To my left hung large oil paintings in gilded frames, each an idyllic landscape. On the right, long and dusty curtains concealed tall windows. I trailed my fingers along the thick fabric as I continued to walk, each step bringing me closer to a sweeping staircase that led to the lower level, revealing more grandeur.
I continued past the stairs, nearing the end of the hallway, to a door beckoning my attention. A sense of curiosity compelled me as I reached for the doorknob.
“That would not be wise for you to do,” a voice interjected.
Startled, I turned swiftly to find the stranger who had rescued me from the river standing before me. My heart quickened in response to seeing him. This was the first timeI had the chance to properly look at him. He was well over six feet tall, dressed in an all-black ensemble, his long black hair framing his chiseled features and strong nose.
His eyes held me; they were intense, unsettling. Their icy pale blue, like the stillest winter sky, pierced right through me, as though they could peer into the very depths of my soul. His beauty was undeniable, though there was a weariness about his gaze, a quiet burden I couldn’t quite place. He appeared older than me, but his age was difficult to discern. Something stirred within me, an unspoken pull I couldn’t explain, but could not ignore.
“I apologize,” I began, feeling embarrassed and turning my gaze away from him.
“No need,” he replied, his voice smooth. “Curiosity is a trait I find rather appealing.”
I froze as he put his hand under my chin and lifted it to meet his gaze. I found myself breathless under his intense stare. Just as I gathered the courage to speak, he released my chin and reached for my hand. I didn’t even realize my hands were trembling until he steadied them, his touch sending a jolt throughout my body.
“Come with me, I will show you around.” He placed my hand on his arm, taking the lead.
“I hope you slept well. You were asleep for two days, and I started to worry,” he remarked as we descended the long, curving staircase. My stomach grumbled audibly; my hunger was now impossible to ignore.
“This is the foyer,” he motioned to the vast space in front of us. Similar to the hallway, it was dark, lit only by the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Many crystal prisms refracted the candlelight, creating a dazzling display of rainbows dancing across the walls and floors. Large oak doors filled with intricately carved details stood at the front of thehouse. Before I could figure out what stories the carvings told, the stranger whisked me away down another hallway.
This one was darker, illuminated only by a small candelabra on a side table.
“Is it just you who resides here?” I asked, noticing how quiet the house was. I almost held my breath to make my question less audible.
“Yes, though I have servants who reside in the area adjacent to the kitchen,” he explained. “You probably will not encounter them frequently. They are rather quiet and discreet, and I value my privacy.”
Servants. His casual mention of them stung, a reminder of a world I had never known, one of comfort and so far removed from my own reality. Despite the dress I wore, I suddenly felt very out of place.
As we entered the grand dining room, the sight of a single chair at the head of the long table greeted us. A small plate adorned with eggs, bread, and fresh fruit awaited me.
“I had breakfast prepared for you.” He motioned toward the table. “I must leave for work; feel free to explore my house. I will return in the evening, and we can talk. I would be delighted if you would join me for dinner.”
I found myself momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond to his charity.
“Please have a seat,” he invited, gently pulling out the chair for me.
I took a seat and looked up at him. He felt impossibly tall from this angle.
“Thank you … Sir,” I managed to say.
“My pleasure. It seems we missed a formal introduction.
My name is Draven Blackwell, and this is Thornwood Manor,” he said, his tone tinged with formality.
“My name is Rosalia Bertrand,” I replied.
“Have a pleasant day, Miss Bertrand. I will see you tonight.” With that, he left the dining room, leaving me alone.
I took in my surroundings, glancing at the food before me and then at the window, which was covered by dark curtains. I rose from my seat and swept them open, momentarily blinded by the sunlight flooding the room. In its gentle glow, specks of dust danced in the air. I returned to my seat, touching my pendant as I thought about my situation.
Draven’s kind gestures touched me, though as I sat there, a sense of unease gnawed at me. I did not know where I was nor who Draven was. Why had he been at the river that night? I had more questions than answers, and my curiosity grew by the minute.
I finished my breakfast, and a short woman appeared. She barely met my gaze as she began gathering my dishes.
“I can do that if you wish,” I suggested.
The woman shook her head, her lips drawing into a tight line. “Nay, Miss. It is no trouble at all. I have also drawn a bath for you in your chambers, as per Mister Blackwell’s instructions.” Before I could answer, she left as quickly as she appeared.
