Chapter 23 Small Rebellions
Small Rebellions
Tonight was her night with Caspian.
He had saved her. She knew she had to be grateful. But by the gods, she had another sleepless night, plagued by nightmares.
On the gray sheets, Fiza had set out a dark red ball gown, the skirts flared out prettily on the bedspread. It was pretty, and usually she would have enjoyed dressing up in an extravagant gown, but the sight of the red strewn across pale satin sheets made her stomach turn—it looked like blood.
Elizabeth held up a pale pink satin gown for dinner, expressing her dismay at the dark, depressing colours Fiza always chose for her.
“What about this one?” Fiza pointed at the dress she had laid out and wrung her hands, “The Master prefers black, or darker hues.”
Elizabeth insisted, “I would like to wear this one tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”
“It’s certainly lovely, but we don’t have any jewellery to match that colour,” Fiza fretted. “Perhaps the black one from last week? We have plenty of onyx and silver jewels to match.”
“I have some jewellery from home.” She did not want to be rude to her only friend in the castle, but she needed to feel a measure of herself again, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being dressed in the same colour that swirled in their wine goblets.
Fiza bit her lip. “The Master—”
Elizabeth offered what she hoped was a reassuring look. “You can blame me if he asks.”
She donned the pink gown, and Fiza laced up the corset in the back. The dress was a masterpiece of pale pink satin, with puffed sleeves and skirts, that flowed behind her in a short train.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, smiling.
“Nothing to thank me for, Lady. My job is to help you,” Fiza assured her.
“Yes, but I still appreciate your help.”
Fiza blinked, raising her brows, as if surprised at her sincerity. “Not at all.”
Elizabeth adorned her ears with pink tourmaline drops from her dwindling trove of jewellery from home, and Fiza swept her hair into an artfully braided style, leaving a few pieces out to frame her face.
Her hair was shorter and darker now, and she looked paler, but in the pink gown, she looked more like her old self than she had in some time.
Entering the hall, she was treated to Caspian, alone, his eyes widening at her appearance.
He knew it was their night together, too, so she watched as he took in her attire and frowned.
He stood from his chair and walked over to her.
Caspian bowed deeply, a greeting fitting for a daughter of high nobility. A gentlemanly thing to do, but one that felt out of character for him.
Straightening, he took her hand and kissed her fingers, eyeing her curiously.
He pulled her chair out for her, and she sat, smoothing her skirts.
“Nice dress.”
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the compliment and choosing not to explain her decision to forgo the gowns he had given her.
He drank his goblet of blood, and she dined on roast venison.
She speared a potato with her fork and thought of a ballad she knew, repeating the words over and over in her mind.
He had let slip that such a thing would prevent demons from reading her thoughts, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to try.
Over and over, she recited the ballad, but no attack on her mind came.
She glanced at him and found him staring at her as if she had something on her face—had he noticed she was trying to keep him out of her thoughts?
But he said nothing, so she ignored him and finished her meal in silence.
“Thank you for dinner. It was lovely,” she said, pushing her plate to the side.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, his voice wooden.
She was quiet and waited for him to finish the last of his goblet before rising from the table.
“So, tell me. What have you learned during your study of my library? Surely, you have read half the books in there by now?”
She drew back in her seat, surprised he was taking a stab at conversation. “No, I haven’t read them all yet. There must be thousands.”
He leaned forward in his seat. “Well. I’m glad there’s someone here who enjoys them.”
She frowned, confused as to why he was being nice to her and seeming, for all the world, like he was actually interested in speaking with her.
“Don’t tell me you have all those books and have never read them?” she teased, knowing full well he wasn’t a big reader.
Caspian sipped from his goblet. “Ah, I’m afraid so. I haven’t read many of them. I just buy them and add them to the collection.”
Amused, she leaned forward and smiled. “Hmm ... In that case, I’ll tell you that you have some good titles for someone who doesn’t like to read.”
“I should double what I pay my servant who does the shopping for me then. Is the library your favourite part of the castle? You seem to spend most of your time there.” He wasn’t smiling, but he was certainly giving her a less hostile expression than usual.
