DOTD Chapter 6-7

A visit to James. A symbol is discovered. A murder unfolds.

Chapter Six


I blinked my groggy eyes open, the morning light filtering gently through the sheer linen curtains. A dull ache had rooted itself at the base of my skull, my muscles stiff and unyielding. It felt like someone had stuffed bricks into my pillow. I’d tossed and turned all night, sleep refusing to settle. My mind wouldn’t stop racing, replaying conversations on a loop. Even my dreams had been haunted by a pair of piercing green eyes.
I felt awful. Almost as bad as the time I’d drained the liquor cabinet last winter. My head throbbed, and the weight of exhaustion dragging at my limbs made me want to scream. But I needed to get up early enough to get a message to James announcing my arrival.
I dragged myself upright with a groan, every movement stiff and reluctant. My limbs felt heavy, like they were filled with sand, and my spine protested as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The sheets clung to me like they, too, were unwilling to let me go. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, I sat there for a moment, head in my hands, trying to summon the will to stand. It felt less like waking up and more like dragging myself out of a grave.
I rang for Eleanor. The letter I’d written to James was sitting upright on my desk, waiting to be whisked away. I would have her give the note to the messenger as soon as possible. Getting myself to look presentable would be up to me this morning.

I stumbled over to the large golden mirror, still tangled in a cocoon of bed sheets. A sleepy, bed-headed mess stared back at me and yawned. It was painfully obvious I hadn’t slept well—dark crescent moons clung to the skin beneath my eyes, and my lips were chapped and dry. I stared at my reflection and wondered how Aurora ever got the name “Sleeping Beauty”. I was going to need at least an hour of grooming just to look alive.

“Why not just wear this sheet today?” I mused, smiling to myself.

I turned to the side, striking exaggerated poses in the mirror, making pouty faces like some tragic heroine draped in linen. Just then, the door creaked open and Eleanor stepped in—only to catch me mid-twirl, sheet wrapped like a makeshift gown.
She blinked once, twice, then raised a perfectly unimpressed brow.

“Well,” she said dryly, “I see madness set in early this morning.”

I burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that shook loose the last dregs of sleep. Maybe today wouldn’t be so dreadful after all.
I scuffed along the floor towards the letter, my feet still tangled in the sheets. Handing the note to Eleanor, I gave her a large, silly smile.

“Get this to a messenger as soon as possible. It will need to be delivered to the Estridsen household,” I said.

She took the letter with a look that said she was both skeptical and deeply concerned for my dignity.
“Of course, Miss Fluer,” she replied, her tone dry. “Shall I inform them you dictated this in your royal bedsheets?”

I smirked, flopping dramatically onto the edge of the bed. “Tell them I was draped in the finest linen in all of Innswood. And possibly still half-asleep.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes and turned to go, muttering something about “nobles and their flair for drama” under her breath. I watched her leave, the smile slipping from my lips as I stared at the now-empty doorway. The weight of what that letter contained settled back on my shoulders, heavier than the warmth of my sheets. At this rate, I was grasping for straws.

While I’d spent the night tossing from one side of the bed to the other, I had at least managed to dream up an outfit for today. A gown the color of a clear spring sky—light, airy, and romantic. The bodice was structured with corset boning, its neckline a soft, sweeping heart shape. Small puffed sleeves of sheer tulle sat atop my shoulders like delicate flower buds. The same gauzy fabric cascaded in layered waves down the skirt, falling over one another like a gentle waterfall.

After spending an ungodly amount of time detangling the long layers of my hair, I finally pinned it up in loose waves. Wisps of midnight fell free at the nape of my neck and framed my face with soft, effortless curls. Once I’d dabbed a bit of light powder beneath my eyes to mask the shadows of insomnia, I reached for a strawberry from the breakfast tray. Biting into the ripe fruit, I used its sweet, rosy stain to tint my lips.

“Not bad!” I said, checking my reflection once more in the mirror.

I look like a summer breeze carrying tumbles of dark rain clouds pinned to my crown. The finishing touch was always a drop of fragrant oil to each wrist. Sweet wafts of peony and honeysuckle greeted my nose. Now I smelled like a summer breeze, too.
I snatched up my coin purse and the sketches within and made my way to the carriage. Edwin was waiting with his usual polite disposition. I let the carriage pull me away from the pebbled drive to what felt like a small gleam of hope. Gazing out at the passing world, I thought hard and long about the things I did know.

