Chapter 3 #2
Rhoden smiles, slightly thinning her pouty lips.
With an over exaggerated roll of her eyes she plops on my bed, barely making the mattress dip beneath her.
Rhoden and I are physically opposite in almost every way possible.
While I have a bountiful fill of curves lining my body, she has a beautifully crafted, long, lean frame.
Where I have a bronzed complexion, she has a milky one.
Where I have wrinkles etched into my forehead from scowling, she has the subtlest hint of smile lines.
“Don’t I always?” Using the pointed tip of her fingernail, she stabs into a strawberry before bringing it to her lips.
“Hey!” I shoo her hands away from the food. “You know I’m starving after not having supper last night.”
“That was your choice. I brought up more food for you. I even snatched it right out Marita’s hands so you didn’t have to deal with her lecture.” She wrinkles her enviable little button nose at me.
She’s right of course. Marita is the head cook of the castle, and when her food goes uneaten she takes it personally. Since I often storm out of supper without finishing my meal, I’m not one of her favorite people. The last time she had to bring food into my room she practically force fed me.
“I know, but I didn’t want to give Braxton the satisfaction,” I grumble, leaning back in the desk chair and taking a more aggressive bite of my pastry.
“Yes, because he absolutely would have known if you decided to take a few extra bites of the fresh steak that was brought up to you.”
I shrug my shoulders. “He monitored me enough to close the library,” I huff and cross one leg over the other at the same time as I twine my arms across my chest. “I can perfectly picture his stupid, satisfied at seeing me give in.”
“Give in and what? Eat? I hate to break it to you, Zel, but everyone needs food.” Rhoden stands up and opens the doors to my massive wardrobe before starting to sift through the dresses.
I glare at the back of her head. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m on the ‘Azalea stays alive and doesn’t yell at me because she’s hungry’ side.” Rhoden glances at me over her shoulder with a twinkle in her deep green eyes. “And unfortunately, a growing girl like you does need food to accomplish that task.”
I scoff, sidling up next to Rhoden to help her sift through the dress options I have for today.
Each day, between the time when I’m finished getting ready for supper and before I inevitably stomp back to my room for bed, my entire wardrobe is switched out with an array of new dresses.
Only when I really love a gown will I pull it out to make sure it’s not taken with the rest. They’re then stored in my other wardrobe so as to make sure they never get taken for me to never see again.
Of all the things I hate about being in this castle, getting to dress in lavish gowns definitely is not one of them.
“Growing girl? I’m old enough to have a growing girl.
You know I could be a mother. I could be out there starting a family, starting my family, but instead, I’m trapped in here.
” I know Rhoden made her comment in jest, but I have to turn my head away to keep her from seeing the hurt that shadows my face.
Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head toward the ceiling and will the tears stinging my eyes to fall back into them.
I made a promise to myself on the first day that I got here that I would not cry.
Not because I thought it would make me appear stronger, but because I feared that if I ever let myself start, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“You know, I think I saw Gravesley unlocking the library while I was making my way up.” Rhoden’s voice is careful as she delivers this news.
My ears perk at her words, and I whip my head around to look at her.
Feigning being oblivious to my excitement, Rhoden pulls a casual daytime dress from my wardrobe and lays it on the bed.
It has a ruby skirt that blends up into a white off-the-shoulder, long-sleeve top, with a brown leather corset that cinches over it.
“This is a lovely dress,” she states, looking at me with a beaming smile.
“Forget the dress. Did you say Gravesley was opening the library?” I make no attempt to hide my budding enthusiasm at this news.
“It might have just been temporarily, but yes, that’s what I saw.”
I all but throw my silk robe off my shoulders and start scrambling to weasel my way into the dress.
“Azalea!” Rhoden exclaims, and I feel her delicate hands begin to tug the dress over my head.
“Hurry up! I want to see if I can get into the library before Gravesley closes it again.”
“Slow down, you’re going to rip the seams,” Rhoden scolds, her nimble fingers working quickly to undo the buttons that are ready to burst free from the dress.
Ignoring her, I continue my thought. “I think if Braxton felt the need to close up the library, that means I must have been getting close to figuring something out with this curse.” My words are muffled beyond the layers of dress that are being pulled over my head, but Rhoden is able to hears what I’m saying nonetheless.
“Let me at least do your hair before you go,” she pleads as she quickly ties the laces to the brown corset.
Dipping my head so that I can see my reflection in the mirror on the desk, I notice that my wild mess of curls is looking particularly untamed after wrestling with this dress.
For a moment, I can understand the infuriating nickname, Wildflower, that Braxton bestowed upon me after I arrived at the castle.
“Fine, but quickly,” I snap, swiftly taking a seat in the cushioned chair stationed at my vanity.
Rhoden makes quick work of collecting my curls and pulling them away from my face. She then grabs a white linen scarf and secures it atop my head to hold my curls back, allowing for a few rogue strands to fall into my face.
She takes a triumphant step back to admire her handy work, but I’m already hopping out of the chair and heading toward the door.
“Thank you,” I manage. I’m about to shut the door when I catch the hair-raising smell of the flowers still adorning my bedside table.
Turning back around, I give Rhoden an apologetic look.
“Oh, and Rhoden, can you…” I let my question drift off and point toward the vase of forget-me-nots still on my bedside table.
Tracking my movements, she smiles and nods.
“I will take care of them,” she says matter-of-factly. “By the time you come back to your room, it’ll be like they were never here.”
And with that promise, I close the door behind me and head toward the library, silently praying that the doors will open.