Chapter 10. Birthday. #2
In the box sat a whetstone, its corner decorated with an engraving I couldn’t read from where I sat.
“Thank you, I certainly needed one, since Caleb took my fancy whetstone when he ran.” Francis put the whetstone into his pocket before opening the bottle of wine Simon gifted him. “I hope we don’t get poisoned." He poured everyone a glass.
“We might!” Simon shrugged, finishing his drink in one gulp.
“Oh, Moon...” Florence sighed, studying the contents of her drink.
“May I play?” Ash put the drink aside, pointing at the piano.
“Please!” Francis nodded at them, filling my goblet.
The piece Ash chose to play was foreign to my ears, yet certainly fit the gathering. A playful, yet mysterious melody echoed throughout the room. Their fingers skillfully ran across the keys, a smile spread on their lips.
Roxanne and Florence got up for a dance; Simon watched Ash play with a softness in his eyes I’d never seen before.
“Sorry I came emptyhanded,” I whispered to Francis when he offered me the drink, taking a seat next to me. “I didn’t know it was your birthday until last night.”
“You being here is the best present.” Francis winked.
The wine in my goblet smelled divine. Rich as a forest after the rain, and sweet as spilled honey. It tasted just as fine; soft notes of apples and grapes warmed my throat.
My sister would have loved it.
“I should go,” I whispered to Francis, setting the still full goblet on the table. “I’m sorry.”
Before he could reply, my legs carried me out of the ballroom, all the way up the stairs.
Up and up, until there was nowhere else to go.
The stairs ended abruptly, turning into a narrow corridor with a small wooden door waiting at the end.
The old floors creaked as my legs carried me towards the opening. The door screeched at my touch.
Blinded by the moonlight, my heart beat faster from its beauty.
Every wall of this tiny room was a window that reached the floor. The ceiling was made out of clear glass, allowing the moonshine to dance in its stained paintings.
I dropped to the floor; my knees crying from the impact, yet the pain was numbed by the beauty of the Moon.
Glorious.
I reached out for the shine to dance on my gloved hands, each color reflecting on the ivory fabric.
The Moon smiled down at me, despite my hatred towards her unkindness.
The music could not be heard from here, yet it still played in my mind, spinning my head drunk.
The skies were clear of storms, the cold winter retreated its spells for the night. I lay on the cold floor, counting the stars. When I reached a hundred, the door creaked open.
“There you are,” Francis lay beside me, the moonlight playing upon his sharp cheekbones.
“What are you doing here?” My voice turned hoarse. “You should be celebrating.”
“I would rather be here.” He glanced at me through his long lashes.
“Besides, my dancing partner is up here, and it was decided it was time for dance.” When I stayed silent Francis cleared his throat.
“I sent the letter to Barren last night,” his voice dropped a few octaves.
“He usually takes his time with a reply, but expect to go to Silverstone next week.” His voice shone with disapproval.
“It’s better than breaking into the palace with a map older than the dawn of time,” I argued.
“I thought you were desperate to break into the palace just a week ago.”
I still was; not without a plan, however.
“I cared not for my own life.” I managed a shrug.
“Do you care for your life now?” Francis asked softly.
“Not if it’s a necessary death,” I admitted.
“Your death can never be necessary." Francis’ fingers reached for my cheek. His skin touched mine for a brief moment before he retreated, as though remembering himself.
I swallowed as our small proximity crashed upon me, squeezing my lungs tight.
As though reading my thoughts, Francis sat up, putting some distance in between us. “I brought you some cake.”
The dark brown piece of cake sat on a crystal plate, small strawberries decorated its top. The human blood spilling over it spun my head; nausea slowly crept in alongside the demanding, evil beast.
“I don't fancy sweets.” I averted my gaze from the dessert, breathing through my mouth.
“Oh, no?” Francis’ lips curved. “I will make sure we have no sweets on your birthday, then.” He winked, though his eyes darkened, seeing through my weak lies. “When is your birthday?”
“Right after the harvest.” I cleared my throat, fighting with the beast that corrupted my thoughts one by one.