My finger, the blood, the witch, the stranger. There had to be some sort of connection between them- some piece of evidence that made it all make sense. Something small I’d missed, a thread waiting to be pulled. The witch’s words echoed in my mind, cryptic and clawing, and the stranger’s ring still burned in my memory like a brand. I could feel it, just out of reach—the answer in the shadows, watching, waiting to be found.

“ Woahh,” Edwin called to the horses.

The carriage slowed, and I was jarred from my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized that we were here. I gathered my layered skirts and allowed Edwin to assist me out of the carriage.

Heavens.

The estate was vast, a sweeping masterpiece of towering limestone and intricate molding. Rows upon rows of tall, cream-colored windows caught the morning light, while a grand, ornate balcony stood at the center, perfectly positioned to survey the endless sprawl of lush gardens. In every way, it outshone our own manor.
I glided down the evergreen-lined drive, the floral summer air wrapping softly around me. Lavender and gardenias bloomed in great swaths along the path, their fragrance growing stronger with every step. Groves of dogwood trees, heavy with white blossoms, curled gracefully around the edges of the estate. It was a paradise, drenched in delicate pastels and perfumed with the sweetness of summer bloom.

In that moment, I didn't fault Aurelia for wanting this life even if her motives were for power and not love. This would be a very fine way to live indeed. I only wish for James’ sake that he could share his heart with his betrothed, not just his wealth.
A stout, short fellow in finely pressed tails awaited me at the door. He was a funny-looking sort of man, with a large curled mustache and a round button nose. But he stood with poise and dignity, that plump nose turned up into the expensive air. He was defending his post with his life and his civil duty.

I approached the butler and announced myself.
“ I'm here to visit Mr. James Estridsen,” I said with as much elevated rank as I could muster.
Even as it was, growing up in a wealthy house, I was still not accustomed to or practiced in the formal greetings and inflection of a graceful tone. It had always seemed cold to me. Just another useless formality, and one apparently, if said wrong, could determine what kind of lady you were.

“ Mr. Estridsen is expecting you, madam,” the butler said in the mousiest voice I’d ever heard. “Right this way.”
I stifled a laugh behind my fan, surprised by his unexpectedly high voice. I supposed he spoke just as he appeared—small and round.

The inside of the manor was even more opulent than the exterior, easily twice, if not three times, as grand. The click of my lace-heeled boots echoed against the diamond-patterned marble of the great foyer. Twin staircases curved upward in sweeping arcs, leading to what I imagined were endless corridors of lavish bedrooms... and the libraries.
The short butler ushered me through one magnificent room after another, each space adorned from floor to ceiling in vibrant wallpaper, ornate crown molding, and glittering crystal chandeliers. Crossing a large sunroom, we arrived at the door to a towering ivory greenhouse.
“ Mr. Estridsen is waiting for you inside,” he said and swung the entrance wide for me to step through.

I nodded my thanks and tucked away my amusement at him for a sad day. As I crossed the hearth, fine mist kissed my skin and tickled my nose. The sounds of birds chirping echoed off the large stained-glass panes, their melody light and cheerful. Sunlight poured through the vibrant glass, scattering pools of color across the floor—ruby, sapphire, emerald—like a mosaic come to life.
I paused for a moment, letting the warmth settle on my face and humidity curl my hair into tighter ringlets, almost forgetting the reason I was here.

“James!” I called over the troves of lush green and the buzz of hummingbirds darting by.

I was a tad anxious. After what happened at the Spring Forward celebration, I wasn’t sure how this interaction was going to play out. Would he be hurt? Would he be angry with me? I bit my lip nervously as I scanned the greenhouse for that familiar blonde hair.
“ Fluer, you're here! I was worried you weren't going to make it,” said a kind male voice.

James appeared from out of the brush in a smashing shade of navy blue. His long, loose tumbles of golden hair shone brightly in the sunlight, and he wore a large, genuine smile.

He’s smiling. I guess that's a good sign.
I strolled towards him, meeting him halfway. The sun-kissed mist wrapped around us.

“ I'm here. I apologize for the delay. My handmaiden was detained this morning, so I was left to my own demise in becoming presentable,” I replied, offering him a wary smile.

He glanced at my sky blue gown and took his time raking over my facial features, his eyes settling on my strawberry-stained lips. He took my gloved hand in his and gently kissed the top of it.

