by R. L. Weeks
Trumpets announced his arrival to dinner. I held back from rolling my eyes. I was snarky, but not stupid. I didn’t want to give him a reason to kill me… yet.
The man who I had only ever seen from the shadows, entered the room. He pulled off his royal blue cloak and looked over at me. “Isabella.” My name rolled off his tongue.
His eyes matched the cloak. They were the first things I noticed about him. Menacing, sparkling in the light, and light. They were the eyes of a venomous snake who could lure you in with one look.
I looked away and glanced down at my many forks.
His face was not covered with scars as I had thought, nor did he look as ugly as the stories had told. He looked almost angelic and so carefree. His hair was tousled, made to look messy on purpose. He had a raw sex-appeal.
I mentally kicked myself for thinking any of those thoughts. Why is it that human attraction could always make your rational brain take a walk? I had always prided myself on not being superficial, but there I was, being superficial. I hoped it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome.
The story, as I had read it, was that the beauty fell in love with the beast. That’s why I had a mental image of him looking beastly. No such look.
“Isabella?” He said again, but this time as a question.
“Clarence,” I said back after composing myself. I delved right into my plea of innocence. “I did not take your rose. I have told you already so please, let me go. I don’t know where it is.”
He looked confused. “Eat your dinner.” He said slowly.
I looked down at the plate of chicken and broccoli. I hadn’t even noticed it being placed down in front of me. I scraped my fork against the plate and looked up at the prince with hooded eyes. “Why did you call me down here.”
He smiled. “I like beautiful company.” He laughed as he waited for me to say something. “I can hear your eyes rolling from all the way over here.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not really hungry.”
The silence seemed to have gone on forever as I waited for him to speak. The room had cleared out, the only company we had was the candle in the middle of the table. He didn’t speak, probably out of habit.
Somewhere in the candlelit glow, I found my voice. “So, you’re a Necromancer.”
“Yes.” He looked rather pleased with himself. “I bring souls back from the other side. Not their bodies, just their souls, and I put them into things.” He pointed at the candle. “Like him. He was an Italian duke when he died. Now he’s immortal.” He sighed. “I did what I had to do.”
I gasped. “That’s how the objects can talk. I thought you enchanted them. But that is sick.” I dug my nails into the table. “You’re sick.”
Out of nowhere, as if I was trapped in one of my nightmares, I felt like I had been drugged. My vision blurred and Clarence’s voice sounded distorted. Moments later, the feeling passed.
“Isabella?” He said again, but this time he spat my name like venom. A flash of red crossed his gaze. “It is what it is. Look, I can’t bring the corpse back. It wouldn’t make for an attractive…”
“Stop it,” I demanded. “I don’t want to hear any more. I just want you to let me go!” I looked around the room and got the sickening feeling that I would be just as trapped as the soul inside the candle.
“Once the rose is returned to me, I will let you go.” He promised.
“It won’t be returned. The man who took it, I didn’t know him. He must have stolen it from your castle. I don’t know or care, all I know is keeping me here is doing nothing to get your precious rose back.”
Clarence stood up abruptly, his chair screeched back behind him. He thumped his fists on the table making the candle and plates jump. “Then find a way! Tell me who took it. Or give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now?”
I fell silent, afraid to say anything more. I had no argument except for compassion and mercy, neither of which I believed he felt.
After a few moments, he sat back down.
“It seems unlikely that you just happened across the rose. Your story makes no sense.”
“I’m not lying,” I said sheepishly.
He scoffed and leaned back in his chair. He rested his chin on his hand nonchalantly and looked me up and down. “I believe that you believe that you didn’t take it. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t.
That rose is an important treasure of mine.”
“Why?” I dared ask.
“It holds something dear to me.”
I thought back to the Tale of the Three Brothers. He put his magic into a rose, storing it something other than himself where his two brothers tried to take it from him, then hid the rose away where could draw the power from it whenever he wished.
“Of course,” I said lightly. “Your powers are hidden in the rose. Without it, you can’t do magic.”
My statement aroused a rage in him. He grabbed a small cup with no finesse and clutched it in his hand. On it was a pair of eyes and a mouth. It looked like a child. “Inside this cup is the soul of a young boy who drowned in a well.”
I shuddered as the teacup squealed as Clarence squeezed harder.
“Let me show you what I can really do.”
He closed his eyes. Through his fingers, blood poured out from the cup. The screaming coming from the cup was so loud it hurt my ears.
“Stop it!” I screamed, but it was no use. Blood continued to pour until the screams died out.
Finally, he opened his eyes. The screaming had stopped and there was blood everywhere. When Clarence opened his hand the teacup was in broken shards and the face on the china had gone. “I still have the power to hurt anything inside this castle.” He dropped the shards of china. “Including you.”
He cleaned his hands with a napkin and stood up. He took a few steps and looked down at me. “You better hope that rose comes back unscathed within the next week.” He looked at the shards of china. “If not, you will become his replacement.”
