But it was as I feared, the door was firmly locked. I twisted and shook the knob as hard as I could, hoping it might give way, but it held fast. In frustration, I kicked the door, releasing some of the pent-up emotions boiling inside me. Pain shot through my foot instantly.
“Ow—shit!” I hissed, hopping once on my other leg as the sting pulsed through my toes.
“Ouch, ouch—bloody hell…”
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “How naïve to think they’d simply let me walk out,” I murmured. The realization that I was indeed a prisoner was crushing, yet it sparked a stubborn flame within me. At least now I was certain of my captivity. My heart raced as I considered my next move.
I retreated from the door and began pacing the room, restless and anxious. How long would they keep me here? The thought of just waiting to be called upon or worse, forgotten was terrifying. I had no art supplies to distract me, nothing familiar or comforting. Would I just wither away in this gilded cage, a prisoner dressed in a beautiful gown meant to appease me?
As I paced, I strained to hear any signs of life outside my room. Silence. Each minute stretched endlessly. My thoughts raced, how would I get out of this? What could I possibly do against people who seemed to wield magic and control at their fingertips?
Not ready to surrender to despair, I walked to the French doors, which had been left slightly ajar. Stepping onto the balcony, the sunshine washed over me, a stark contrast to the darkness of my thoughts. The sky was a brilliant azure, and I breathed in deeply, trying to draw calm from the beauty of the day. From here, the world seemed boundless, a cruel reminder of the freedom I lacked.
I watched birds soar effortlessly through the sky and envied their simple liberty. The vastness above me was both an open invitation and a mocking taunt. Donte had often spoken of the universe’s mysteries, of possibilities that stretched far beyond our understanding. I remembered one chilly evening, walking home with him, our conversation drifting to the origins of existence.
“Life is such a mystery, don’t you think?” I’d said, gazing at the glittering constellations. “Where did everything begin? It must have started somewhere.”
Donte smiled. I loved how it lit up his handsome face. His warm cocoa eyes shone, and a chilly breeze rustled his thick chestnut hair. He grounded me in a way no one else ever had. With him, the world always felt a little less noisy.
“From a scientific perspective,” he’d said, “it’s generally believed that our origins stemmed from the Big Bang. It’s the most logical answer, science is based on facts and evidence, not myth or superstition.”
Curiosity piqued, I’d persisted. “If that were so, then what caused the Big Bang? What existed before it, and why did it happen? If that event had occurred by the hand of something greater, then for me, that’s evidence of a creator.”
He gently clasped my gloved hand. “Tilly, maybe there is a creator. I like to believe our souls attach us to an eternal force beyond what our physical senses can identify.”
“Me too.”
He’d tilted his head, studying me. “Is there a reason behind your questions? It’s almost as though you’re trying to find something.”
I looked at him, wondering if I should answer. “I’m always looking for answers. Aren’t we all?” I squeezed his hand, grateful for the calm logic he brought to my world.
Yet such conversations felt a world away now, and I couldn’t stop wondering if there was some deeper connection I was yet to discover.
I slid down against the wall, wrapping my arms around my knees. The gown felt cold against my skin now, the fabric no longer a novelty but a reminder of how out of place I was in this scenario. I tried to keep my thoughts focused on plans and possibilities, but as the day wore on, they increasingly drifted to memories of home, of Donte, and of a life that felt heartbreakingly distant.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. Not loud. Just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone. Or free. This wasn’t the time for fear. I stood up, brushed down the fabric of my gown, and prepared for whoever was there.
Whatever came next, I’d face it standing.
ELEVEN
HYPNOTISED
"Good morning, or should I say good afternoon," came a familiar voice from just behind me. I quickly turned to see Cillian standing at the French doors with a charming, self-assured smile, but it was the kind of smile that seemed forced, like he was trying too hard to make everything seem normal.
"How did you get here from the main door so quickly?" I asked, surprised by his silent approach. His dark green shirt shimmered subtly under the light, adding to his otherworldly aura, and his scent, a mix of sandalwood and bergamot, was intoxicating, making me want to lean in even though I knew I shouldn’t. I hated that my body reacted before my brain had the time to protest.
"What's life without a little magic?" he replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. They had that honey with deep green speckles that seemed to shift, almost like he could change his expression in a heartbeat. He raises an eyebrow, his lingering eyes admiring me.
"You look beautiful, Tilly, like a dew-kissed rose from the garden."
Even though I was worried about my fate, I couldn't help blush at his compliment. Stepping beside me, he looked more than handsome.
"Is that a smile I see trying to escape from those lovely lips?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.
His proximity sent a shiver through my body, and I could no longer contain my smile. Cillian's face lit up. The sunlight kissed his face and burnished his hair with mahogany highlights, making him look almost angelic.
But I knew better than to trust angels. Especially ones who looked as handsome as he did.
