by Brown, Tara
When I reached the dark hallway of the main floor area where the laundry and pantries were, I slipped by unnoticed as staff moved about the kitchens. Trying to stay in the shadows wasn’t as tricky down here; all the windows were saved for the more visited parts of the mansion. Before passing doorways, I would pause and listen.
But there was nothing.
Not until I got closer to my father’s study.
Then I heard her.
“Polly, she’ll bloody well do as she’s told!” My mother’s sharp tone broke the silence. Instinctively, I slipped into a hall closet, leaving the door slightly ajar with my ears perked up. This was becoming something of a regular thing for me.
“Carmella, my darling, you have to calm down. You know how Ophelia gets. If you push, she’ll shut down. She’s fragile. And now she’s lost her friend. Yes, Paige was a friend we didn’t love. But she was someone O was close to. If she’s not eating and she’s barely sleeping, we need to handle this gently. We don’t need a repeat of last time. She didn’t talk for months.” My father’s soothing voice was such a contrast to hers. “I expect you to be kind about it.”
“Fine!” Mother snapped, followed by her heels clicking across the marble floor. The sound faded and I sighed, about to climb from my hiding place, but the phone rang in his study. Father answered, making a noise indicating he was rifling through papers. “Hello?”
“Mr. Agard, this is Dr. Andy Dupree.” The phone was on speaker. I left the closet and walked to the doorway and listened carefully.
“Dr. Dupree!” Father sounded eager but lowered his tone. “Have you found anything?”
“Yes, sir.” The man whispered back, “The results are as you suspected.”
“The king was poisoned?” It was my father’s turn to whisper.
“Methyl iodide, but a potent formula of the substance. It’s a pesticide in its true form. I’ve checked and none of the staff in the Jacobi house are experiencing anything, and it wasn't ingested, but rather inhaled. The king’s symptoms were a perfect match for a stroke, but it wasn’t.”
My stomach tightened.
Someone had murdered the king? But who? Fortinbras?
“Dear God, poor Hamlet.” My father paced the office. I wondered if he was tapping his lip the way I always did. He and Lucas’ father had been friends, they grew up together. “Who would do this?”
“To a monarch? I think the question you need to ask yourself is, who wouldn't?” the doctor said softly. “What should we do with this information?”
“Nothing,” my father said abruptly. “This conversation never happened. I will get to the bottom of this. Tell no one of your findings, burn the results. Stop looking into it further.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you for the discretion, Doctor. Again, I am in your debt. Whatever you need, don't hesitate.” Father ended the call and walked to the doorway. I hurried back to the closet and listened as he left his office, his footsteps slapping across the marble, leaving me confused and breathless.
Hamlet Jacobi had been murdered.
It brought back the image of my dream, and I realized I had known that. Somehow, on a cellular level of my being, I knew that.
Frozen in the spot, I listened to the silence of my house as the rest of the burned faces in the painting haunted me. If my dream was right, and King Jacobi was murdered, was Lucas in danger too? At least he was somewhere else for now.
The thought brought me from my hiding spot and hurrying from the office. I stayed close to the walls, listening extra hard for anything resembling my parents as I crept to the servants’ quarters and rushed up the back stairs. I raced to my room and changed my clothes, a desperate need clogging my head and heart with panic. I needed to get out of here, and I needed to warn Lucas.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered to the silence, waiting for Paige to answer. But there was nothing. No whispers, no lilacs.
A knock at the door a moment later brought more bad news.
I hid the phone in my windowsill under the loose board as my brother opened the door. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he entered with a strange look on his face, like he was about to burst. I was getting tired of these interactions between us.
“Fine,” I lied.
“I know you’re devastated, O, but I need you to listen to me.” He came in further, closing the door behind him. “Father just came and told me that Mother is sending you away again. Not eating for days on end and Paige dying so recklessly has given her the ammo she needs to convince Father you need help. Dr. Horkel is coming to the house to assess you. He should be here at any moment. Mother has convinced everyone you need a reprieve from the outside world.”
I froze, panicking but scared to move. The last time Dr. Horkel came to the house, I ended up in a mental institute for a few weeks.
“Where is she sending me?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered and rubbed his tired eyes. “I don’t imagine I need to tell you how bad this is.”
I closed my eyes, trying to grasp everything that was happening. Mother's words made sense now. She had been in there, in my father’s office, setting me up. My father wouldn’t see it. He’d think he was saving me from myself by tucking me away somewhere. A place she’d recommend. A plan set into motion that Father wouldn’t see coming. And same as last time, the path to freedom would be doing what she wanted, though this time I didn’t know what that was.
Laertes sighed heavily, offering me an expression similar to the one I imagined I wore. “I’ll try to help. I’ll work on father.”
But his words were worthless.
I'd foolishly played right into my mother’s hands. Bringing Paige to the funeral, sneaking off to New York, and getting a ride from Lucas had set this up perfectly. Adding my own grief and inability to cope had given her the upper hand. And Father was too busy to pay attention to what she did to me. His friend’s murder had him preoccupied.
“What if I don’t want to go?” Paige was dead. The king was murdered. Now was not the time for me to be locked up again or fall prey to whatever schemes she had going.
