Chapter 1. Forgive Me If You Can.
Francis.
Her screams echoed through the castle, willing my barely awake body to jerk upwards: off the floor by her room. My head spun in every direction as I scanned the empty hallways, until my eyes landed on the door my Princess hid behind.
I yanked the door wide open, ready to save her from whatever danger she’d found herself in; yet my eyes were met with her peaceful silhouette.
My eyelids heavied as I listened to her calm breathing—a lullaby to my ears. I shook my head, scaring away the exhaustion: I had to keep watch, make sure when she woke she was not alone. All the same, any sleep I’d managed made me more tired than before.
Reluctantly, I closed the door, depriving my mind of the only view that brought me the slightest peace.
My hands shook as I took my designated place by her door; my back screamed in protest, begging for a stretch or perhaps a short break. I ignored my body’s demands, determined to stay put: guarding her until she’d eventually order me away. Like the guard dog that she’d called me.
Although, I wouldn’t be truthful if I said only altruism ruled me, for if my eyes were deprived of a mere glimpse of her I would surely go mad.
Perhaps Iwasmad, for I could not remember anyone having such power over me before. How masterfully she trapped me in a web of my own feelings without so much as trying. And how lucky I was to be in that trap; how lucky I was to be granted a mere glance into her wondrous, brown eyes, the smell of lavender on her smooth, soft skin; how lucky I was to witness her stubborn yet determined mind.
Even if I was no longer worthy of those things, I still prayed there was a chance of forgiveness. Thus, I sat by her door night and day, listening to her even breathing, guarding her rest from any monsters nearby.
She hadn’t woken in days—save for the few times Florence had forced her to feed—and I began to worry. I knew she needed rest after what she’d been through, yet every time she drifted away, I worried her eyes would never open again.
I closed my eyes, regretting it in an instant, for her pained face invaded my mind. The disappointment that had shone upon her features when I’d told her the truth—the truth that made her run from me, run straight into the open arms of our enemy.
The memory of her lips turning into the saddest of smiles shot an arrow straight through my heart. The memory of her eyes filling with tears that threatened to destroy me from within—
The door at the end of the hall creaked open: the redheaded woman appeared at its threshold.
With a silk pillow in her hands, Rox took a small step towards me.
A sigh escaped me as I braced myself for another one of her lectures, yet she spared me the misery, shoving the pillow at my head before shutting the door to her and Florence’s room.
“Thank you,” I mumbled at the closed door, settling the pillow down on the floor.
Rox hadn’t acknowledged me since Simon brought us the note—a few nights after Cordelia went missing—with handwriting I’d immediately recognized as Caleb’s.
Royal palace. Forgive me if you can.The note had read, and I’d known it then: Caleb betrayed us. He betrayed us and couldn’t even face it—sending poor Simon to relay the message. A traitor and a coward. Though I supposed I was no better.
The parchment crumbled in my fist. “You were right.” I glanced at my found sister before dropping onto the chair in our study; guilt crippled inside of me.
Ever since I’d brought Cordelia into the castle, Rox had been voicing her concerns with Caleb’s odd behavior that only worsened as nights passed on. I had my suspicions too, yet disregarded Roxanne’s controversies, refusing to believe someone I owed my life to could betray me this way.
Royal palace. I reread the note again and again as if the message would change, revealing something I was clearly missing, until Florence ripped the parchment from my hands, disposing of it in the fireplace. “What do we do now?” her voice full of determination.
I watched the paper catch aflame, turning into ash as my mind rushed through every possible solution.
“I must go,” I announced to my family, already reaching for my dagger as though my throw could reach the Royal palace from our study.
“No.” Simon shook his head, his hand gripped onto my forearm. “It’s a trap, we can’t trust him.”
“Cordelia is there. I must go.” I charged toward the exit.
“Not without a plan.” Roxanne jerked the sleeve of my cloak, stopping me in place.
“There’s no time for a plan,” I argued, but stayed put.
“You can’t get yourself killed simply because you are emotional.” She threw the words I’d used when she tried to goafter Issac all those years ago. We never spoke of it, but if I’d let her go that night they would share a grave today. I often wondered if she blamed me for not granting her the peace she longed for. Though, after Florence had joined us, she seemed happy with her cursed eternity.
“Sit down.” Roxanne commanded me, her finger pointing at a cushion. “Do you remember the layout of the palace?” She asked, handing me a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink.
