CH.24 A vision so deep red
The Queen was organizing a small picnic to forget the events of the previous day.
The servants spread colorful carpets in the rose garden, and on them placed comfortable cushions and golden trays with delicious dishes, tempting both the eyes and the nose.
Parasols protected the ladies from the harsh sun.
"Yesterday was terrible," said one of the ladies. "Those rebels ruined the whole tournament."
"When will the king do something about them? We are afraid to even leave the palace for fear they will attack us. The forests are full of them," said another lady.
"His Majesty the King is doing everything in his power. We already know the names of some of the rebels, and it is only a matter of time before those closest to them betray them for the high reward on their heads," said the Queen.
And Jace is one of them, Iris thought. She just hoped he disappeared after the massacre and didn't get into any more trouble.
"Those rebels are like a dangerous contagion. They're spreading throughout the kingdom. They're getting more and more numerous."
"I can assure you that they will soon no longer pose any threat."
"But you were very brave yesterday, Miss Anastasia." The ladies turned their attention to her.
"Indeed. I didn't even know you had it in you, Anastasia," Madam Tremaine told her. "You handled the sword like a soldier."
"I don't even know how it happened. It was instinct. I was just defending myself from that criminal, and suddenly, he was dead with a swing of the sword," said Iris.
"What a brutal act." The ladies were disgusted by the memory of blood and dead bodies.
"I'm still shaking."
"Please, let's stop talking about yesterday's disaster," the queen said to them. "This picnic is to drive those horrors from your minds, not to revive them. Let's think, for example, about the upcoming wedding."
"It's a big event that's expected. Will Princess Sofia be there?" Lady Isabella asked.
"Who is Princess Sofia?" Iris asked.
"The prince's older sister," her stepmother said, giving her a look like how she don't know such a trivial thing.
"So the prince named his dog after her? He must love her very much and he must miss her." she tried to cover up the awkwardness.
"His dog is called Tiberius," said the queen, her voice serious. "It would be an insult if he named his dog after his sister."
"I guess I was mistaken, Your Majesty." She smiled nervously.
The stepmother gave her daughter's mask a disappointed look. Iris took a humiliating sip of hot tea. She burned her tongue. The ladies hid their laughter behind their fans.
"And how are you practicing your wedding dance?" asked Duchess Josephine.
"The wedding dance?" Iris was taken aback. Another thing she knew nothing about.
"The traditional wedding sword dance, which you will perform before his Majesty and the entire court, Miss Anastasia. It is a tradition."
"Of course, tradition will not be broken," said the queen. "She practices every day and is doing well. The guards can lend you a sword so you can show the ladies what you have learned so far."
"I'd like to wait for that special moment." Iris tried to talk herself out of it. "I still don't feel very confident about my steps. I don't want to make a mistake."
"Iris..."she heard his voice again. As if he could sense her inner turmoil. "Iris..." Of course he could. And he wanted to take advantage of it. Again.
"Don't worry, Anastasia. You will definitely know it perfectly by the wedding," said the queen.
"Iris... Iris... Iris..."
"We won't bite you. We're friends," said the lady in the burgundy dress.
About as friendly as hungry ravens over a carcass, Iris thought.
"Iris... My Iris..."
As if on cue, Prince Edmund appeared. He was walking straight towards them. Iris ran to him and jumped into his arms. Prince Edmund hugged her tightly.
"It seems you missed me, love." He couldn't help but smile.
"You don't even know how much, my prince," she told him.
"Where did you run away from me last night?" he asked.
"I couldn't sleep. I went for a walk in the gardens. I needed some fresh air," she replied.
"Because of what happened yesterday?"
She nodded.
"You don't have to worry. I won't let them come near you ever again."
They returned to the picnic. The ladies looked away as they walked towards them as if they hadn't been closely watched the whole time.
"May I join you, ladies?" the prince gave them a charming smile.
"Of course," the queen told him. "The company of my favorite son is always welcome."
"I am your only son."
They laughed.
Iris rested her head on his shoulder. She was grateful he had come.
He had saved her from the throng of greedy ladies who had constantly tested her to failure.
Not even the enchantment in Anastasia's engagement ball dress could stop them from their malice.
And perhaps the spell itself could sense the truth that she was not her.
"But the truth is, I came to steal my bride from you. We deserve to be alone for a while," said the prince.
"She's all yours," the queen told him. "But stay a little longer and have dessert with us."
"I don't really like sweets. Anastasia can have mine," he said.
"I'm already full. I won't have any more either," she said.
"It's raspberry cake. Your favorite." Her stepmother gave her a suspicious look.
She had been suspicious ever since she saw her covered in blood. Anastasia wouldn't have done such a thing. She couldn't even hit her that day in the maze. Iris swallowed hard. Her stepmother would be watching her every move. She couldn't expose herself.
"I don't feel like eating after yesterday. I'm still a little shaken up about it," she said.
And the compassion from the moment they tried to kill her did not allow anyone to doubt her words.
They walked through the gardens. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower.
The bright sun was pleasantly warm. Their footsteps led them to a secret garden in the ruins of an old castle, where Prince Edmund had asked Anastasia for her hand in marriage during a ball.
Iris swayed gently. Her face turned to the heavens, she watched the rays of light filtering through the tangle of branches and leaves shimmering in the breeze.
Prince Edmund leaned his shoulder against the trunk of a tree and looked at her. His eyes smiled. Their gazes met.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Iris said. "What are you thinking about?"
"How beautiful you are and how glad I am to have you," he replied.
His words brought a smile to her face. "I'm luckier," she said.
"I like it when you smile. When I saw you struggling while sitting over tea with my mother, I had to go and save you."