“ You look beautiful,” he said and offered me his arm.
I smiled in return and hooked my arm in his as we began our stroll out of the greenhouse and into the gardens.

“ So!” he said cheerfully. “ To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“ I need a favor,” I began, “ If you’ll be so inclined. I know I was quite rude to you not long ago. I understand that I don’t have much ground to be asking for your help.”

“ Fluer, it’s me who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have sprung things on you like that. Any other person in your position would’ve reacted the same way…” he said, shaking his head down at his feet. “ I was elated when I heard you’d be visiting today. I haven’t had a chance for a moment alone with you with the wedding plans and all…”

I could hear the distant ache in his tone, each word that left his lips more soul-weary than the next.

“ Yes, the wedding…,” I said awkwardly.

“ Don’t worry. I’ve resigned my heart to your sister. I don’t plan on professing my love to anyone else in the near future,” he said, attempting at light-hearted humor.

My heart saddened as I watched the distance in his eyes when he spoke of Aurelia. All anyone ever wanted to talk about was how amiable it was for a young lady to marry up in society. No one ever paid mind to the poor gentlemen who committed the rest of their lives and their pocketbooks till death do they part. And I was certain that would be his fate when he married Aurelia. I hesitated asking my next question, but I cared for James even if it was more in the way of a sisterly love.

“ Do you love her?” I asked softly, my words still and quiet.

His gaze lingered on the distant treeline, unfocused and far away, as if his thoughts were somewhere deep within the woods themselves. We continued our stroll in silence, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel beneath our steps. After a long, weighted pause, he finally spoke—his voice low, touched with something unreadable
.
“ I think I could learn to,” he said, unable to meet my eyes. “ These types of arrangements happen all the time. It turns out well for some.”

He spoke like a man trying to convince himself as much as he was convincing me. A bitter chill coiled in my gut—hatred, cold and unrelenting. It burned for the Duke, for James’s father, for every self-serving parent who bartered their children’s futures like coins for status.

“ But don’t you think that's cruel?” I asked earnestly. “ To shut off a part of yourself that could experience true and relentless love? To forgo passion for the sake of duty? To only know someone on the surface, not the depths of their soul? I want to live and breathe that type of love.”

He was watching me, admiring the passion lacing my words and written across my intense expression.
“ You have such a way with words,” he said, his blue eyes lost in my own. “ You’re right. But unfortunately, some of us do not own the rights to our own hearts. Sometimes what the heart wants, it cannot have.”

He was looking down at my arm delicately laced in his. A flush rose to my cheeks.

He was talking about me.

“ James-” I started. My voice held a soft plea.

“You don’t need to say anything. I already know where your heart lies,” he said, looking back out at the horizon. “ It’s okay, really. I’m just glad you’re here.”

He shook his shoulders slightly and stood taller.
“ Now,” he said brightly. “ What of this favor?”

Grateful for a change in subject, I gathered my words I’d rehearsed to ask him.

“ Well… I’m solving a sort of mystery, if you will. There was a man that Father invited to dinner a week ago. A strange fellow, tall and dark. I’ve never seen him before. I'm curious about his involvement, but everyone I’ve asked knows nothing of this man.”
James’s eyebrow lifted in curiosity as I explained. I broke from his arm to rummage through my coin purse, retrieving the sketches.

“ He wears a large ring, a black one. There’s some sort of symbol etched into the center.” I said, pointing to the eclipsed moon I’d drawn the night before. “ I’d hoped it was a familial crest. Maybe a nod at his lineage.”

“ Ahh, and this is where I come in,” he said, finally piecing together my words. “ You want to know if I have any knowledge of this man or his family.”

“ Yes, and perhaps a few borrowed hours in your libraries,” I said meekly.

“ What mine is yours, always,” he replied with sincerity. And I knew he meant it.

I spent the next thirty minutes filling James in on the stranger’s description, what the townsfolk saw, and Gideon's interaction with him in the market. I rambled to him my theories and ideas, hoping he could provide me with some sort of answer.
James stood still, eyes unfocused, the gears in his mind grinding slowly behind a furrowed brow. Fingers tapped absentmindedly against his lips as he retraced each detail, weighing it, turning it over like a puzzle piece that refused to fit.