My gaze darted to the broken cup. “Please.” My voice broke. “I swear I don’t know anything.”
He gave me one last look before turning away to the doors.
“Please,” I screamed after him. “Let me go.”
He left the room. I got up to chase after him but was stopped by two guards.
After what felt like an eternity sat in that dining room alone, two women entered wearing long blue dresses.
“We have been told to accompany you back to your room.”
I growled under my breath. “No need.”
They looked at each other alarmed. “Please, Miss.” One of them said.
I looked at the door. He had no real power here without the rose. I knew what desperate men looked like and was as desperate as they come. It confirmed my theory. He had no magic. I could walk out of this castle alive. All I needed to do was make it past his guards and servants.
Chapter Three
My sprint to the gardens was terrifying. One of the guards had almost grabbed me by the skirt of my dress, tearing it up to my hip.
I kicked him in the balls and made a run for it as he fell to his knees.
I made it to the rose garden when I heard Clarence’s voice boom out from the castle doors. My heart pounded in my ears. Counting on the loss of his powers through the rose, I headed toward the gates.
“Bring back my beauty!” His voice boomed.
I shuddered. I didn't want to be another one of his beauties. Objects, souls, collected by the prince to rid himself of his loneliness.
I looked around the garden, and to my horror, drops of blood fell from the roses hitting the ground below. It had begun to snow, and I wondered if I had been at the castle longer than I had thought. The crimson on the white was oddly pleasing to the eye. I watched, mesmerized as the snow fell heavily, creating a thin white blanket over the grass.
“Who are you?” A small voice asked.
I looked down at my side and saw a clock. One of those old ones where you
could see the gears at the back. It looked almost human-like. The face of the clock looked like the face of a man and the middle looked like a small, button nose.
“Isabella,” I replied and looked back at the castle. “I don't know what I was thinking, staying here looking at the snow like a child. I should run while I have the chance.” I said aloud.
The clock grimaced. “These are the Enchanted Gardens. Everything here will play on your senses, entrance you. The goal is to entrap you, keep you dazed here.”
I looked around at the plants and realized they were moving. “Oh, God.”
“Indeed.” The clock replied. “While your attention has broken. Run. Get away from this place.”
I felt pity for the clock, well, the soul inside of it. “Come with me.” I offered.
“I can't. If I leave the castle, I'll turn to dust. His magic only works here.”
I furrowed my brows. “So, the rose, the one that was stolen, wouldn't work outside of here?”
“I don’t think so.”
I knelt down in front of the clock. “Tell me, please, how do I get out of here.”
“Go that way.” He pointed at the grass. “You’ll be safe.”
I lifted my dress above my ankles and ran through the snow turned blizzard. The gates were in my sight. I dared not to look at anything in the garden and just stared ahead at the gate. I needed to get back to my family.
I was almost out of the gardens. I could taste my freedom from that grand prison. I reached the grass.
Vines erupted through the ground around me before I could get any further. They wrapped themselves my leg. I looked around and saw I looked back and saw the clock standing there. He had tricked me!
“You!” I shouted. “I’ll crunch you into pieces,” I promised.
The vines got tighter. I struggled, but it was little use. On them, were hundreds of little thorns. They pierced through my skin. I felt sick.
The prince had emerged, behind him, a dozen guards. He stormed toward me and that’s when I knew.
Today was the day I would die.
Everything slowly faded to black as he reached me. I was so out of it that I swear I felt someone touch my hair and say my name softly.
***
I woke up early. I shot upright and looked around in blind panic.
Clarence was sitting beside me.
“Where am I?” I asked, noticing the room looked different to the one I had been locked away in. “What did you do to me?”
“Those vines are filled with venom. They pierced your skin. I saved you.”
I jolted back slightly, out of shock mostly. “Why would you help me? You know I don’t have your rose.”
He reached across and brushed his thumb against my cheek. “Oh, Isabella. I wish you were this aware all the time.”
I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I want you to know that.”
Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. “Then let me go.”
“I can’t.” He said all too quickly. “I’m sorry. I wish I could. For now, this is your home.”
I couldn’t mask my disgust if I tried. “I would never voluntarily choose to be one of your things.”
He laughed. “Oh, Isabella.” He said with that beautiful accent again. It was the accent of the old ones. It had faded out over the years. “I’m trying to help you.”
I scoffed. “I really don’t see how.”
“Lay down and rest. You’ll feel better by tomorrow.”
My dreams were unsteady. I slipped from one to another in a daze, as if they were real. I was trapped in a castle in them, but my captor wasn’t Clarence. It was the king of my nightmares. The dreams fizzled out and I slipped into another one. In this one, I was a child. I was waiting for my father to return home, but the house was empty, and no one came. My childhood home morphed into the castle walls. I was a teenager. When I tried to cry out, the door opened, a man stood there and just like that, I was transported back to my childhood home and everything was happy. My father was there, and everything was normal. Except I couldn’t shrug away a feeling. Something about it wasn’t quite right.
