Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head toward the ceiling and will the tears stinging my eyes to fall back into them. I made a promise to myself on the first day that I got here that I would not cry. Not because I thought it would make me appear stronger, but because I feared that if I ever let myself start, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“You know, I think I saw Gravesley unlocking the library while I was making my way up.” Rhoden’s voice is careful as she delivers this news.
My ears perk at her words, and I whip my head around to look at her. Feigning being oblivious to my excitement, Rhoden pulls a casual daytime dress from my wardrobe and lays it on the bed. It has a ruby skirt that blends up into a white off-the-shoulder, long-sleeve top, with a brown leather corset that cinches over it.
“This is a lovely dress,” she states, looking at me with a beaming smile.
“Forget the dress. Did you say Gravesley was opening the library?” I make no attempt to hide my budding enthusiasm at this news.
“It might have just been temporarily, but yes, that’s what I saw.”
I all but throw my silk robe off my shoulders and start scrambling to weasel my way into the dress.
“Azalea!” Rhoden exclaims, and I feel her delicate hands begin to tug the dress over my head.
“Hurry up! I want to see if I can get into the library before Gravesley closes it again.”
“Slow down, you’re going to rip the seams,” Rhoden scolds, her nimble fingers working quickly to undo the buttons that are ready to burst free from the dress.
Ignoring her, I continue my thought. “I think if Braxton felt the need to close up the library, that means I must have been getting close to figuring something out with this curse.” My words are muffled beyond the layers of dress that are being pulled over my head, but Rhoden is able to hears what I’m saying nonetheless.
“Let me at least do your hair before you go,” she pleads as she quickly ties the laces to the brown corset.
Dipping my head so that I can see my reflection in the mirror on the desk, I notice that my wild mess of curls is looking particularly untamed after wrestling with this dress. For a moment, I can understand the infuriating nickname, Wildflower, that Braxton bestowed upon me after I arrived at the castle.
“Fine, but quickly,” I snap, swiftly taking a seat in the cushioned chair stationed at my vanity.
Rhoden makes quick work of collecting my curls and pulling them away from my face. She then grabs a white linen scarf and secures it atop my head to hold my curls back, allowing for a few rogue strands to fall into my face.
She takes a triumphant step back to admire her handy work, but I’m already hopping out of the chair and heading toward the door.
“Thank you,” I manage. I’m about to shut the door when I catch the hair-raising smell of the flowers still adorning my bedside table. Turning back around, I give Rhoden an apologetic look. “Oh, and Rhoden, can you…” I let my question drift off and point toward the vase of forget-me-nots still on my bedside table. Tracking my movements, she smiles and nods.
“I will take care of them,” she says matter-of-factly. “By the time you come back to your room, it’ll be like they were never here.”
And with that promise, I close the door behind me and head toward the library, silently praying that the doors will open.
4
Azalea
IgroanasIdrop my forehead against the library’s heavy oak doors. I’ve been yanking on the intricately detailed golden doorknobs to no avail. The beautiful room of books is still locked tight. My fingers have practically memorized the feel of the roses and ivy pattern swirling around the latched handle as I half-heartedly give it another tug. Loosing a breath, I feel a few of my curls fall free from the scarf securing my hair behind me as I rhythmically tap my head against the door in defeat.
I secretly want to curse Rhoden for getting my hopes up, but I know that isn’t fair. She was probably trying to cheer me up from my foul mood that has only continued to fester since the previous night. Whatever her intent, I know Rhoden is the least malicious person in this castle. She also happens to be my only friend in here, and subsequently is responsible for saving me from the brink of insanity on several occasions.
As my fingers slip from the knob, and I take a step back, I hear a soft shuffling noise inside. My eyes stretch wide, and I eagerly press my ear to one of the panels of the door to try to better hear what is happening on the other side.
With my impatience rising, I ball my hand into a tight fist and bang it against the library door, listening to the echo of the knock ring up and down the deserted hallway.
“Gravesley, is that you in there?” I make sure my tone is both kind and firm. I can only assume it’s Gravesley in the library because Braxton typically chooses him to do the tasks he doesn’t deem worthy of his precious time. “Can you let me in? There were a couple of books I was hoping to bring into the courtyard and read today.”
A lie. A dirty lie that I hate telling Gravesley. He is the epitome of an older father figure, with his weathered complexion etched with the years of expressions from a happy man. I haven’t quite figured out how he got stuck here, but then again, I haven’t given much thought to how any of the servants became trapped here the same way I have. I can’t help but wonder if one day Braxton will bring back a new shiny toy, and I, too, will become one of the servants performing menial tasks around the castle. It makes sense. They all seem to hate him plenty, where I wouldn’t find it hard to believe that’s something he does.
“Just a moment Madam Azalea.”
I soften at the title. Since finding my footing after being trapped here, I have implored that all the staff refer to me only as Azalea, as I never garnered any title from my island back home. When I found out Braxton wanted me to be referred to as a lady or princess of the castle, I adamantly refused. If I were given the title of lady ofhiscastle, that would make mehis, and I detested the thought of being seen in such a way. The servants adjusted to my request fairly quickly, except for Gravesley, who feared that referring to me by my first name would be too improper. His one compromise was giving me the title of “madam” instead of “lady” or “princess.” I was apprehensive at first, but when I found out Braxton hated it, I happily agreed. Spite could be so intoxicatingly compelling sometimes.
A few moments later, I hear the door unlocking, and I take a step back, allowing Gravesley room to pull the door open. A worn smile crinkles his features and warms his coffee-colored eyes.