I racked my brain for something, anything, to stop this. But I didn’t have a single thing on my mother. Nothing current and viable. Not like last time, when I’d traded my freedom from the institute for the evidence I had against her. And as far as I could tell now, she wasn’t having another affair.
“I don’t know.” Laertes was never good at scheming against Mother.
“I could run away.”
“And go where?” His words picked at me.
Where would I go? Paige was dead and all my other friends were part of this tightly controlled circle, more henchmen than homies.
Could I scrounge enough money to run for good? The disheartening disappointment wrapped around me like a cloak. How much money would be enough? I didn’t even know how much was in my accounts, which would be frozen the moment I tried to do anything. And the doctor would be here any second. I slumped under the weight of the painful truth. My mother had me.
A knock interrupted my thoughts. Both Laertes and I turned sharply, staring at the door with dread. The lilacs overwhelmed me, overpowering the room. I glanced at Laertes to see if he could smell it, but his expression didn’t change. Which made me wonder if she was really here or if I was hallucinating. Grief-driven insanity?
Laertes took a deep breath as he clasped the knob and opened the door, alarmed by the face of our mother met him in the doorway.
“Laertes, leave us, please.” She walked in past him, with creepy Dr. Horkel right behind her. His face brought back far too many bad memories for me to try to pick which was the worst one. Laertes gave me a final remorseful look, as he left. “Ophelia, you look awful, darling.” My mother scowled though no creases were made on her porcelain face. “Dr. Horkel is here to see you, dear. I’ve told him how you haven’t eaten, you’re not coping with your grief since your friend died.” She folded her arms and narrowed her gaze with a
n evil smile resting softly on her lips.
My stomach tensed into a ball that dropped with a thud. This was the reason she was starving me. I appeared gaunt and weak, I was emaciated and feeble.
“Hello, Ophelia,” Dr. Horkel spoke softly as he stepped closer. “Your mother says your melancholy is back.”
“No. I don’t think so,” I said calmly though I felt the opposite. My heart was beating so hard I was dizzy from it. My stomach ached and burned from the possibilities that awaited me at the creepy doctor's hands. Even breathing was laborious, but I spoke up for myself, much to her displeasure, “I think my responses are pretty normal for someone who just lost their best friend.”
“I see.” His tone stayed the same. “Your mother said you weren’t eating before your friend died.”
“She was starving me!” I defended myself but I knew how it sounded.
“You see?” My mother asked.
“It isn’t like that.” I refused to budge, my gaze focusing on the doorway where I hoped my father might enter.
“Well, I think we should have you admitted and see if we can’t help you find your balance again.” There was joy in his voice.
“Ophelia.” My mother spun on her heel, pointing at the hallway. “Two men are waiting in the hallway. Dr. Horkel has been instructed to sedate you and the men will put you in the car if you fight this. Or you may come willingly. You have until I reach the doorway to decide how this will happen.” She turned back and walked to the door.
“No!” I said firmer, though my words had a tremor to them. “I am not leaving here! I need to be at Paige’s funeral. You can’t force me to miss it. You killed her, I know you did!”
“You see what I’m dealing with, doctor?” She inhaled deeply, sighing out her breath as she continued from the room.
Everything from that moment on was a blur.
Hatred ripped through me.
Flashes of men entering, me screaming, writhing, and fighting.
Agony in my arms and legs as I was pinned.
The smell of fabric softener as my face was shoved into the comforter.
Dr. Horkel grinning as he stabbed me with a needle.
The smell of lilacs followed me into the abyss.
Chapter 5
Saturday, July 13
I sat up with a gasp, clawing at my throat until I realized I was breathing. The dream had been a choking one. Paige was pushing my face underwater, she was pulling me into the water. Dragging me into the darkness with her.
It took several minutes for my racing heart to slow before recollection hit. I wasn’t home. I was in my pajamas but this was not my room.
Hazy memories flitted back into my mind, jerky and blurred out.
Dr. Horkel.
Mother.
Men in suits.
Lilacs.
My brother.
I was in an institution again. The thought of that made my skin crawl. I checked my watch, seeing it was ten-thirty. The daylight filtering in the room suggested it was morning.
I swiped right on the watch to bring up the date.
July thirteenth.
I’d been sleeping for well over a day but recalled none of it.
My stomach grumbled, but the way my head was spinning made me nauseated. Through the uneasy feeling, I forced myself to stand and walked to the window. My legs were like a baby deer’s, wobbling, and unsteady. The view from the room overlooked gardens I didn’t recognize and a gate I hadn’t seen before. I tried to hurry for the door, fighting the feeling of heaviness.
Fortunately, it wasn't the first time I’d woken this way, so the symptoms didn’t scare me. Knowing my mother, it wouldn't be the last.
My stomach grumbled as a knock at the door took my attention. I didn’t say anything but the door opened anyway. A woman with sharp eyes trying to disguise themselves as kind peeked in. “Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Like my mom drugged me,” I said with a raspy voice. My arm hurt where needle marks sat in the crook. “You people are sick,” I grumbled as I rubbed my eyes and waited for the medicated feeling to wear off. “Letting my mom drug and admit me against my will. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Dr. Horkel’s report suggests you hadn’t been eating and you suffered a loss. You were underweight and dehydrated when you were admitted this morning. Your mother was worried you might end up having an episode again.”