I woke up. Without hesitation, I pinched my arm to make sure I was awake.
Something didn’t feel right. As if reality and fantasy were somehow merging together.
When I woke up, I felt someone next to me. My adrenaline kicked in. Instinctively, I jumped out of bed and ran to the other side of the room. Clarence lifted his head from his pillow and looked at me attentively. “You’re awake.”
“What are you doing in my bed?” I gasped.
“Making sure you were okay. You were flailing around in your sleep. You had a temperature. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Stop it!” I screamed. “Stop acting like you care. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You tortured me.”
He looked sad. He got out of bed and walked over to me. He was wearing nothing but pants. “One day you will see.” He said and looked into my eyes. I was pressed up against the wall. The swirls of emotion I saw in his gaze ignited a passion in me. My body was betraying my rationality.
He moved closer, grabbing my waist with one hand, and breathed heavily as he looked into my eyes. “I can’t help myself with you.”
Before I had a chance to think, he pressed his lips against mine. It felt like fireworks had erupted in my veins. My heart pounded. His kiss diminished every bad thought I’d had of him. Kissing him felt familiar. It felt like home. I hadn’t realized it until now, but it was as if my every desire had been aching for him and finally, I could satisfy the beast inside of me.
We pulled apart. I felt like a deer at the mercy of a huntsman.
Don’t do it. I shouted at myself in my head. I didn’t listen. I knew that it was wrong. He had tortured me, and I hated that I had become the very thing I would roll my eyes at in some of the books I read. But I understood now. When women fell head over heels for a man who was bad for them, who was evil. I would think why, why would you do that? But being here, with him, I wanted to betray every rational thought. I needed him. I didn’t know why, but I did. At least for right now.
He laced his fingers down my arm, then kissed the nape of my neck.
I jumped as he reached the scars on my arm. I didn’t know how they got there. I was seeing things with clarity, and it was awful.
He kissed my scars, one by one. He pushed my hair out of my face and kissed my forehead. “I wish I could kiss every inch of you.” He said, breathlessly.
My lips parted and a moan escaped involuntarily. “Clarence.”
When he heard his name, I saw him melt. He looked at me the way someone would their wife.
“Stop,” I said as my reason came back to me in waves. “Stop. Get off me.”
He quickly stepped away and held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted too.”
I began to shake. “Get out. Just get out!”
He tried to cup my face with his hands, but I pushed him away.
“I said go!”
He shook his head and left the room. I couldn’t breathe properly. What was happening to me?
I didn’t understand any of the things he said to me. I didn’t understand his behavior. Everything was changing one minute from the next as if I was going from one dream to another.
I was a mess. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. My body was trembling. Tears came thick and fast down my cheeks. My arms and legs were covered with scars and I didn’t know how they got there. I was confused. I just wanted to go home. I sat on the cold floor, resting my head against the stone wall. I wrapped my arms around my legs and brought my knees up to my chest. “Please let me go home.” I cried, over and over, until there were no more tears.
Chapter Four
That night I fell quickly into a dreamless sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I felt like a veil had been lifted.
I tried to compartmentalize my though
ts, but I couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
Snippets of memories floated around my mind, but I couldn’t make sense of them. I remember being in a castle, wearing a champagne-coloured ball gown. A man was with me. He seemed friendly and had a kind smile. He was helping me, but I couldn’t figure out why. He was maybe just a little older than me. He even slightly looked like me. He had my nose.
Who was he?
“Good morning.” Clarence walked in a sat in the blue-plush chair at the end of the bed. “Are you feeling any better today?”
Something about him seemed different. Like I was seeing him in a whole new light. “I have questions,” I admitted. “Lots of them.”
He smirked. “It’s about time.”
He looked more carefree. He was happy to be in my company. He didn’t seem evil at all. Which begged my first question.
“Why did you torture me?”
“I didn’t.” He said in a deadpan tone. “I’d never do that.”
“But you did!” I said, flabbergasted that he would lie straight to my face about something so obvious. “I remember.”
He rested his hands on his lap and shook his head. He looked very regal today. His shoulder-length wavy hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His hair looked slicked. It showed his beautiful, diamond-shaped face off. His eyes, almond shaped with creases at the corner, suited his long nose. Nothing was out of proportion, except for a small scar on the right side of his head.
His travelling cloak was hanging on my door. I saw it in the corner of my eye. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Now is the time. I need to go and see my brother.”
My heart leapt. “So, the stories are completely true about you and your two brothers.”
His lips curved upward. “Depends on the stories you’ve heard.”
His expression was playful. Looking at him then, I couldn’t believe for a second that he was the villain. He couldn’t be.
I searched my mind for the words of the story. “It’s in my book.”