“Very much alive,” I provide again.
Gravesley nods. “Am I losing my mind?”
I let out a laugh, but it’s hollow and completely devoid of any humor. “If you are, then you can join the club because that means I lost my mind ages ago.”
After a quick promenade through the castle, it became abundantly clear that Gravesley was the only one who had his memories return. The outright disdain that was shown to me by my servants when they thought I wasn’t paying attention was proof enough of that.
At least I have Gravesley, though, who is now, more or less, refusing to leave my side. It’s probably for the best. The old man looks like he’s seen a ghost and is terrible at hiding it.
I have someone, though. For the first time in a century, I have someone who knows the whole truth and won’t forget it upon going to bed. And for whatever skyforsaken reason, he’s actually on my side with it. Even though no matter how you twist the truth, I will always be the villain in Azalea’s story.
34
Braxton
Mypalmsareclammyas I stand outside the dining hall. I feel like a damned coward. I’ve been standing in front of these doors working up the courage to step inside. I know she’s in that room already. I know she’s waiting for me. I know when I walk in, I’m going to see a burning hatred in her eyes. The only thing I don’t know is if I’m ready to face that again.
Having to watch her loathing for me freshly bloom every time her memory is wiped clean has been one of the worst parts of this entire curse. While her eyes flicker with hatred, my heart ignites with unrequited adoration. A scorching love that mars me every time we have to restart this painful journey. I used to wonder how many times someone could get burned before they learned their lesson. The answer is more than I ever believed I could. Now, I’m forced to ponder how much of myself I’ve lost in the process. Piece after piece has been flayed from my soul and left to shrivel and wither away, and still through it all, I will never stop loving her. I only wish I could tell her as much.
Physically shaking myself as if that could rid these treacherous thoughts from the recesses of my mind, I push the doors open.Just as I thought she would be, Azalea is sitting there, and to my surprise, so is the mangy mutt she’s devoted herself to.
“Nice dog,” I clip before taking my seat.
I brace myself for her heated response, but I’m met with silence, which is far worse. I would rather she scream at me, and I fear her silence is profoundly louder.
When I gather the courage to pick my gaze up and look at her, I see that her complexion is almost sickly. The vibrancy that is usually filling her honey eyes is dull, and neither her cheeks nor lips are filled with the tantalizing blush they usually have.
“What happened?” I jump to my feet, not caring how crazed she believes me to be. After all, to her, this is our first dinner together.
She blinks herself out of her daze, before lifting her eyes to me. When our stares collide, I stop in my tracks. There’s a ghost swimming in her vision, haunting her, but with what I can’t tell. I watch, partially mesmerized, as her slender fingers lift to run across her bottom lip. Though her leering irises still rest on me, her eyes are a whole world away.
“Azalea.” My voice is soft as I try to bring her back to me. Her finger curls slightly, pressing her nail into her bottom lip. “Wildflower,” I gently press.
Hearing her nickname seems to do the trick in pulling her back to me. I watch as her entire demeanor snaps to attention.
“You shouldn’t have kissed me last night.”
My head rears back, shock ricocheting through my system.
“What did you say?” My voice is barely audible, and I’m sure I must have misheard her.
Unperturbed by my clear spiraling, she continues, “It was inappropriate. If I’m ever to escape this dreary castle and and leave your grating presence behind me, the only thing I will have left is my name and honor. And you’d be an even crueler wretch than I imagined if you take that from me as well.”
“You remember our kiss.”
“Well, despite what you so clearly believe, I’m not incompetent.”
“W-what do you remember of the kiss?” My mind flashes to me dropping to my knees before her. Burying my face between her legs. Her crying out my name. My heart pounds against my ribs, and my blood thrums so loudly in my ears that I fear it will keep me from being able to hear her answer.
Azalea’s brows furrow, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s trying to remember more of last night or because my reaction is confusing her. When she begins rubbing her temple with her middle and pointer finger and blows out a harsh breath, I’m able to deduce that it’s because she can’t remember more.
“I clearly must have had too much wine last night, and it impaired my judgement,” she bleats, her cheeks going pink. She tries to subtly push the full glass of wine next to her plate further away from her as she comes to this conclusion.
When my eyes continue to bore into hers, she knows that answer isn’t good enough for me. Drawing her lips into a tight line, she crosses her arms over her chest. “The details are fuzzy, alright? Clearly, you took advantage,” she hisses.
“You kissed me.” The statement leaves me before I can think better of it, and I can only hope my idiocy doesn’t cause her memory to start slipping through more than the curse seems to be allowing. It’s clear from her confusion that she doesn’t remember all of the events of the previous night, like what led to our kiss or what happened after it, including my admission of the nature of my curse.
“Okay, fine, yes,” she snaps. “I kissed you. But you shouldn’t have let me, and it will not happen again.”
