by James, Lylah
“You have to stop doing that. I might just end up hurting you one day in my fright,” I warned.
She scoffed. “Please, I’m not worried. You can’t even hurt a bug.”
My heartbeat pounded in my ears, harsh and loud, like beating drums.
Sorry to fool you, Mirai. But I did more than hurt just a bug. I had killed. My own sister’s blood was on my hands and no matter how much I tried to wash the blood away, tried desperately to hide my sins – my skin was still soaked with the stench of her death.
I squinted up at her. “Is it really fun to scare someone?”
“You’re just so jumpy. Sorry, but yeah, it is fun.” Mirai smiled.
Such a brat, but I found her presence somewhat delightful. Over the last few days, her companionship had entertained me. Mirai was young and bright, full of mischief and life.
“So, do you have it?” Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and she practically bounced on her toes.
I felt myself smiling at her eagerness and I crossed my legs, closing my book to give her my undivided attention. Reaching for the pocket in my dress, I fished out what Mirai was so excited about and dangled the keys between my fingers for her to see.
“Holy shit,” she gasped.
Two days ago, Mirai told me a little secret. Something I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, and so I took matters into my own hand.
My curiosity got the best of me, after all.
“I forgot to tell you,” Mirai started, looking excited to gossip. “Did you know that, apparently, there are old letters from Arabella that have been kept safe and locked away in one of the rooms in this castle?” She quirked up an eyebrow, waiting for my response.
“Letters from Arabella?” I paused. This was literally a treasure, I thought, while gaping at Mirai. If what Mirai said was true, the letters would be a direct look into Arabella’s past and story. “Do you know which room?”
“North wing. That’s where her room used to be. It’s locked and I don’t have access to it. But you should be able to get the keys from my grandpa. This is your castle now.”
“Good point. I’ll ask Stephen for the keys.”
Mirai gaped at me. “You actually got it?”
“Well, yeah. Like you said, this is my castle now. I should have access everywhere, even forbidden and haunted rooms.”
She giggled. “Oh, girl. We’re going to have so much fun!”
“Do you want to go exploring now?” I asked, even though I already knew her answer. Mirai was every bit of a historical fanatic as me. She was obsessed with the secrets that this castle’s walls bore. Maybe this was the reason why Mirai and I got along.
“Duh! Those letters better be real and not just rumors,” she said, echoing my thoughts.
I got up and gestured for her to follow me. “Let’s go.”
Nerves burst in my chest as Mirai and I walked down the corridor of the north wing. I thought my side of the castle was eerie, but the north swing was just… plain gloomy and disturbing. Maybe because it lacked life.
The hair on my arms stood up and I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. My body grew cold and I didn’t know if it was just a feeling or if it was because the temperature of the wide corridor had somewhat decreased.
The chandelier lights were dimmed and as Mirai and I walked past, our shadows danced on the walls. The knights stood still, for they were frozen in time. The statues that decorated the corridor stood tall and imposing. The sculptured faces were not ones of joy, but their expressions were contorted in what seemed like despair and anguish – as if tormented souls were trapped in them.
“There,” Mirai pointed at the end of the corridor, “this was Arabella’s room.”
We stopped in front of the double doors, with golden and carved designs on the wooden surface. I inserted the key into the lock, holding my breath at the same time. There was a loud click that echoed through the deserted walls of the north wing as Mirai pushed the doors open.
We crossed over the doorway, but my feet faltered at the entrance. I gaped at the inside of the room. I didn’t know why I imagined an unkept room with dust and spiderwebs… something old and well, looking quite… haunting. But it was the complete opposite.
The room was spotless. It appeared that the housekeepers had been keeping it clean and organized. The room was quite similar to mine. A huge four-poster bed in the middle, neatly made, with silk curtains and more pillows than I could count. Two nightstands on either side of the bed, a dresser to my left and a large window that overlooked the labyrinth. There was another full-length mirror on the other side of the window, the frame made out of thick wood and the carved flower design was… well, fancy and immaculate. There were two crystal chandeliers and there were hints of gold in the crown molding. The wallpaper was a golden flower design, giving it the final feminine touch.
The bedroom was every bit antique, just like my own – and just like the rest of the castle.
I stayed by the door while Mirai rummaged through the drawers, almost impatiently. She pressed against the walls, as if expecting them to open up and to show her a secret passage. When she didn’t find anything on one side of the room, she walked to the next drawers, opening and closing. Searching.
I walked over to the dresser, trying to find anything that would look out of the ordinary. For a brief moment, I felt a sense of… guilt. Like I was doing something wrong.
Well, snooping around was wrong.
But then again, Arabella died more than a century ago. Her stories had been told over and over again, each version different from the previous one. And this castle belonged to Killian and me, after all.
Every secret that came with it was mine to discover.