She drank a sip of water from her crystal goblet, her fingers tensing on the stem. Something about him taking an interest in her today didn’t sit right. Quietly, she said, “Yes, I believe it is.”
“Did you have a library at home?”
“We did, but it was not nearly as big. We had a few shelves of books and a study, hardly enough to be considered a library.” She smiled. “And you? What is your favourite place in the castle?”
He swirled his goblet and glanced at the ceiling, contemplating. “The view from the second-tallest tower. You can see the best view of the mountains from there.”
She flicked her gaze at his goblet—a chilling reminder that no matter how he spoke to her, he was still a monster in every sense of the word.
“Ah, yes, I’m sure the view would be spectacular there, especially on a clear day, but I haven’t explored there yet.”
“I’ll show it to you sometime.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “I’d like that.”
“Perhaps now.”
“Er.”
He rose from the table and extended his hand.
“Sure,” she said to her own surprise, rising to join him.
Before she knew it, Caspian was escorting her upstairs towards his favourite haunt in the castle. They walked past a familiar set of embellished double doors, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but ask, “Where do those lead?”
She knew full well they led to the mysterious, unused ballroom that made Caspian angry.
“It’s a ballroom,” he said, his face turning sour.
“Really? I haven’t seen the ballroom here yet,” Elizabeth said carefully.
“No one goes in there,” he said stiffly.
Perhaps she liked to play with fire, or perhaps wearing one of her favourite gowns had given her false confidence, because she couldn’t resist needling him further. “What a shame that is! Why not?”
“Because.” His tone was sharp.
They reached a large curving staircase that spiraled up the centre of a tower, and he gestured for her to go first. He was a dark presence behind her as they ascended the stairs. Caspian seemed to never tire, but her legs grew leaden, burning with the effort.
They came to a pair of snarling stone gargoyles that flanked a set of open doors.
Her breath caught in her throat as she entered the most beautiful terrace she had ever seen, bordered by an intricate iron railing.
She stepped out into the dusk air, brimming with awe. She soaked in the view of sprawling mountains and water in the distance. The rain from earlier had fled the skies, leaving behind an orange sunset that rippled through the clouds.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
“I think so too,” he replied, placing his hands on the railing near hers.
It was odd—he had nearly seen every inch of her body, and yet, his nearness felt strange and forbidden. As if outside of her chambers, they were still complete strangers.
The closeness of his hand to hers made her breath quicken.
She eyed his fingers and knew if she asked him to hold her hand on this romantic terrace, it meant admitting he meant something to her. She blinked at the thought and tightened her grip on the railing, if only to stop herself from touching his hand.
Caspian was facing forward, his attention on the view.
She followed his lead, and they spent several minutes drinking in the view. They were two lost souls, staring at the mountains and the sea, trying to make sense of it all.
She wondered if demons even had souls, or if their hearts were nothing but empty husks.
“Do you miss home?” Caspian asked her suddenly.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Yes and no.”
He turned to her. “Explain.”
For some reason, she felt they had entered some strange new territory tonight. She still didn’t completely trust him, but she didn’t mind answering him truthfully. It was an innocent topic after all.
So, she said, “I miss my father. I miss going for walks through the flower fields and going for lunch in the city. I miss my friend Charlotte.” She smiled. “But I don’t miss being at court in the social season.”
Caspian smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes.
She had never seen him smile before—it opened up his features and made him seem much more human.
“Come now, everyone fawning all over you? All the young men tripping over themselves to ask you to dance, and all the young ladies simply green with envy? The social season must be dreadful for you.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, but my mother was a nightmare at court functions. She was constantly telling me not to eat things to maintain my figure and fussing over every inch of my appearance. And you can’t smile too openly, or everyone will think you aren’t a proper lady. It can be exhausting.”
“You miss your father, but not your mother? Your father, I recall, was the principal reason for this whole affair.” He gestured between the two of them.
“My father is a good man,” she countered.
“My mother was always my chaperone at court outings, but we didn't have very much in common. My father could be a bit of a cold fish sometimes, but I had much more in common with him. We used to spend our evenings reading in the sitting room together while my mother played the piano.” She smiled wistfully at the memory.