“I always fancied autumn’s full Moons.” Francis nodded, taking a spoonful of cake. “They have this reddish hint to them that reminds me of my father’s eyes.” Francis’ lips tugged into a smile at the memory.
My throat scratched with every breath I took, my eyes kept glancing at the bloody dessert. My hands trembled.
“He always took me to the lake near our cabin on my birthday.” Francis took another spoonful, his teeth now wore crimson. “My father,” he clarified.
“What happened to him?” I dared to ask, though all I was consumed by was the unbearable sharp pain in my stomach.
Francis merely shook his head. “Not tonight,” he whispered, a sad smile tugging on his lips.
I looked out the window, avoiding the sight of blood on Francis’ lips.
“Cordelia.” Francis put down the plate, blood dripped down onto the floor. “When was the last time you’ve fed?” He crooked his head to one side.
“I’ve fed.” I swallowed the burn in my throat.
“That wasn’t the question.” He inched closer. “You haven’t had any blood the whole night.”
“I’ve had enough with my bath.” I started to my feet, yet Francis’ hands caught mine.
“That was yesterday.” Francis’ eyes bored into mine for answers he’d already had. “You won’t be able to kill Kane if you let yourself starve—” The words died on his tongue at my flinch. “Cordelia, I know it’s not easy—”
“Don’t.” I pushed his hands away; gathering to my feet, I charged towards the door. “I am rather tired, I should go.”
“No.” Francis moved to the threshold, blocking my pathway. “Let me help you.” His fingers slipped under my chin, gently pushing my head up to meet his gaze.
“I need no help,” I protested, though the beast froze my body into submission. The smell of blood on Francis’ breath dared me for a kiss. “No,” I told the beast, yet the burning in my throat increased, spreading through my body.
“It’s all right.” Francis nodded, his free hand started to unbutton the top of his shirt.
“What in the Kingdom are you doing?” My voice turned dreamy at the mercy of the beast’s demands.
“If you don’t wish for human blood, take mine,” Francis whispered.
“Francis—” As though a spell was broken, my body came alive anew. I shook my head; the beast within me rebelled.
“I will keep you safe, remember,” Francis spoke, his voice turning soft. “You will always be safe with me, I swear it.”
My eyes planted on the open skin. His heartbeat quickened under my gaze when his free hand wrapped around my waist, keeping me upright.
“I cannot.” I leaned against his chest, my lips close to his exposed throat.
“It’s all right.” He ushered me closer. “You can’t hurt me.”
My body trembled, my eyes shut. I cannot. I cannot—
“Look at me.” Francis caressed my cheek; my eyes flew open, obeying. “You are safe with me, and you can’t hurt me. I will not let anything happen to you, I swear it.”
“Francis—” I breathed, my lips feeling the soft skin without my permission.
“Shush, my Princess.” His hand crooked around the back of my neck. “You are safe with me,” he whispered as my teeth pierced his skin.
The first drop of blood spilled onto my tongue like fine wine, melting into my throat. I wished to protest the beast that had woken within me. I wished to stay in Francis’ hands forever.
Francis cradled the small of my back, sending lightning down my spine. His blood spilled into my mouth, calming my aching throat, calming my mind.
My knees weakened as Francis slid down the wall, his hands keeping me from collapsing. “Just like that.” A smothered moan pushed past his lips when my hands reached for the collar of his shirt, holding on as though my life depended on it. “Good girl,” his voice turned hoarse.
A muffled moan forced its way from the depths of my throat as the flower’s thorns—deep in my stomach—wrapped around my insides. His hands tightened their hold around me as I sat between his legs, my teeth buried in his flesh.
“Francis,” I drawled against his neck, my tongue catching every drop of blood mixed with my saliva.
“Take more,” he commanded; his thumb felt my lips before pressing them back to his injury. “Take more, darling.”
My teeth dug into his flesh, my tongue traveled across his skin.
The beast sang triumphant serenades as my body melted into his embrace; my mind quieted like the autumn’s skies before a storm.
“Just like that, Princess.”