Maybe Mirai and I should leave the dead souls to rest, and let the secrets be buried with them. But damn it, my fingers itched to know everything.
I didn’t know why I was so curious about their story. But I felt it, deep inside my bones.
I wanted to know.
I needed to know.
I had been obsessing over it for a week.
A small squared jewelry box caught my attention. I reached for it, but the bottom of it was stuck to the surface.
Curious, I wrapped my fingers around it, struggling with the pretty box as if it had been glued to the dresser. With a flick of my wrist, it turned to the side and there was a clicking sound that made me pause and then… a drawer in the dresser opened, revealing stacks and stacks of books and… letters?
Not just any random letters. They were handwritten; some were sealed in envelopes while others were piled and tied together with several thin ropes.
“Holy shit, you found the letters!” Mirai practically squealed, coming to stand by my side. I guessed I did…
My heart slammed into my rib cage, like a thundering storm, and my legs grew weak.
Arabella’s secrets… and her love story were all right here. Written in these pages.
I took out the stack from the drawer and the musky scent of old books and papers prickled my nose. The letters were so old, some of them were wrinkled and torn apart. The black ink had run out, slightly fading on the brown paper, but I could still make out the words.
The papers had many creased lines, from so many times of being folded and unfolded.
There were some stains on the letter… tearstained?
“This is literally Arabella’s life in your hands,” Mirai said in awe.
My fingers brushed against the first letter, the one on top of the stack. I admired the penmanship of Marchioness Wingintam, my eyes caressing over every cursive word, the careful strokes of the pen made so many years ago.
Dear Husband,
My thoughts are filled with you.
Your hatred for me, for I have taken the one thing you did want the most.
Your handsome visage,
Your sturdy hands,
Your wicked smile,
And your soft eyes.
I want to believe you were made for
me and our souls are one.
But how can I bethink so…
When you still envisage her while you bed me.
- A
And so, I got lost in a love story that wasn’t my own, yet it called me.
Lured me with the promise of tragedy.
Dragged me into the depths of despair.
And tempted me with its beautiful sorrow.
CHAPTER SIX
Julianna
Six months later
We are lost,
in the madness of love.
Like the morrow frost,
during the winter days.
Thy love is cold,
if only,
Our story could hast been foretold.
The pain would not hast been threefold.
- A
I folded the half-torn letter and placed it next to my hip, on the window seat. I spent a week reading through every single letter and poem written by Arabella, and with every faded word I read, they dragged me deeper into her life and her heartbreak.
I sifted through the brown papers, choosing the poems that I loved the most. Some days, because I was so gluttonous for pain, I’d reread her poems. Like today.
Marchioness of Wingintam lived a life of misery. She fell in love with the man who couldn’t bear her touch. She loved a man who mourned for another woman.
Arabella’s life was a lonely one and with every child she lost, she grew desperate for her husband’s affection, only to end up with his cold eyes and loveless hands. She offered him her body, day and night, because it was the only moment she felt close to her husband.
Yet, his passion was reserved for his lover and never for his wife.
Arabella died alone.
She took her last breath under the gazebo Elias had built for his lover.
How cruel fate could be, but I understood better than anyone else.
I looked out the window, where the stables were. Over the last four months, I had found myself in Arabella’s private library more than my own. The view here was beautiful as I watched the stableman work with the horses.
One horse in particular caught my eye last week – the white one. It was a newly arrived horse on the Isle.
She was so beautiful, my fingers itched to touch her. The wind wisped her long, white mane into the air as the mare galloped in circles. She was a playful one and I guessed she had to be young. I watched as the stableman groomed her, brushing through her beautiful pelt of hair.
The older man looked up and caught my eye through the window. I waved at him, as I always did. He smiled and his attention went back to the mare.
If only I had the courage to go down there…
With my cheek against the window, I watched the mare and stableman together. Emptiness clawed at my chest and the back of my eyes prickled.
A day passed by and I found myself here again, looking out from the window.
The day after that, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the white mare.
Another day went by.
A week…
Until…
I wanted a closer look at this gorgeous creature. I wanted it so badly that I felt it down to my bones, felt it in my veins, and so without any consideration, without thinking twice about it, my feet propelled me forward.
I left the letters on the window seat and walked out of Arabella’s private library. I found myself walking down the corridor and down the stairs. Blindly, I walked past Emily and followed the path to the stables.
To feel her soft skin under my fingertips.
To ride her.
To feel the wind against my face.
I wanted that.
I missed it…
I paused outside of the stable, watching the mare carefully. The stableman was currently running his fingers through her beautiful mane.
He must have noticed my presence because he looked over his shoulder and smiled.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. “Come closer. She’s friendly.”
I chewed on my lip. “Waiting for me?”
“You’ve been watching her for two weeks now, looking so lost and scared.” He let out a small laugh. “It took you long enough to come here.”
