by Ophelia Silk
She knew that she had a chance, if she behaved just right. And this, at least, was a challenge she knew how to rise to. She disentangled herself from her mother’s grip, throwing herself into William’s arms. She let all of the desperation that she felt crowd her voice. “Please don’t go in there!”
“Jane…” In spite of himself, she could hear the pleased note in William’s voice. She very rarely initiated contact between them, merely tolerating his touch instead. A hand reached up to stroke her head. “Dear one…”
“The witch is frightening.” She let a note of trembling seep into her voice. “Frightening and awful and strange. But I do not think she is dangerous, and she would never leave the forest anyway. Please. I’m safe now, thanks to you. All I want is to forget that any of this ever happened.” She looked into William’s eyes, knowing how her own would look, shining with tears. “Promise me you won’t go in there.” She turned to her father. “Both of you. Let’s put an end to this. All I want is for everything to go back to normal.”
William’s fingers in her hair were clumsy and blunt, tugging uncomfortably on the blonde strands. But she leaned into it as though she found it comforting.
Finally, her father sighed. “Very well. Let’s thank God that we got you back safe and put this nightmare behind us.”
Jane looked up at William. For a moment, awfully, she was sure that he’d protest. He was looking at the forest with the blackest expression. But then his gaze drifted down to her, and his eyes softened.
“Alright,” he said. “Alright. Let’s just put all of this behind us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A Broken Heart
JANE LAY IN bed, unable to sleep.
Her familiar room felt cold and distant now. She didn’t want to be here. As comfortable as it was to be back among people, this was all wrong. This wasn’t what she wanted.
She got dressed quickly in a sturdy blouse and warm skirts. She paused once in the hallway, listening for the even breathing of her parents. Then she paused again before she hit the living room.
William was sleeping on the couch—insisted on it, to ensure that Jane was safe and that she wouldn’t wake up afraid and in need of comfort. He probably would have forced himself into her room if he could do it without her parents knowing. She felt very grateful for the rules that kept such a thing from happening.
She slipped past him silently, carefully avoiding the boards that she knew creaked. She grabbed her cloak, checked the pockets for Edelweiss petals, and slipped into the night.
The cold air bit at her exposed cheeks, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. She just needed to go back to where she could actually feel like herself—and maybe sometimes it was frightening and sometimes it was hard, but at least she could be touched and not shy away from it.
“The grass is always greener, isn’t it?” Voices in the forest hissed as she ran. “Poor Jane. Why not just throw those petals from your pockets and be done with all of it?”
Jane ducked her head and grit her teeth. The weak command to make herself vulnerable was easy to ignore, but the taunts were significantly less so. Hadn’t part of her enjoyed the role that she played? How easy it was?
“But it is just a role,” she murmured to herself. “It wasn’t me.”
She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. Certainly not the beasts that lurked in the woods. But that left only her.
She wandered the forest for hours, until the chill seeped into her bones and exhaustion clung to her heels. Finally, she was rewarded by the familiar outline of the cottage. The comfort that washed over her was as warm as the fireplace that would surely still be on—it was late, but Adelaide often stayed up late, and surely she would be waiting for Jane…
Jane rushed to the door, knocking. “Adelaide? Adelaide, it’s me.” There was no answer. Worry curled in Jane’s chest. Had Adelaide gone out to look for her? Was she hurt? Jane’s heart pounded hard against her ribs, thinking of the possibilities. She pushed the door and found it unlocked. “Is anyone—”
Adelaide was not out looking. Adelaide was not hurt. She was sitting by the fire, glaring at the door.
“Rather impolite to barge into someone’s house without being greeted, isn’t it, Jane?”
Adelaide’s sneering voice brought her up short, gripping the doorknob. But, of course, Adelaide would be angry. Jane ducked her head, closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry, you must have been so worried.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I didn’t mean to stay away as long as I did. I just—”
“I know exactly what happened, Jane.”
Jane looked up. Adelaide’s eyes weren’t totally hard from anger, she saw. There were tears glittering in them, hard as diamonds, refusing to fall.
“The witch is frightening,” Adelaide said in an even, measured tone. “Frightening and awful and strange. That is what you said, isn’t it, Jane? I can’t imagine why you’d want to return here, if that was truly how you feel.”
Jane’s stomach dropped. “That’s not how I feel,” she said. “You know that’s not how I feel.”
“Do I?” Adelaide scoffed, shaking her head. “I don’t know the first thing about how you feel, that’s what I think. It’s not as though you’re honest about it.”
“You’re not being—”
“Fair? Kind?” Adelaide laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away viciously. “I’m done with that. What’s the point in trying if you won’t extend me the same courtesy?”
“I—”
“No, you listen.” Adelaide whirled on her, eyes blazing. “I would have forgiven, you know. If you hadn’t told them the truth about us. I would have never expected that of you—I’m not as cruel naturally as you seem to think I am. But you didn’t… you didn’t have to say those things about me. Those awful things.”
Jane’s heart broke at the hurt in Adelaide’s voice. “I was trying to protect you.”