“ You’re definitely right about the symbol being uncommon. He’s certainly not from Innswood,” he said, thinking out loud. “ I do find it odd that my father has not had similar dealings with him. You know these great men always run in packs, sharing the same circles.”

“ There is a trove of history books containing names of families that have amounted to anything over the years. Perhaps, it would be best to start there.”

“ I think you're right,” I chimed in agreement.

A loud, traitorous grumble from my stomach hijacked our conversation. I winced as warmth rushed to my cheeks. James just grinned, clearly enjoying my moment of humiliation a little too much.

“ Or maybe we'd better have tea and sandwiches before. You can’t solve a mystery on an empty stomach,” he said, laughing lightly.

I joined him in laughter, embarrassment rolling off of me. It was good to have my friend back.

“ You sound just like Eowyn,” I replied, taking his arm once more.

“ Well, she’s right then! It’s settled. A delicious lunch, then we’ll be off to the libraries to research to our hearts' content.”



Servants appeared with silver trays of delicate cucumber sandwiches and sweet biscuits. I helped myself, savoring each bite and washing it down with two steaming cups of hibiscus tea. James watched with quiet satisfaction. It wasn’t just that I appreciated his hospitality—he seemed to relish simply having me close.

I allowed his lingering gazes—the kind I’d grown used to over the years. There was something oddly comforting about them, perhaps because they came so often, so effortlessly. The poor man was doomed to a lifetime with Aurelia; the least I could offer him was a pleasant view. It was harmless, or so I liked to believe. Either it meant nothing… or I was dangerously close to making him fall for me even harder.

I finish chewing my final bite of an orange-glazed biscuit. James was smiling, most likely satisfied with himself to be needed.

“ Are you sure you got enough? I can have the kitchen staff whip up anything your heart desires. Name it and it’s done,” he said, watching the way I brought the rim of my teacup to my lips.

I fidgeted slightly under his gaze and set down the china cup.
“ I'm quite full. Thank you, James,” I said to him.

And I meant it, too. I hoped that one day Aurelia would stop chasing the shallow, fleeting things of this world and discover the endearment of James’s heart. He was so thoughtful, so earnest to please.

“ Well then, let us proceed into the libraries. I'm quite excited to show you really. I know how your nose is always stuck in your books,” he exclaimed, and stood to his feet.

He really had been paying attention…
In truth, he was absolutely right. The part of me not consumed by anxiety over the stranger’s identity lit up like a child promised ice cream. I scolded myself inwardly, refusing to let my thoughts wander too far when we entered—or, worse, slip into the romance section. Last night, with Rune still clung to the edges of my heart like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“ Lead the way, Lord Estridsen,” I said playfully.

He gave me a large, delighted grin in return and offered me his hand to help me to my feet. I took it willingly and allowed him to lead me through the maze of luxury once more until we reached a pair of golden-leafed doors, so tall, they reached the ceiling.
He turned to face me before twisting the knob, eyes lit with excitement.

“ Ready?” he said.

I nodded, eager to be swallowed into an inky papered heaven.
James swung the gleaming doors wide, and the comforting homey smell of pages wrapped its arms around me. Breathing in dreams and wonder, I gawked in awe at the sheer size of the library. It was three stories high, each level overflowing with shelves of books that seemed to stretch for miles. The ceiling was a mosaic dome of crystal glass, atleast fifty feet above. Sunlight filtered through in soft beams, casting playful shadows that danced across the polished marble floor in shifting shapes and designs.

A few hours? Hah! I’ll need a few weeks.

There were so many books, so many possibilities, it felt impossible to find what I needed in such a short time. Mouth slightly open, eyes wide, I slowly turned in place, taking in the walls stacked with story after story. I didn’t know what heaven would be like, but I hoped it would look like this.

Was it possible to fall in love with a room?

I wasn't sure, but the shadowed parts of my heart seemed to reach for the sunlight, wanting life, choosing life.
Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed James watching me with quiet, contented pride.

“I take it you’re impressed, then?” he said, leaning into my view with a knowing grin.

Impressed didn’t begin to cover it—I was in utter awe. Books had always felt like home, though I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever known what home truly meant. Still, I liked to believe the tender warmth I melted into while lost in their pages came close.

“ James, I don’t have the words…” I trailed off, my starry eyes still reaching corners of the library I hadn’t discovered yet. It was never-ending. “ It’s like a dream.”