“What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have one yet. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I blinked in surprise. “I don’t understand….”
“This is a late wedding gift from your father-in-law. She’s yours.”
I was taken aback by his response but now it all made sense. William Spencer called me a month ago to try and convince me, once again, to come back to Spencer Manor. I simply refused and then wished him well. Before hanging up, he told me that he was preparing a wedding gift for me. But I hadn’t thought much of it.
Since his illness had been made public, my father-in-law has tried multiple times to convince me to leave the Isle behind and to come back to the mainland.
But I couldn’t.
It wasn’t because I was safe here, away from the gossips, the curious stares, and the pity.
I had made the decision for Killian. He had to focus on his father, not on his hatred for me. Because if I were there, I would be the constant reminder of what he lost, the thorn stuck under his flesh and the knife digging into his heart.
It was better if I stayed out of their way.
Even though we were married on paper, husband and wife by law – I hoped that if we didn’t cross paths, maybe Killian would finally find peace.
Maybe with someone else, a woman who suited him more than me.
I cleared my throat, looking between the stableman and my mare. “What’s your name?”
“Gideon,” he introduced himself. “At your service, milady.”
“I’m–”
He smiled, charmingly. “Julianna, I know.”
“She’s beautiful,” I whispered, taking a step closer. She sensed my presence and eyed me. I was slow in my movement, careful not to cause her any fright.
“Indeed,” Gideon agreed. He finally looked at my veiled covered face, his eyes lingering over my eyes longer. I expected pity, but there was only mild curiosity. “Mr. Spencer said she’s the perfect match for Cerberus.”
“Cerberus?” I asked, confused.
He nodded toward the tall, black stallion to my left. I hadn’t noticed him before, since all my attention was on my mare. He was in a stall, looking curiously at my horse. “Cerberus there belongs to Killian. He’s a bit of a grumpy one and can get violent. No one rides him, except Killian,” the older man explained.
I let out a scoff. Of course, Killian would have a grumpy horse to match his own violent tendencies. And of course, he named his stallion after the three-headed hound of Hades. How original of him.
“Are you scared of horses? You seem a bit stiff. She won’t hurt you; she’s very gentle.”
“I–”
Frayed nerves coursed through my veins and my legs grew shaky. I swallowed past the heavy lump in my throat. “I had a little… incident when I was ten-years-old. I was learning to ride and fell off my horse.”
It wasn’t a small incident though.
I ended up in a coma for nine days from a brain injury…
I woke up with a seizure.
And till this day…
“So, do you know how to ride a horse?” he asked, head cocked to the side curiously.
I nodded stiffly. “A little. I learned a few years ago.”
Once I was close enough to reach out and touch her, I brought a shaky hand forward. My fingers brushed against her long mane, beautiful and soft.
Gideon grasped my hand in his and helped me to caress the mare’s chest. I let out a yelp when she stomped her hooves, getting a bit antsy. “She can sense your emotions. Stay calm. Don’t be nervous.” He let go of my hand and took a small step back, letting me and my mare bond.
I kept my hand on her side, slowly caressing her. She was so soft; I liked how she felt under my fingertips. I pet her for what seemed like a lon
g time, lost in the moment with my beautiful, white mare.
“Hey there, big girl,” I whispered, bringing my head closer to her. Slowly, I pressed my cheek against her flank. “Do you think we can be friends?”
She sighed in response.
I stepped forward and she lowered her head, bumping her nuzzle against my shoulder. Her breath was warm against my cheek. I smiled under my black veil. “Is that a yes?”
I rubbed her nuzzle softly. “God, you’re so gorgeous.”
She let out a massive breath and I feigned a gasp. “Did you just agree with me? Of course, you did. You know you’re the most beautiful thing ever.”
I gave her a scratch over her velvet nose. “Ragna.”
She snorted in response and our eyes met. “Ragna is your name.”
A moment passed, there was something in her dark gaze that matched the emotions squeezing in my heart – something I couldn’t exactly describe.
Loneliness.
Hopelessness.
Desperation for someone to see me for who I really was.
Ragna saw me. She didn’t see the veil or my sins. She didn’t care about my past or my broken heart. She didn’t judge. She saw me – Julianna.
Ragna threw her head back, her mane flying, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt myself smile. Truly, with all my heart’s content.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Ragna. We’re going to be best friends.”
Killian
A week later
I remembered the first time I saw her. Hiding behind a stack of hay, watching me prep Coal, the black stallion I was training after Bishop Romano had asked me to.
Coal was a stubborn one.
He just wouldn’t let anyone near him, let alone ride him. He had already injured two other horse trainers that Bishop had hired and when he asked for help – I couldn’t exactly say no.
Not when we were supposed to keep our relationship amical. Not when my father had warned me beforehand that Bishop would be my future father-in-law and I had to do everything to please him, enough that he’d happily hand over his daughter to me.