“No, you weren’t.” Adelaide let out a laugh. “Maybe you think you were, but you weren’t.”
“They wanted to come find your cottage! Hurt you!”
“And what would they have done, Jane, if you had simply told them that I had helped you? That I gave you medicine and sent you on your way?” Jane was silent, stunned. Adelaide nodded as if expecting this. “I’ll tell you, Jane—they would’ve left me alone. But they would have been far, far warier around you, knowing you had come in contact with me, knowing you had tolerated my company. Or am I wrong?”
Jane kept silent. Adelaide was right, and that was the hell of it. She hadn’t even considered saying that she had any interaction with Adelaide, because she knew that wasn’t the best option. She knew how to play the game, and that meant ignoring options that didn’t benefit her.
“I’m just as human as anyone else,” Adelaide said, quiet. “I have a heart that’s capable of breaking, just like anyone else.”
“Adelaide.” Jane stepped forward, trying to lay a hand on Adelaide’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Adelaide, I—”
“No.” Adelaide stepped out of Jane’s reach. It wasn’t a violent gesture, which was somehow worse. Adelaide was perfectly cold, composed in the worst way, even as her eyes turned hard as flint. “I can’t do this anymore, Jane. It’s abundantly clear what this is.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not enough for you. I’ll never be enough for you. Our lives—what we want with them—they’re too different.” She looked at Jane. “I loved you, Jane. More than I thought possible. But I don’t want to love someone who will throw my name through the mud the second it benefits her.”
“Adelaide,” Jane whispered. She couldn’t seem to manage more than that. “Adelaide, please.”
Tears were tracking down Adelaide’s cheeks. She turned away. “I thought, after all this time… I had found someone who understood me. I see now that I’m wrong.” Adelaide sighed. “Go home, Jane. Or don’t. Find a place far
away, and a woman you can be happy with. But that woman isn’t me. I think, deep down, you know that.”
Her voice was hollow, completely without its usual sureness. “You don’t believe that,” Jane said. “We can find a way to make this work—”
“I don’t want to,” Adelaide said. She turned on Jane, and her eyes were so full of pain that Jane recoiled a few steps on instinct. “Please, Jane. I’m tired. I’m done. Please, just leave me be. This is the life that I choose.”
This was not the high tempers of this morning, Jane realized. This was not something that Jane could just let die down, not a problem they could just kiss away. It was a fundamental difference between the two of them. Perhaps, with a lot of work, or with some sort of luck, they’d be able to solve it.
But Adelaide wasn’t willing to put in that work. Adelaide was not willing to wait for that luck.
Adelaide was done.
Jane lifted her head. “Very well.” She walked to Adelaide in slow, careful steps, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Adelaide did not draw away from the gesture, but neither did she lean into it. “Goodbye, Adelaide.” Her voice cracked.
She took one last look around the cabin. Again, she imagined a life here—a life full of love, a life she could never have. With children and a community, people who were free to be who they were together. A life with Adelaide at her side but so many other people at their backs, urging them forward, caring about them.
“Have you ever thought,” Jane said quietly, “that this forest might be brighter with a few more houses in it?”
“… I’m only human,” Adelaide admitted. “Sometimes I have. But you have to know that’s impossible, Jane. We have to choose what we want in this world. Freedom or security. I’ve made my choice. And deep down, I think you’ve made yours, too.”
Jane sighed. Adelaide was right. She was right, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it. Part of her, no matter how free she was, would always long for the security that being in a community would bring.
She wanted to linger. Wanted one last kiss. But she thought that this would make it even harder to leave.
So, with a heavy heart, she faced the door. And she walked through it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A Chained Destiny
WHAT WOULD SHE do now?
The thought haunted her as she made her way back to her parent’s farm. She thought about Adelaide’s suggestion. Of finding a place far away, a community that she could be herself in. But she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to make that journey. Wasn’t sure if she wanted to make that journey, without Adelaide at her side.
But staying here felt intolerable, as well. What she really wanted was for someone else to make the decision for her. She wanted it taken out of her hands entirely.
She sighed as her parents’ farm came back into view. Shrouded in moonlight, it looked unfamiliar and strange. But it would do as shelter for now, as she tried to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. It was a life that suddenly felt very exhausting.
“Jane.”
Jane jumped and whirled at the sound of the voice. William stood, leaning against the barn. The shadows obscured his face, making it difficult to read his expression. Jane swallowed. “William. I was just…”
“Visiting the witch, I assume.”
Whatever words Jane had shriveled and died in her throat. She blinked, trying to look as confused as possible, vulnerable and unsure. “W-Why would you—”
“It’s sweet, the way you furrow your brow like that.” William stepped toward her, stroking a fingertip along the spot where her brows drew together. “You didn’t make that face in the witch’s garden, though, did you?”
Jane felt cold, remembering the eyes that she had felt on her when kissing Adelaide for the first time. “I…”
“I saw the kiss, Jane.”
There were no words, hearing her worst fears confirmed. A high ringing started up in the depths of her ears.