He took my arm in his once more and began leading me through the vast maze of legends and tall tales.
“ It pleases me to see you this happy,” he said softly, watching me drink in my surreal surroundings.

“ I could spend every waking hour here,” I spoke into the echoes of silence that drifted through the towering shelves, as if the books themselves were holding their breath to listen.

I turned to face James, my face flushed with excitement. His expression fell into something more remote. Yearning glossed over his ocean eyes.

He cleared his throat. “ The history section is this way.”

He let go of my arm and began walking towards a section near the tall window. I fell in step behind him, curious at his sudden shift in mood.

Eager to break the silence, I asked, “ Do you enjoy reading?” from behind him.

“ I had a tutor growing up, Professor Barnabas Flint. Orangest mustache you’ve ever seen. We would sit for hours in this section. Poor man had a time trying to get me on task.”

I smiled to myself, picturing a large rusty-colored mustache and little James soaring paper airplanes through the open library instead of studying. I padded softly behind him, relaxing into the sound of his voice, recalling old memories.

“ I hated learning then. I wanted to be a knight, galloping into battle in glistening steel armor. At that age, I would have gladly preferred slaying dragons to gaining an education. I think over the years, my admiration for books grew, even for history. It’s fascinating to live through someone else in the words you read.”

My heart swelled with knowing. It had been that same feeling that had kept me company late at night, lulling me to sleep. They had been my friends as I strolled for hours in the woods, crunching leaves and twigs underfoot. They had been my family when the only soul who saw me was Eowyn.
Perhaps, I didn’t know James as well as I thought I did….

He continued on, smiling in fondness as he plucked a thick crimson history book off the shelf.
“ I would come here a lot. Sat right up there,” he said, pointing to a nook on the third-story balcony. “ Father would have a fit when I didn’t show to his business meetings. It angered him that I would rather hole up in the library than learn his trade.”

“ And now?” I asked curiously.

“ I still don’t necessarily enjoy chatting about oil tycoons or being a patron of the sciences, but the world still must turn on its axis, and with it, its busy workers. Besides, dreaming of slaying dragons at my age would most definitely be cause for concern,” he snorted softly.

I scoffed with amusement, listening to him reminisce.
“ I wish the world weren't so gray,” I murmured, glancing around the vast library once more.
His focus returned to me, letting my words soak into his mind. “ The world needs people like you, Fluer. Ones that see color. Ones that wonder.”

His words were endearing- simple, kind, and sincerely meant. I didn’t know how to respond or how to feel. No one had ever spoken to me that way, with that sort of reverence. I paused for a moment.

“ Thank you,” I replied softly.

His eyes lingered in mine for a moment, then snapped down to the book he held.
“ Ah, yes, well. Listen to us rambling. Here! Let's start with this one,” he said, holding up the large red book in both hands.
He took his place at the mahogany table between us and flipped it open.

I dragged a chair next to him and sat, peering over his shoulder. I could tell the book hadn’t been read in a very long time.. A cloud of dust sifted into the air as James continued to flip the pages. I held back a sneeze.

“ Family names, occupations, donations, monuments….” he mumbled, mindlessly skimming through chapters. “ Aha! Family crests!”

I scooted closer to him, trying to see better. Our shoulders brushed slightly, and I could feel his whole body tense at the small touch. I pretended not to notice, focusing intently on the illustrations. He dragged his finger along the pages searching for the symbol I’d sketched. There was a silver owl with outstretched wings, a golden thorned tree, a bold phoenix, and many other creatures with descriptions of their meanings. He kept flipping till we reached the last page of the chapter. His finger stopped on what appeared to match my drawing.

“ Let me see your sketch again,” he said, biting his lip in concentration.

I rushed for my purse, hastily pulling the sketch out and laying it flat on the table next to the history book. Sure enough, the symbols matched.

Holy shit.

A thrill of anxiety or excitement, I wasn't sure which, shivered through my body and prickled the bottoms of my feet. James and I both looked at each other in elevated success.

“ It’s a match,” I said, a bit breathless. “ What does the symbol mean? Does it belong to anyone?”

“ Let me check,” he said, whipping his head back to the page to read the fine print description below.

“ This is an ancient crest,” he said, paraphrasing the text. “ No one bears the symbol anymore. Every descendant of this house died a very long time ago. Are you sure this is what Gideon saw?”

