Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Igroaned, scooting along the floor to rest my back against the bed.
Muscles strained as I propped myself up to sit up properly.
My foot nudged the diamond shape vial inches away, the glass chiming dully across the floorboards.
It landed near the spine of the journal curled at the base of my thigh.
I picked the vial up, the taste of blood from the garden danced faintly upon my lips.
Without a single thought, I drank it. Icy cold raced through my veins, skin stitching itself back together and the pain eased into a phantom ache. I sighed, settling into a fraying body.
I had to solve it—solve everything. That very night.
I leafed through the journal once more, trying to find any clue that could solve the mystery and make sense of what was happening.
Cecilia, the shadows, and even the weird visions of the past yielded nothing coherent in leading me to the heart of the mysteries.
I had read through this multiple times to find Silas’s true name to come up with no leads.
Yet part of me knew the answer had to be there.
It was my only hope.
I held the journal tight, adjusting to the faint scrawling.
The last entry was written in terrible haste with some of the words not entirely printed onto the page properly.
Black ink smeared, as if the author’s shaky hand was becoming more and more unstable as he sat to write.
Occasionally, the stroke of the lettering changed with most of the cases happening in the middle of the word.
Then there were the matters of the stray letters tucked away into the flaps and the oddity of letters at the bottom of the correspondences.
I set the book on the desk, digging into the drawers for pen and paper. I hastily circled the capitalized letters, stringing them into a coherent name, ringing alarm bells inside of my head.
In the garden.
In the garden glared up at me, the dawning realization of what it referred to thrummed through me. Vi et animo. With heart and soul. The shadow’s riddles.
I worked quickly, unfolding the anagram before me until the conclusion reflected in the moonlit room on crumbling sheets. I sat in disbelief at the two little words, my own stomach dropping, connecting piece after piece of what I had to do—what needed to be done.
I shifted the empty vial in my hand, a plan forming as I stitched together the shadow’s riddle. I needed more time—time I no longer had. Squeezing my eyes shut, a knot forming as I sent up a prayer to anyone that’ll listen.
Please, let there be another ways this ends.
The door creaked open as two men staggered over each other to get through the doorway.
I shuffled the journal and the paper quickly into the drawer and spun around to greet the two men.
Both appeared brute and roguish. One of the burly men stood at the doorway, a shadow against the bright candlelight hallway, while the other one stepped into the room. The man had seen better days by the look of the eyepatch, scars, and open sores dotting his body.
He held out a box draped in a black ribbon. “Order from the master. He said to put this on for the ceremonies.”
The stench of infection rolled off him, smothering the room in sickness.
I crossed my arms, crinkling my nose in defiance. “And if I refuse?”
The one from the door piped up, sneering in delight. “He also said that you might say that. If you don’t want the dress, then he has given us the order to get you there any way possible, even if that means stripping you naked and having a little—fun.”
I snarled, taking the box. “Thanks, but no thanks. If that is all, leave me to change.”
The two looked on, the sickly one blushing as he averted his gaze whereas the one in the door was unfazed by my comment.
“Leave.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
Then there was silence, and I was left with the box.
I set it on the bed and carefully unwrapped it. In it lay a gown of silvery white and a white postcard with Miriam’s writing scrawled across the pristine paper.
A small wedding gift. Sorry, Valeria, for not being the sister you deserved.
I took the gown out, unsure of what she meant by small.
A knife clattered to the bottom of the box, simple and understated with the meaning of Miriam’s final words clear as day.
I clutched the blade to my chest. I did not know what this cost her to get this here, but this was a sound message.
This was her own attempt at making things right and, with that, a means to fight.
I readied myself, slipping the knife into my bodice letting a faint smile creep upon my lips. When the men finally come to collect me, I was sitting on the bed calmly with the same grin.
“What is with the funny look?” one asked with a grimace. “Finally change your tune?”
The cool blade pressed softly against my breast, the images of William’s death played through my head.
“You can say that.”
The ballroom was staged for the biggest charade and class act I would ever put on.
The musicians swayed solemnly, holding their instruments tight, beginning to slowly play the dread march.
