“Of course,” Imalda replied, tucking the letter neatly into the front pocket of her skirt. “I will make sure it gets there safely.”
“It is for a dear friend of mine,” I explained, my voice catching. “I want her to know that I am well.”
Imalda met my eyes for a moment, her gaze softening, and then she gave a small, reassuring smile. “Rest assured, it is in good hands.” Then she added, “How long will you be staying at Thornwood?”
I hesitated, unsure of the answer myself. “I am not certain,” I replied quietly, unable to meet her gaze as the unease tightened in my chest.
Imalda nodded, her expression unreadable. “I will go to the shops today to stock up on more food. Enjoy your meal.”
I watched her leave, the soft click of her footsteps fading as she disappeared from view. The silence of the dining room pressed in on me, the vastness of the mansion a reminder of how out of place I was here.
After breakfast, I ventured outside, stepping into the courtyard. It lay in disarray with overrun plants, dead flowers, and tangled leaves. I wandered through the abandoned space, my fingers brushing against thorns and dead leaves, lost in my thoughts.
Hours slipped away as I worked tirelessly to clear away the overgrowth, unveiling forgotten pathways and hidden cobblestones. I pruned and weeded, each action fueled by a sense of purpose that grew with every passing moment.
As the sun climbed high in the sky and then began its descent, I finally paused for a break. Stepping back, I surveyed the garden. What was once a labyrinth of neglect was now revealed, stripped back to show its endless potential.
Supper was already on the table after I had freshened up and arrived in the dining room. Though no second plate was set for Draven, I sat and waited for what felt like forever, growing ever more agitated and hungrier.
Is Draven avoiding me?
He told me yesterday that he would join me for supper. I feared that I had done something wrong or said something to upset him. My food started to get cold. I ate it as slowly as I could. Every movement or sound in Thornwood had me turning in the direction of the entrance, my heart skipping a beat each time in the hope that it would be Draven.
When I finally finished eating, Imalda came and cleared my plates.
“Do you know where Draven is?”
“His work keeps him out late some nights.” Providing no further details, she cleared the dishes and left before I could ask her more.
I returned to my room and began writing another letter to Vail. The house was quiet, and a cool breeze drifted in through the open window. I stood up to close it, and as I did, I noticed a dark blur moving swiftly through the trees below. My heart raced as I strained to see into the encroaching darkness. It could have been a trick of the light, a fleeting illusion, or perhaps my imagination conjuring something from the shadows.
I resumed my writing at the desk, finishing the letter, folding it, and placing it into an envelope when I heard the front door of the mansion close. Soft footsteps ascended the stairs, and I froze, my gaze fixed on the bedroom door. I approached it, turned the knob, pushed the door open a crack, and peered down the long hallway.
Draven appeared at the top of the stairs, his path illuminated only by the soft moonlight filtering through the foyer windows. He moved without a candle, his figure seemingly floating down the hallways as he walked. He paused by his door, his stance straightening, and for a moment, I held my breath, willing him to turn around and see me. However, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he slipped into his room.
The next morning, I woke up eager to tend to the garden once again. I selected a delicate cotton dress from the wardrobe, its hem grazing above my feet, hoping its lighter fabric would stay cleaner. I discovered a leather belt that I fastened around my waist, thinking it might help me secure the garden tools I unearthed from the dead leaves and dirt yesterday.
I made my way to the garden, retrieving the rusty shears I had found the previous day. Their cold metal handles felt rough against my fingers as I worked on cutting back the rose bushes and other plants in the yard. It was difficult to identify the plants since most had lost their leaves. I did my best to leave hardy portions and trim back where I could. Once I wasdone, I gathered the branches into a pile at the edge of the garden. I’d need to ask Imalda where to dispose of them.
I rested on a weathered bench, wiping sweat from my brow, and watched the sun dip below the horizon and the sky deepen into hues of violet and indigo. A branch cracked, and I caught a slight movement in my peripheral vision. Turning, I saw Draven standing there, observing the garden. His expression shifted between surprise and admiration as he took in the garden’s transformation. When his gaze finally settled on me, it was intense and lingering.
“You have been busy,” he remarked, the corner of his lips curled into a faint smile.
His sudden appearance made my heart race, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me. I couldn’t help but wonder how he perceived my disheveled hair, braided into a single plait down my back, pieces clinging to my face from sweat. Despite this, a sense of satisfaction surged through me, and I could feel heat flooding my cheeks.
“Yes, I thought the garden could use some attention,” I managed to say.
Draven approached the plants, running his fingers along a stem. “Maybe we will get roses again this year.”
Our eyes locked, and I felt an inexplicable, magnetic pull toward him. A thrilling yet unsettling sensation that made my heart race and my breath catch. The intensity of his gaze stirred something deep within me, a fire that I couldn’t ignore. I was reluctant to admit it, but I was undeniably attracted to him.
“That would be nice,” I said softly, breaking the momentary silence.
Draven’s gaze remained fixed on mine.
“You came back late last night,” I added.
“Yes, my apologies for my absence at supper. An unforeseen matter demanded my attention.”
