The truth that I’ve come to accept is that Azalea is my everything. She is my dawn and my dusk. My will and my want. I have no desire to venture back into a place wicked enough to steal her from me and taint the beauty of the love we once had, and I never wish to live in a world where she is not by my side.
So I’m doing this for her. I’ve trapped her for long enough, and I know it’s time for me to finally set her free.
51
Azalea
MyeyesdancebetweenBraxton’s. I’m still. I should be sprinting away from this castle now that I’ve been given the opportunity. But for whatever reason, I’m frozen.
“M-my family?” The words come out as a barely audible whisper.
Braxton nods curtly, which I take as his way of saying they’ll be fine.
“Braxton…” I have so many things that I want to say, but somehow my brain can’t form a coherent sentence.
“You should pack. It’ll be best for you to leave at first light tomorrow.”
Without another word, Braxton turns on his heel and swiftly exits the library. Doing my best to blink away my confusion, my feet numbly begin pulling me to my room. All the while, my brain is trying to make sense of everything I’d just been told.
Does this mean my curse is lifted? Was I ever truly cursed to begin with, or did I just blindly believe this man for however long I’ve been here? How long have I been here?
My brain refuses to stop asking questions that I’m not sure I’ll ever have the answer to. I blink and I’m suddenly in my room. I blink again, and I watch my fingers begin wrapping around a few random trinkets lining my bookshelf.
What can I pack? What’s mine, and what was given to me?
I turn toward my wardrobe, and my eyes scan over the myriad of dresses squished together inside it. As I contemplate which dresses I should take home, I hear my door burst open.
My feet spin, hope filling my chest. What a stupid fickle thing hope is. Because while I wish to see dark locks falling in front of even darker eyes, I’m met with silken hair cascading in front of mossy green eyes.
“Don’t look so excited to see me.” Rhoden plants her hands on her hips, taking a moment to catch her breath. By the heaving of her chest, it’s abundantly clear that she ran here.
“I’m sorry,” I lamely supply. “I’m assuming you heard.”
“Yes, I heard!” Rhoden strolls in before slapping my shoulder. “How dare you not come and tell meyourself.” She fake glares at me. “I had to hear it from Cynthia, the scullery maid.”
“Who’s Cynthia?” My brow props itself up.
“Exactly!” Rhoden throws her arms in the air. “How did you not come and scream from the rooftops that he’s letting you out of your curse. You’re free!”
My lips tilt in a half-hearted smile. “I guess I am.”
“That’s a very odd face to make in celebration.” Now it’s Rhoden’s turn to give me a quizzical look. “What’s going on in your head?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I don’t know if I’m ready to leave.”
“What?” Rhoden’s mouth tips open.
“I know. I know. I want to go home, I do. I miss Phillip.” Even as I say this out loud my words lack conviction. “I miss myfather.” This rings more true in the clarity of my tone. “I want to see them. I just… I don’t know.”
“What do you not know?”
“Well, what about you? What about my dresses? Or my books? Or…”
“Your Braxton?” Rhoden offers when I don’t find the courage to finish my thought.
I shake my head. This is ludicrous. He’s somehow driven me past the point of insanity. “This doesn’t make any sense. I should want to leave.”
“What you think you should want and what you truly want very rarely line up.”
