. Many times, I had snuck out of the manor with Gregory using an excuse of me picking flowers in the forest. Once the horse was ready, I climbed upon its back and began my small journey into the forest.
The town was bustling as I trotted through the streets. People fluttered about like birds in the wild. Weaving in and out of shops in their ridiculous bonnets and dresses. Although some of them I did quite admire, I was never quite game to ask where they had purchased it.
I came to a halt outside a strange bookstore. The old storefront illuminated in the afternoon sun. Paint peeling off the owner’s hand painted sign. The store beyond beckoned me like an old friend. The door creaked as I entered, a loud bell sounding shortly after. Not a soul wandered through the aisles, bookstores were rare as it was. When did this one arrive here? Surely I would have noticed that before.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoed through the halls. Frowning, I moved forward, my hands ran over the various stationary lining shelves in the centre table. The room was only small but the multitude of titles filled the space just enough to feel cosy and not too cramped.
I looked along the volumes, stories ranging from romance to medical and encyclopaedias facing me. I wanted them all. To know all of the knowledge they held on their pages. To feel the facts and emotions in my soul. I looked toward the end shelf. A single book caught my attention. I drew near slowly, my heart beating in my chest. The cover was worn and torn in places. Black with a lighter pattern on the front. A flower of some sort. I narrowed my eyes. Looking closer at what it was but the leather was too badly damaged. The title was faint but still readable. The Cursed Life of Death .
My fingers shook ever so slightly as I opened the cover. The words handwritten on the page in an elegant scrawl.
“ For my sweet lost soul, ” The dedication read. I turned the page, masses of the same elegant scroll filled each page as well as small detailed sketches ranging from dancing to something more intimate, the words blurring together as I flicked through.
Warmth filled my cheeks. Was this a diary? I knew deep inside me that it would be wrong to read the diary of another person. But somehow the book pulled me in. As if it had tethered itself to me. I couldn’t put it down. I needed it. I needed to know what it was about and why it was all handwritten.
I called out again for the keeper of the shop. Again no one returned. I walked to the counter, placing an assortment of money on the counter. Hoping it would be enough to cover the cost.
The town had quieted down beyond the window. I stepped outside. The crisp autumn air tingling against my exposed neck. I stepped forward. The world teetered as a body slammed into me. Their hands wiping around my body, catching me before I hit the pavement. The scent of cedar and saffron filling my nose. I cringed at the scent. The smell warmed my entire body, awakening a deep need I kept buried far inside.
“I apologise, I didn’t see you there.” Maaier’s voice was full of concern until I faced him. Pulling myself from him. I slid the book into my satchel and stepped toward the horse.
“Vespera, what are you doing?” He hissed as he reached for me. His hands wrapped around me, pulling me close. My body met his and a rush of heat, his front warmed through my back into my entire being. I wrenched myself away despite the underlying draw to be close to him.
“Do not touch me, Maaier.” I warned over my shoulder. “The townsfolk already gossip about me enough. If you are seen with me that is deathwish enough on your social standing.”
“To hell with that,” He swore before coming close. I reached for the saddle, lifting myself to sit. Maaier’s strong hands gripped my waist. I revelled in the touch. Why did this do things to me?
I thanked him briefly before shifting slightly. In the blink of an eye, Maaier was seated behind me. My shaking body pressed against his. His arms wrapped around me, taking the reins from my grasp.
“Come, you little escaper. Back to your cell.” He teased.
I snorted, not knowing how to react. Not to the situation nor to the feel of his chest pressing against me.
“What were you doing in town anyway?” I asked. Swallowing thickly as I tried to avoid the intrusion prodding my behind.
“Am I not allowed to take a day off from being your keeper?” He pressed his chest to my back.
His breath fanned my ear. “Obviously not. You clearly love looking for trouble.”
Rolling my shoulders back, I taunted him over my shoulder. “Trouble has a way of finding me. Not the other way around.”
Maaier smirked in return. “Whatever you believe. But you and I both know you tempt trouble each and every day.”
I rolled my eyes and faced the road once more, pulling the reins, I moved down the road back home.