Chapter three
The Arrival
Lucien
Dawn breaks sickly over the forest. Not light. No, never light. Always a pale imitation, the sun shamed into bruised hues as it tries to pierce the canopy that surrounds me. My man, my confidant, Erik, enters my chambers. “Sir,” he says, acknowledging my presence.
“Erik,” I reply, returning the acknowledgment. He knows what transpired last night, and he is disappointed in me. I hear it in his tone, and coupled with the fact that he will not look me directly in the eyes speaks volumes. “Have they returned to the castle?”
Erik shakes his head and purposely does not speak.
“Go ahead and speak your mind.You do not often have my permission to speak freely, but please, I would like to know what you are thinking.”
He shrugs. “Well, if you insist, sir.” He eyes me warily, suspicion curling in his tone. “Why her? You could have anyone.”
“I did not choose her,Erik. Her father made thechoice when he stolefrom me.”
“You are blind. It was your choice, and besides,” Erik says in protest, “it was just a rose.”
I snap,“It is never just a rose!”
“But he did it out of love, not greed,”he pleads.“Surely you can overlook this once and let them both go.Her sisters are marriedand selfish. TheyneithercarenorpossessAnnabel’s grace or beauty, inside or out. Unlike her envious siblings,Annabelis known for her kindness,a rare jewel in thisdark worldwelive in. Suitors have flocked to her, yet sheremainsresolute in her devotion to her father, refusing all proposals,to care for him in his twilight years.”He pauses with a heavy sigh.“Must you destroy everything?”
“Why such devotionto a man who has failed her in every way?”I lean forward, hungry for details.Devotion is something I have not experienced for many years,and its draw intrigues me.I’mcurious how her devotion survives her father’s failures.
“He is her father.She honors himabove all else.”
I wave him off, but he continues, desperately trying to save her from me.
“She is selfless, Your Grace. She loves her father dearly and fears leaving him alone.”
“So, she is selfless. She is loyal. She loves deeply,” I reply, an idea sparking in my mind. “You forget, Erik, I was once selfless, loyal, and loved deeply, and look at me now.”
“Yes, perhaps there is some coincidence here. But, Your Grace, she is the most selfless soul I know, except for—”
“Don’t say her name!”My voice cracks through the air, a whip of rage.
Erik lowers his gaze. “Apologies, sir. Forgive me.” Even now, just hearing their names,EvangelineandGrace, brings a sharp ache to my chest. I grit my teeth and press on. “What else?” My voice is rough, almost breaking.
“They have fallen on challenging times. Henri grows feeble, and his business wanes. Without Annabel, he would have nothing.”
“No sons or extended family to help?”
“None.”
“Then she is perfect.”
Before he can utter another word in protest, I silence him with a single, commanding gesture. He recoils and quickly disappears down the dim corridor, his hurried footsteps echoing against the cold stone as I turn my attention to what lies ahead.
My mind churns, tension threading through my every muscle as I awaither approach. The air is thick withexpectation,the castle itself seeming to hold its breathfor her arrival.
The time has come.
Asound cuts through the stillness.It isalow, resonant groan as the iron gates swing open of their own volition. The metallic protest rattles through the halls, awarningand a welcome all at once. I knowimmediatelythat she is here.I can sense her dread and fear of the unknown, butironicallyIcan’tsense her fear of me.
As the gates part, the entire castle awakens, stretching and shifting like a great beast roused fromslumber. Every stone and shadowreactsto the scent ofthenew arrival. The air hums with hunger andanticipation,thecastleand I united in our restless longing.
As sheapproaches, her presence settlesinto the breathlesshushgrippingthe castle. The great doors swing closed behind her with a thunderous finality, the stone grinding against stone, sealing her fate like the lid of a tomb.Itsecho reverberates through the cavernous halls, a grim punctuation to her crossing the threshold.She stands motionless for a moment, letting the sound fade, the weight of her choice anchoring her shoulders.