I nodded, confirming what I’d been told. Gideon wasn’t wealthy, but he was sharp—a shrewd businessman. He had a keen eye for reading people, always drawing in the right crowd to buy what he was selling. I trusted his judgment, especially when it came to noticing when something was out of the ordinary.

James gave me a skeptical look but turned back to the passage to resume his reading aloud.
“ Like I said, it’s an old symbol. But it says here, the sigil is a royal-blue eclipsed moon surrounded by black feathers. The eclipsed moon can symbolize liminality—standing between two worlds: light/dark, mortal/immortal, life/death. It represents truth hidden behind veils— a family that guards ancient secrets,” he read aloud, his expression as confused as mine was.

He continued, his words slow and confused. “ Could be linked to blood magic or sacrifice?”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs.

My pulse spiked, a jolt of cold panic shooting through my limbs.

“What?” I breathed, but the word barely made it past my lips.

The world seemed to tilt—voices faded, colors dulled. My mind scrambled to process the words, but they echoed, loud and senseless, like a crash that wouldn’t stop ringing.

“ Yeah, that’s what it says,” he replied, turning to face me. “ Hey, woah. You’re really pale. Are you okay?”
The pressure now surging through my finger felt as if it was going to break through the surface of my skin, piercing and sharp.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

James cupped my face in his hands. “ Hey, hey. Look at me. Breathe. It’s okay, breathe.”

I obeyed, my eyes meeting his. I inhaled a deep, shaky breath, keeping my focus on his warm, concerned face. He brushed a wave of my hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ear.

“ Hey, it's okay. Deep breaths,” he said softly, inhaling with me.

My heart rate slowed somewhat, but the pain, the actual pain, in my finger persisted. For the first time since I’d met the stranger, I felt genuine fear of discovering him, of what this all meant.

James was still holding my face in his hands, steadily petting my hair to calm my nerves.
The doors to the library opened.

“ What’s going on here?” said an all too familiar and heart-wrenching voice. One that had spoken sweet nothings to me in quiet moments, one that had hummed soft tunes while I fell asleep on his chest, one that had once told me he loved me.

Please, no.

Rune.



Chapter Seven:


Rune stood by the door in his work clothes, confusion and anger flashing widely in his eyes.
I stood immediately, James’s hands falling from my face. I didn’t have words. If bad timing had an origin story, it would have been this moment. My heart plummeted. Words scrambled in my throat, desperate to form something that might explain, might undo what he'd just walked in on, but nothing came. All I could do was stare. I could see the assumptions he was drawing in his mind, feel the weight of what this must’ve looked like.

Of all the moments, of all the damn seconds in a day, why now? Why this?

The silence stretched taut between us, every inch of it laced with disbelief, betrayal, and something worse—recognition. James spoke into my silence, clearly oblivious to what was being exchanged through silent stares.

“ Ah, Rune! Right on schedule. I’ll send some footmen to assist you with the delivery,” he said cordially.

Rune said nothing, only stared at James with a fiery animosity I had never seen before. I was certain his eyes were going to burn a hole right through James's forehead. James stood, seeming not to notice the flex of Rune’s jaw or the way his fists had balled, knuckles turning white.

He turned to me, concern still lingering in those blue eyes. “ I’ll have to leave you for a moment. Father ordered a custom piece from Gideon Fletcher, and it's quite large. We will need some extra hands. Are you going to be alright? You gave me quite the fright,” he said, scanning my face once more.

“I'm fine. Don’t worry about me,” I said, the dread in my gut swelling like a heavily soaked sponge.

He still looked skeptical. “ Well, your color has come back. That’s a good sign, I suppose. Hang tight, I’ll be right back,” he said, smiling and exiting the room in graceful strides.

He had no idea the color that had come back had everything to do with the tall, handsome, and now fuming man waiting impatiently at the door.

God, I was in deep shit.

The door had barely clicked shut before Rune was on me, crossing the room in a few long strides, heat pouring off him like a storm barely held at bay. His eyes burned, not just with fury, but something deeper, raw and tangled.

“ Him, really!?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but seething and dark.

I shook my head fiercely.
“ Rune. You don’t understand. This looks so bad-” The look in his eyes sharpened and silenced my plea.

“ Oh, trust me. I understand perfectly!” He spat the words at my feet. “ These were the things that you couldn’t tell me? That you didn’t have answers to yet?”