“Episode?” I lifted my stare to meet hers, hoping I was able to convey the disappointment on my face. “I caught my mother having an affair when I was fourteen, and she institutionalized me until I agreed to give over the evidence I had against her that I planned to show my dad. If you mean that episode, I’m not. Or do you mean the one where she left drugs in my room and somehow my father ended up finding them, conveniently, in the drawer she sent him to? Because I was in a padded cell for two weeks that time.
“All right.” She didn’t bat an eyelash at the accusations, meaning she didn’t believe me. I was delusional. As usual.
“Wait—” I backed my foggy brain up. “Did you say I arrived this morning?”
“I did.”
“That’s impossible.” I did the math twice in case the drugs were making me crazy. “I was drugged by Dr. Horkel and my mother two days ago. Where have I been?” The question and possible answers traumatized me.
“I don’t know. I can’t answer that. You arrived this morning. Anyway, I’m Dr. Graves. Welcome.”
“That’s a tragically ironic name,” I said with a heavy sigh, my mind preoccupied with everything.
“Sorry?” She furrowed her ruddy brow. “Oh right.” She smiled as the irony of her name hit her. “I think you’re the first person to notice that. Ever. Anyway, how are you feeling this morning?” she asked flippantly.
“You already asked that,” I muttered, offering a small dose of sarcasm to go with her blatant disregard for personal space.
“Oh, I guess I did.”
“I want to leave.” I was tired and felt awful.
“This isn’t a prison, Ophelia, or an institution. It’s a retreat for the soul. A place people can come to find peace with the horrors that have occurred in their lives. You may leave at any time, but I would think if you genuinely suffered a loss, you’d want to stay and heal.” She took a deep breath. “If you decide to stay for your own health and wellness, your schedule will be at the front desk. If you choose to leave, a car will take you home.” She smiled, but it wasn’t the sort of smile that comforted. “I hope you stay.” She stepped back out the door and left, gently closing it behind her.
I wasn’t sure what had just happened. Was she doing some reverse psychology on me?
The scent of lilacs became stronger.
“What is happening?” I asked Paige softly.
Before she could answer with wind and smells, the phone on the bedside table rang. I lifted it and pressed talk. “Hello?”
“Darling, you’re awake,” my mother’s voice sang from the other end of the line, sounding too happy.
“Just tell me whatever it is you want and let me get it over with so I can be home in time for the funeral,” I muttered, too tired to bother with effort.
“The funeral was this morning. Her parents rushed through with it. Anyway, you’re right, I have tucked you away there because I have a proposition for you.”
“I don’t have any evidence on you,” I groaned.
“I haven’t done anything worthy of evidence,” she said with a laugh. “The proposition is this: you are currently staying at a pleasant and expensive retreat where you can choose to get better or decide to fight and end up in a much, much less expensive place.” Her tone took a dark edge at the end of the sentence. “It’s entirely up to you.”
I closed my eyes, not in the mood for her games. “What does that mean?”
“It’s simple, darling. I put you there for a reason. You and Lucas Jacobi will bond over your losses and hurt and cruel families. And you will start dating. Y
ou will marry and have children and do all the things you’re supposed to do. Becoming the future Queen of New Denmark.”
“What?” I was lost. “What do you mean?”
“Look around you, Ophelia.” She laughed bitterly, acting as a wicked stepmother might. “It doesn’t resemble the sort of institution Dr. Horkel runs because you’re in the same place as Lucas. A nice center for healing and grief. You’ve coincidentally suffered a loss, the same way Lucas did. You will use this to get close to him. To convince him to love you.”
Realization was painful with my mother. Dark and sinister.
“Did you kill her?” I whispered as a single tear streamed down my cheek.
“She died of drinking and driving. Apparently, it was a bit of a problem for her.” She cackled again. “I told you to stay away from her. I told you that friendship was not allowed. You didn’t listen. You did this, not me! Had you left that poor girl alone, nothing would have happened to her. But you never do as you’re told. I knew it the moment you were born, you’re evil.”
A tiny chunk of my heart sloughed off like those nature videos of pieces of icebergs falling into the sea. “How could you?”
“Because as your mother, I expect the best for you. So moving forward, you will listen and behave, or someone else you love will have an accident. Every single day you disobey me, someone else will suffer.”
Her words hit hard, like a bat.
“You will repair the damage you have done to yourself and to Lucas. Your reputations for drugs and partying and casual sex are to be mended. And let’s just say your friends’ lives depend on you and Lucas being together.” She hung up, leaving me holding the phone with a cold, clammy hand and a rapidly beating heart.
There was no escaping this.
No escaping her.
Chapter 6
Monday, July 15
“Would you like to take a walk?” Dr. Graves asked as she stepped in my room after opening the door without knocking. She stood to the side seeming to present me with freedom as if it wasn’t already at my disposal. I narrowed my gaze, watching her. She was a strange woman, and I was uncertain if she knew about my plight or not.