Braxton pulls away from me, his dark eyes searching mine. “So, you’re staying?” There’s so much worry creasing his forehead that I can’t help but reach up and smooth the lines away.
“You’re my home, Braxton. I don’t belong anywhere but with you.”
Epilogue
Azalea
1 year later
One century is a remarkably long time to hoard useless things. It boggles my mind the amount of stuff Braxton and I have collected when, for the majority of our existence, we never left this castle.
I huff out a breath, blowing a few stray curls out of my face, as my fingers skim through more weathered and yellowed documents in the confines of Braxton’s desk.
When my curls fall back in front of my eyes, I frustratedly push them under the scarf tied around my head, holding back the rest of my mane of curls. My hair has gotten exceedingly long in the last year, falling to almost my mid-back. I should cut it, but every time I contemplate doing so, Braxton reminds me about how I love the feeling of his fingers running through my hair, especially when he knots his fingers through my curls and tugs my head back.
My core tightens at the thought, and I quickly shake it from my head and focus back on sorting through Braxton’s files.
We decided about a week ago that it was time for us to leave the castle. We have no idea what to expect of the world out there after we’ve been trapped in here for a century, but we can’t keep hiding away. Slowly but surely, all of the staff began to leave once they learned the curse was lifted. Some left immediately, while others waited, helping me and Braxton get our things in order and teaching us certain maintenance aspects of the castle and its landscape.
Rhoden was the last to leave, and I all but had to shove her out the door. She always had a traveler’s heart, and she had no business staying stuck within the confines of these stone walls any longer. The only way I was able to convince her to finally go live her own life was by assuring her that we would meet back at the castle in a year’s time to plan our own trip to travel together.
After about a month of having the castle to ourselves, Braxton and I decided it was time for a new adventure. We were going to start by traveling back to Blushing Bay, where all my dreams of traveling the world started. I want to see what’s become of my homeland in the century I’ve been away.
We also didn’t have much of a choice but to leave after we accidentally killed our gardens and ran out of the limited stock of food we had. We’ve spent the last week trying to get as much of the castle in order, going through and discovering what we do and don’t need to bring with us.
My fingers stall when it comes across a document I’ve seen before. A document that a year prior looked very different when I turned Braxton’s entire study upside down, trying to find it. I gingerly grasp the paper and hold it closer to my face.
This is the contract of the curse that Braxton made with Dianthus. It must have been charmed in some way to blend in with all the other documents Braxton had in his drawers so that I wouldn’t notice it. Tucking my feet underneath me, I lean my back against the nearby wall as my eyes start skimming over thewords. I can’t stop myself from reading through it over and over again.
Just as I finish my fifth or sixth reread of the document, I hear a gentle knock on the door.
“I did my best to try and make some kind of food. I think it’s edible, but—” Braxton stops when he sees me huddled in the corner of his study with the document.
“I found the contract you made with Dianthus. The original one,” I state this as if he hasn’t already figured that out, but I feel like my brain is still catching up with what I just read. For so long, I craved to know the parameters of the curse, and even after having all of my memories fully restored, I still find myself shocked by its contents.
Braxton stiffens, slowly setting the food down on his desk.
“Azalea,” he says my name on a sorrowed sigh, and I know he’s more than ready to have our troublesome past buried. But the questions inside of me are too loud, begging to be set free.
“I haven’t gotten my three questions in a long time.”
His lips lift in a ghost of a smile.
“Can I use them now?”
Without answering, he joins me on the ground, moving close enough so that our legs brush against each other, but not pulling me into his lap as he usually would.
“You could have left?” I waste no time in getting to the question that plagues me the most after reading the contract he drafted with Dianthus.
“Are you sure you want to make your question so broad. I could simply answer yes and then that’s one question all used up,” he teases. His arm skates around my waist and tucks me closer to him. I narrow my eyes, before pointing to the clause I’m referencing in the contract.
“It says that if you chose to leave me, she wouldn’t have stopped you. If you told her you had had enough and that you were done, you could have walked right off the castle grounds. ”
“That’s not really a question, Wildflower.”
“After centuries of enduring me hating you, you still chose to stay trapped in the castle with me instead of restarting your life with someone else. You could have been freed from the torment, and I would have been none the wiser.”
I know it’s not a question, but my inquiry is hidden in my statement. Every minute, day, week, month, and year of that century he spent here with me was completely by his choice.