A twisted, aching plea churned in my gut, begging for him to see me, to believe me. But all it did was rise, sharp and wild, threatening to drown everything I still felt for him.

“ Rune, no! That’s not what was happening here,” I pleaded quietly, grabbing at his wrists.

He pulled away forcefully.
“ Then what?” he said, eyes so fierce, so piercing, I winced when he asked it.

God, what was I going to tell him?
What could I say that wouldn’t sound just like another excuse?

I stood frozen, tongue-tied, drowning in silent agony. My heart thundered against my ribs, wild and erratic, each beat threatening to send me crumbling to the floor. I met his smoldering green eyes, and what stared back wasn’t loving. It was disgust, sharp and unyielding. A hurt so deep, so twisted, it had contorted his face. Tears threatened to spill over and fall down my cheek.

Finally, I spoke. “ James was helping me research the symbol. We discovered something about its meaning. It’s difficult to explain…God, I know how this looks, but-”

“ You know what, save it,” he snarled, quiet and venomous. “ I knew you hated Aurelia, but this is low, even for you.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving me alone in the vast, echoing room. The tears I’d managed to hold back before now fell freely, shameless and steady. But more than anything, I was furious. Blazing, breath-stealing, angry.
Even if I had been involved with someone else, what right did he think he had to lecture me about it? What moral high ground did he think he owned? He never hesitated once to indulge in anything that happened to walk by on two legs. And besides, I wasn’t his. Not anymore. We weren’t together.

Heated, heavily armed words pounded their fists at the back of my throat, protesting.
There were so many things I should have said back to him.
No! Yelled at him.

I vowed he would hear every word. That, for once, he’d be forced to shut his oversized mouth and listen. I would drag his ignorance into the light and leave him to stew in his own stupidity.

I wiped at my tear-streaked cheeks, rough and fast. James would be back any minute—I had to pull myself together. So I buried the furious words I had for Rune in a shadowed corner of my heart, where they could take root. Sneaky, spindly roots, I let them grow. I’d deal with him later.

The doors to the library opened once more, and this time, a kind face greeted me. James stepped through, followed by several footmen carrying a large piece of polished cherry wood. The furnishing was beautifully carved with a picture of a maiden and her suitor dancing in a field of flowers. I stared, puzzled, eyes still a bit blurry from crying.

“ It’s a headboard. A wedding present from Father to the newlyweds,” James began to explain, still busy ushering the footman into the room.

A headboard. For James and Aurelia. Most likely for their marriage bed. I couldn’t help but wonder—had that contributed to Rune’s sudden outburst? There he was, delivering a bed meant for newlyweds, only to find the groom’s hands lingering on someone else’s face.
Still, it didn’t excuse the scene he caused.

“ Lean it up against that wall there. Father will want a chance to inspect it. We’ll move it upstairs after dinner hour,” He said, pointing to the far wall, the only one not covered in books.

He strolled closer to me now, his eyes glued to his feet. “It's a little too extravagant, I think,” he said bashfully, “ But Father insisted. ‘Only the finest!’ he says.”

I was grateful his attention was on his steps, for I was certain my face was still puffy and red from moments ago. I sniffled down any congestion, attempting to make my words sound crystal clear.

“ Well, I think it’s a lovely thought,” I said, whipping my nose swiftly with my handkerchief.

His endearing eyes found mine once more. “ How are you doing?”

“I'm fine now, thank you,” I replied, stifling a sniffle from my running nose.

He scanned my face, lingering on my puffy, pink cheeks.

"Have you been crying, Fleur? It wasn’t Rune, was it? What did he say to you?"
His voice had shifted—suspicious, protective.

"No, no. Everything’s fine, James. He didn’t do anything," I replied quickly.

The last thing I needed was James and Rune at each other's throats at the ball. I was in full support of a bit of fun, but a downright scandal would have all of Innswood in a frenzy for months. Father would likely lock me in the attic to starve to death, and Aurela would probably sneak up there to finish the job herself. I needed to keep the peace on the outside and do the dirty work in the shadows.

I abruptly changed the subject, attempting to draw James’s attention from thoughts of Rune.
“ Could I borrow that book? I promise to give it back. I just wish to give it more attention when I don't feel so ill.”

His expression cooled as he replied, “Of course! I'm truly overjoyed we found something of use. Borrow it for as long as you need. Let me know if you require my assistance again. I’d be glad to help.” He reached for the book and offered it to me.