Although it appeared that the ballroom was not where the ceremony was to be held.
No, William’s henchmen continued to guide me until we were to the double doors overlooking the garden.
One of William’s men’s arms was looped around me tightly, pressing into my body, forcing us forward.
The garden was draped in elegance, and beauty from the roses glinted as rubies at night.
At the end of the aisle, a priest from the town stood in audacious robes of white gold, pure as the snow that covered the grounds.
William stood to the priest’s left, smug and grinning villainously. I had thought the gods might have to smite him for the awful look crawling upon his face.
I shuddered against the wind. The snow had begun to coat the rose bushes in earnest, falling faster than the petals could bear, which fell weightlessly onto the cold ground, framing the aisle lit by the glow of the moon, staining everything in red.
I was unsure as to why William had opted for us to lure Silas outside rather than inside. The weather was less than ideal. Even the fog that kept to the roads crept its way into the garden and spooling smoky tendrils. It appeared the castle grounds, too, sensed the end nearing.
The men pushed us down the aisle, and I stumbled, only to be yanked back violently. The grip on my upper arm tightened, constricting painfully as each step brought me closer. I prayed that Silas stayed as far away from these people. I fear for not only my safety but for his.
Silas, if you can hear me, please know I-I love you.
The words echoed across my mind in the same way that all that time ago I had reached out beyond myself to see him again. I was armed with the will to fight and find his name to end whatever curse that held him captive.
I stood upon the altar, and William forcefully grabbed my hand, shoving a silver band onto my finger. The priest began mumbling the wedding prayer, his tongue stumbling on the words as William’s impatience was running out.
“Say the blasted words, Priest.”
The priest, taken aback, grumbled out, “Sir, there are procedures in the wedding rites.”
“I do not care about procedures. What I care about is taking what is mine.”
His fingers dug into my arm, and I let out a yelp as I struggled to remain upright, twisting my arm to try and get out of his wrists.
The knife sliced against my breast, twisting with me as I wrenched myself out of William’s grasp. His finger wrapped around my wrist, securing themselves into place. The little few words that came from the priest’s lips were ones I dreaded six months ago and even more so now.
“In the eyes of God, I pronounce you husband and—”
The wind grew stronger. Rose petals danced gracefully in a tornado of crimson, obscuring my vision of the garden, William, and the priest.
I was enveloped in a storm of red.
Gentle hands swept over William’s death grip, and long pale fingers wrapped around my wrist and my waist. In a flash, warm arms yanked me back from the altar, and cloves and spice sweetly tickled my nose. A deluge of petals dissipated to the sound of my heart beating a beautiful melody.
The priest cowered behind a rose bush, the old man shaking beneath his ropes. William was beet red and attempted to pull the man up by the collar as he pointed a shaky finger toward us.
“You!” he growled out.
Down upon the hand was a signet ring on his left, the familiar silver tungsten band.
I softened against him. “You came.”
Silas stroked the bruises on my wrist, a playful smile pressed against the back of my hand as he offered a kiss, responding, “You called.”
Tears welled, and I trembled against his embrace, enraptured by piercing gold dancing between regret and elation, the slender shape of his lips quirked in a serene smile, the crinkle of his brow and just him.
It was him.
“Silas, this is a trap. You need to run—now!”
William charged toward us, brandishing a knife. “I won’t let you.”
“Care to dance.” Silas swept me into his arm, spinning us to narrowly avoid the blade. William stumbled before charging forward again.
Silas’s grip tightened, dancing around William’s crazed slashing.
“I. Will. Not. Let. You. Have. Her.” He grunted between missed slashes.
Silas continued to gliding gracefully.
William called to his henchmen, “Don’t just stand there. Get him!”
The men joined in the dance. Silas’s movements quickened, avoiding the men’s careless attempts at grabbing me while William tried to get close.
I clung on to the collar of his button-down shirt before reaching down the front of my dress to the cool metal. “Silas,” I said softly as William’s cries of frustration echoed into the night. “I want you to let me down.”
Silas’s leg slammed down on one of the men’s skulls and then kicked the poor man into the other onto the hard pavement.
They groaned softly, both alive enough to be rendered unconscious and out of the fight, enraging William further.
