Chapter 8. Ghost.
The cool air caressed my still damp hair as I made my way down to the stables. Snowflakes waltzed down my path, crunching under my boots. The thirteenth full Moon was knocking at our doors.
Annabelle nuzzled against me once I was within reach; my hand stretched to pet her when a pair of light-brown glowing eyes planted on me from the depths of the stables.
Roxanne looked me up and down before returning to brush her horse. Her copper hair splattered around her shoulders, reaching her waist; her black cloak contrasted with her light skin, hiding the nightgown underneath: she looked fresh out of bed.
My upcoming trip to Faris need not be a secret—Francis did not specify whether I must stay at the castle after he dragged me back, not that I cared—still and all, I wasn’t pleased with an extra pair of eyes and ears upon my departure. Though, Roxanne never seemed to care—
“Where are you going?” she asked as I put my saddle on Annabelle.
“To Faris,” I replied, my fingers securing the small belts.
“By yourself?” Roxanne put the brush down.
I merely shrugged, mounting my horse.
“Wait for me.” She threw over her shoulder, heading towards the castle.
“You needn't trouble yourself.” I called after her, yet the front doors of the castle shut before I finished my sentence.
I supposed it wouldn’t make a difference were she to come along. Roxanne wasn’t one to indulge in someone's privacy out of curiosity: most of our time together was spent in silence.
“Let’s go.” She reappeared at the stables a few minutes later. Her nightgown changed into a beautiful forest-green dress, her hair now put into two simple braids, crowning her head. She ordered her horse out of the stables without waiting for me to follow.
As predicted, Roxanne didn’t bother me with countless questions along our journey, though her withering gaze fell in my direction more than I preferred.
“Is something wrong?” I dared her to voice her mind after another—rather judging—gaze that was thrown my way.
“You look like a ghost.” Roxanne shrugged. “You talk like one too.”
She couldn’t be serious, could she? I looked at her in disbelief. “Why did you want to come with me?” My brows furrowed. “I didn't ask for company.”
Our silent staring was broken by her short, “We need to talk.”
Perhaps I underestimated her character. “I don’t wish to talk.” Since when did Roxanne and I talk anyway?
“It might be a foreign concept to you, but we often have to do things we don’t wish to.” She spat out.
What in the Kingdom was her problem?
Roxanne and I were never friends: she barely tolerated me when I’d first arrived at the castle, though the sudden cruelty was still odd. Was our silent truce a pretense?
I almost turned Annabelle back around. Almost.