“I’d gone into the forest looking for you.” William shook his head, disappointment in his features. “Worried about you. To see that…”
Part of her wanted to claim that it was all Adelaide’s fault, that she had seduced her, that she didn’t know any better. To play up the innocent angle. She was ashamed at her own cowardice. Hadn’t Adelaide accused her of this very thing?
“Please,” Jane said. “Don’t hurt her. And don’t hurt me.”
William hummed. “Poor thing. Dear, you should know that I would never hurt you. I’m a good man. But I am disappointed, to hear you still defending her. Maybe I should tell your parents all that you experienced. Surely they could help you.”
Jane felt sick. She could only imagine what her parents would do if they knew. “No. Please, no. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” William smiled. “Well, that is a tempting proposition indeed.”
“I’m never going back there.” Jane spoke hurriedly, wanting to convince him while she could. “I swear it, William. Ad—the witch and I are finished.”
“Then I suppose there’s no need to go after her,” William mused, and Jane felt her heart soar. It landed with a painful thump as he continued. “Assuming you marry me, of course.”
Jane’s breath left her. How could William even want her as a wife, knowing what he knew? It wasn’t possible. It didn’t make sense. “What?”
“Dear, dear woman.” He stroked her cheek. It might have been a tender gesture, if the glint in his eyes hadn’t been utterly predatory. “You need someone to watch over you, that much is clear. To make sure that you don’t slip up again. A good man. I could be that for you, dear.”
Jane looked down. She wanted to run, screaming, back into the woods. Run from the future she should have wanted, but never could. “A good man deserves a good wife,” she said, gentle. “Surely, I would just be a burden to you. Better for everyone if I just leave.”
She’d rather face the world without Adelaide than face the town with William at her side. She put on her most demure face, the sort of thing that always got him to agree with her.
But now his eyes were hard, but there was a glee glittering deep within them. Part of him was enjoying this. “I disagree,” William said. “In fact, if you were to leave? I believe I would have to tell your parents why. And who knows what your father would do to the witch then. But maybe you don’t care about that.”
Jane’s breath turned to ice in her throat. “Don’t do this.”
“Dear. It’s better this way, you’ll see.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. And that glee was stronger than ever. He enjoyed having this power over her. “You were always meant to be mine. You’ve known it for a while. It’s fine for a woman to be nervous. But the time has come to accept my proposal. You know it’s what you’re meant to do.”
The implicit threats lingered below the surface of his words. If she didn’t do this, Adelaide would be hurt. Part of her wanted to disagree anyway, to leave Adelaide to her own devices, just as Adelaide had left her.
But if she left now, knowing that it would likely mean Adelaide’s death or at least her being run out of the house she loved more than even Jane herself, how could she live with herself? How could she look her own reflection in the eye?
“If I agree to marry you,” Jane said, her throat dry, “you’ll leave the witch alone?”
“As long as you agree to never see her again,” William said, his voice even. He had on a smile that was almost solicitous, as though he were conferring a great favor. Or maybe just indulging a child in a petty desire.
Never see her again. The words rang in her mind like a church bell, dull and keening. She hung her head, doing her best to hold back tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of William, not about this. “I told you, it’s over between us,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Then it’s settled. I see no need to waste time or energy on her if she’s no longer a threat.” His fingers began to wind in
her hair, a mockery of kindness. “Dear. My dear. This is for the best. You’ll see. You’ll be happier like this, among your family. Among your peers.”
And the horrid part was, part of Jane agreed with him. That agreement spread through her like spiderweb cracks through a mirror, emanating an icy numbness that wrapped around her heart with a thorny grip. It tightened, squeezing the life out of her. She actually felt it go.
She thought about the exhilaration she felt, doing magic in Adelaide’s garden.
The fondness that warmed her insides when Adelaide smiled.
The desire that washed over her in front of the fire, in the bath.
All of that flickered out in an instant, like a candle. And a part of Jane died.
“You’re right,” she said, and her voice was as dull and lifeless as the grave. “Of course, you’re right.”
Somewhere deep within her, there was screaming and protest. She didn’t think that the voice would be protesting for long. Deep down, she’d known that this was always what she was meant to become. Her experience with Adelaide in the woods was just a momentary reprieve, too good to last.
So even though the words tasted like bile, she spoke. “Thank you, William. For showing me the error of my ways, for agreeing to save me from myself. I am forever in your debt.”
William blinked at her, a pleased flush appearing on his cheeks. His smile was oddly boyish, charming as he drew her toward him. “I can think of how you could begin to repay me, my dear.” And he kissed her.
There was no revulsion in this kiss. Only a weary sort of acceptance, barely an emotion at all. Jane closed her eyes and did not think of Adelaide’s long hair, her soft skin, her dark, sparkling eyes in the firelight.
Those memories didn’t belong to her anymore. Not the woman she was now.
William stepped away, getting to his knee in the snow. The moonlight turned his gray eyes silver, and while some might have seen it as romantic, to Jane they seemed to take on an almost predatory sheen. “Jane Paris,” he said. “Will you marry me?”