He charged again at Silas.
“Little Dove, I do not think that is a good idea.”
I held the knife. The heavy weight of it in my palm gave me enough courage to see this through.
Silas’s eyes widened, mouth twisted into a small grin. “Never ceases to amaze me, Little Dove.”
Silas deflected a blow from William, sending us back toward the castle as he created the necessary distance between William and us.
William hunched over against one of the statues, clouds of ice spilling from his lips.
Disdain glinted high upon his brow. Silas set me down gently on the cobblestone at the very moment William caught his second wind.
“You whore, letting this monster taint you,” William spat, sauntering closer with the slim blade’s malicious glint bouncing off in silver light onto the statues.
“I could have given you everything, had you been a good little girl. I would have been a man of respect and power with you by my side had you not run off with a beast.”
I stood my ground, the knife flush against my thigh.
This man wanted my life in the worst way. To control me, to make me nothing more than a doll. I had been a doll for much of my life. To uphold the lie that began with my father, a lie that William had pursued to his own end goals.
William stood paces away from me, bloodlust suspended in the air.
I sensed Silas’s own uneasiness behind me.
William adjusted the knife high. “I could have given you everything. You brought this on yourself.”
William brought down his arm, arching it high above me.
He missed.
I plunged my own knife into his chest, stumbling into him.
“Same to you.”
The knife clattered to the ground with his gaze drawn toward his chest and the instrument of death protruding out from it. Blood spurted slowly from the wound, crimson coating my hand.
William gasped, pushing me away, dooming himself.
Blood swelled from the wound, a river of crimson coating the gray suit jacket in slick black.
William dropped to his knees, arm outreached as the realization of what I had done played across his face. “You fucking stabbed me. The bitch stabbed me.” He began to laugh, clutching at his chest, then slumped to his side, lifeless eyes casting their unfettered gaze to the ground.
The knife dropped from my hands, legs buckling underneath with the dawning realization of having just killed a man. Bile climbed my throat, staring at the lifeless body of William, the light draining from him.
Silas’s lean body wrapped itself around my shaking form, a hand resting on my hip as he pulled me upward. “Are you alright, Little Dove?”
I nodded, my gaze fixed to the splayed corpse. “I did not think it would come to this.”
“I know.”
I touched Silas’s cheek as my soft skin met with salty tears.
Silas’s rueful expression mirrored my own, of love and affection. Lips crashed against mine, a sweet poison expunged of all unearthly sins.
I cupped his cheeks, breaking the kiss with a heartfelt ache.
I ran my thumb across the softness of his lips.
I wanted to memorize his face, the firm edges and soft lines of his scars against my fingertips.
I leaned closer, letting my forehead touch his, praying he could not hear my thoughts expounding in sorrow.
I pulled away, grabbing William’s knife. “Ask me your question.”
Silas smiled gently, oblivious to what I’d found. “Valeria, do you want to guess my name?”
“I do.”
“Alright, Little Dove. Do not keep me in suspense.”
The pain written in those pages, the pain of the prince who had gone through hell after losing his beloved, the tragedy consuming his life and the life of his people.
Until he was nothing more than a stranger to himself in a castle full of ghosts.
All trapped by a curse woven by blood only to be unbroken by blood.
“Valeria.”
Silas’s worried voice snapped my attention back.
I gripped the knife, “Silas, I—”
I spat up blood, stumbling back. I drifted downwards to the crimson blooming across silver down at my abdomen. Rich scarlet soaked through the silvery gown with the steady stream dripping onto the courtyard, staining the snow.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Silas’s horrid expression shook with gold flares drifting far beyond the hole.
“No . . . Valeria!”
I dropped to my knees, Silas catching in his arms. He held his hands over the wound, attempting to staunch the bleeding the best he could.
I removed his hand, the fire burning across my flesh, racing against the clock. “Don’t . . .”
Laughter pulled me to where William’s body lay, traveling to a familiar face holding the knife stained in blood.
“Miss me?”
Silas’s expression darkened.
“Narcisa.”
Ayla’s lips curled. “Glad you remembered me after all these years.”