"Thank you. You are my knight in shining armor."
"I realize that sometimes it can be difficult with my mother. She has too high expectations. I know that. She's always been like that. She's just a little too caring. You'll get used to it."
"That sounds like my mom. High expectations for my own good."
"But your mother loves me."
"Everyone loves you. But sometimes I feel like the Queen hates me."
He gracefully bounced off the tree. He approached her. He gently took her hand and pressed it to his chest. He gave her a sweet kiss, fragile as the first snow, so pure and innocent.
"She likes you, she just won't admit it. And what does it matter what other people think? The important thing is that I love you," he said.
"I love you, my prince," she said and kissed him.
But something about those words hurt her. As if it weren't true when she wasn't herself. As if it weren't true when she felt the snake wrapped around her finger and heard his voice in her head.
"Iris..."
?
When Iris returned to her chambers, she found an army of maids cleaning up Anastasia's mess.
"What are you doing here?" Her stomach clenched with terror.
"We're cleaning up, Miss." They bowed respectfully to her.
"Leave immediately!" she ordered them.
"But miss, we have orders to clean up here," said one of the maids. The others just watched in silence, not knowing whether to continue or leave.
"These are my chambers. I do not want anyone to come here outside my presence and without my permission. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss," they said in unison.
"Now leave!"
They did as she asked, as she commanded. She heard some of them mutter something about the mess in her chambers, what a bossy bitch she was. She didn't care. She slammed the door behind them and rushed into the bathroom to see if her prisoner was still in her place.
She almost broke the door down as she burst in.
Anastasia immediately became alert. Iris took a deep breath.
Everything was in its place. Anastasia was still bound, streaks of dried blood still decorated the marble floor.
But she lay slumped on the ground, obviously trying to alert the maids to her presence.
She wanted to call them to her for help.
Iris just hoped that none of them had found her there and were not going to tell the king.
They certainly hadn't discovered her, she assured herself.
She calmed down. She put on back the mask of stone, turning to face the bound Anastasia. She lifted her off the ground. She walked around her like a wolf around its wounded prey. She had nowhere to run. Not from her.
"I learned some very interesting information today, Anastasia. I have to admit, the thing about the dog named after the prince's sister was really funny. I almost laughed."
The calmness in her voice was almost eerie. It gave her goosebumps. Iris took the bloody knife from the sink and played with it in her hand.
"I'll tell you a joke too. I'll probably be the only one laughing, but it'll be very funny."
Anastasia already knew the sinister expression on her face. Her eyes widened in fear. She shook her head. She jerked. She wanted to beg for mercy, but her words were silenced. Iris plunged the knife into her thigh. Sharp pain shot through her body. A scream caught in her throat.
"I must admit you are smarter than I expected, dear stepsister. You almost did it. You almost got me."
She twisted the knife in the wound to open it up and cause even more pain.
"I'm afraid it didn't work out for you. I wanted to be nice to you, but you don't give me a choice. You want me to be mean, so I will be."
She pulled the knife from her leg and stabbed her again and again.
Over and over. She took out her anger on her, letting her bleed freely.
She felt a perverse pleasure in watching Anastasia resist the pain, how she wanted to scream, but her voice was stolen from her like she had stolen Iris's dreams. She thirsted for blood, and Anastasia became a plaything for her insatiable hunger.
Waterfalls of tears sprinkled her face. She was losing her breath. She dug her nails into her palms.
Maybe, after all, she was like Luc said.
Wicked inside. Suddenly, her whole childhood made sense.
Those cleansing rituals when she was little, dancing around the house with her mother, burning herbs.
It wasn't to banish the bad energy from the house but to try to banish the evil from her.
That seed she had planted in her. That was why she and Luc were so similar.
That was why she was so drawn to him. No more pretense.
Iris left a knife in her leg. She took off her stepsister's scarf that had been silencing her.
"Do you want to tell me something, Anastasia?"
"Please stop," she said in a weak voice. She sobbed. "Please."
She grabbed her by the throat. Her grip was strong but not enough to strangle her.
"That's exactly how it's supposed to be. Beg me for your miserable life," she said with venom on her tongue, silencing her again.
She pulled the knife out of her. She ended her suffering and sewed up the torn flesh. There was no sign that she had ever touched her. Only blood on the floor and her nightgown. She washed her hands of her blood.
"You know what's the funniest thing about this, Anastasia? I can do this over and over again, and I can always stitch you back together and keep doing it."
Still tied to the chair, she dragged her into the closet.
She couldn't stay in the bathroom any longer.
She had almost been exposed. Even the closet was only a temporary solution.
Sooner or later, she would have to come up with something.
She sprinkled salt around her. She drew the same symbols on the floor with chalk as on her parents' house.
If it could trap a demon, it could surely trap an evil stepsister, she told herself.
Her gaze fell on the dress that had started it all.
She had spent hours and days sewing it. One single glance awakened in her a rage and a grief she had not known was dwelling in her heart.
She tore the fabric of the dress, tore the peacock's tail from it.
"Ardeat!" escaped her lips. The dress burst into green flames and disintegrated into ash and dust.
"I will find a way to break the enchantment, and you and your mother will be punished when Prince Edmund finds out the truth."
Did she believe it at all? Did she believe more the words of the demon who told her it was impossible?
"Iris..." his voice still echoed in her mind.
He could sense when she was weak, when sadness and fear gripped her heart. And she heard him even in the moments when her soul was shrouded in darkness like his.
"Iris..."
She hid Anastasia behind a screen in case anyone wandered into the closet so they wouldn't see her. She couldn't afford to be exposed.