There was too much eagerness in his words. I didn’t want to encourage suspicions or hidden desires. God only knew if Rune would keep his rutting mouth shut. I would have to digest what I’d learned tonight alone. I took the book from his hands, its weight heavier than before, and grabbed my skirts.

“ Yes, well, you’ve done more than enough,” I began, “I'd best be going now. Lots to prepare for, will the ball, you know.”

I quickly strode for the doors, not giving him much time to respond or coax me to stay any longer. “ Thanks again!” I called over my shoulder.



The carriage ride back to the manor was a blur of bleary dreams and cloud cover. Rain had begun to fall, pittering softly at the window at first, and then the downpour started. Streams of water fell from the darkened sky, and the wind widely awoke to join in chorus. The carriage swayed with the strong whips of humid wind, sending currents of downpour crashing into poor Edwin.

I leaned my head against the cool glass, drifting in and out of feverish sleep. My mind swirled with strange symbols and blood the color of ocean waves. Thunder throbbed through my skull, stirring the dull ache in my neck back to life. Outside, the storm raged on, its wild commotion feeding the intensity of my nightmares.

“Fluer,” a soft, distant voice called to me.

“ Fluer, it’s not safe here,” it called again.

I knew that voice. Its velvety richness, its elegant infliction. And yet, it spoke to me as if it knew me for many years, familiar. I leaned into it, letting the sound surround me with its high walls. I tucked into the softness of its tone and the safety it provided.

“ Fluer, wake up,” it called again, more urgently, seeming to shake my shoulders gently.

“ You need to wake up.”

CRACK!

A thunderous crash of lightning split the sky, jolting me awake. For a blink, the stranger’s face was before me, lips still parted. I blinked again, and he was gone. The carriage had stopped completely. I shot upright, heart pounding, breath quick and frantic.

“Fluer, please help!”

Someone was calling my name, but it wasn’t the stranger; it was Edwin. He was rather shrieking it too. A cry of pain came from the coach box. Thunder crashed again, harder, louder and the horses fussed and kicked in fear. I gathered my skirts and pushed against the carriage door, the wind smashing against the outside and my efforts. Rainwater immediately pelted hard and fast into my skin.

Oh Gods.

The entire front wheel of the carriage had broken away, and the remaining three were deeply mired in thick, unrelenting mud. But what made my stomach drop was the sight of Edwin. He was bloodied, cradling his wrist tightly against his chest, his face contorted with pain as it flickered across his features in raw, unguarded flashes.

“ Dear God! Edwin, what happened?” I shouted over the storm, running towards him.

My stomach turned as I closed the distance between us, getting a better view of the scene before me. His ankle had twisted back at an angle that had me wishing I hadn’t indulged so much on biscuits during afternoon tea. I fell to my knees in horror, hands trembling.

“ I- I fell from the driver's seat, Miss. The wheels got real stuck and flung me from my perch. Landed funny,” he croaked out as loud as he could.

Showers lashed against the earth without pause, spraying into my eyes and blurring my vision. I examined his ankle the best I could. Blinking furiously, I could barely make out where his leg ended and began with all the mud.

“ Edwin, we need to get you into the carriage. Do you think you can stand?” I prompted urgently.

He nodded, his expression heavy with anticipated pain. I positioned myself beside him and wedged my shoulder under his, bracing his body against me. He winced, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“ Ready?” I asked, grasping his arm as tightly as I could.

“ Ready,” he breathed.

I gathered all of my physical strength and hoisted him up onto his left foot. He cried out in pain at the sudden movement, but I kept steady. Groolingly slow, we inched along in the mud to the entrance to the carriage, the door thrashing widely in the wind. I leaned him against the steps on his belly and climbed up. Grabbing both of his arms, I painfully hoisted him through the entrance and out of the storm, slamming the door shut behind me.

“ Holy shit,” I breathed, dropping to my kneees once more to examine the injury.

Edwin's breathing had grown rapid and uneven, each inhale trembling as his face contorted in pain, eyes squeezed shut against the agony. I tore a cushion cover from the seat and scrubbed at the mud, trying to clear enough to see the damage beneath. His ankle was grotesquely twisted, swollen, and mottled with deep purples and angry blues—bruises blooming beneath the skin like ink in water. He needed medical attention urgently. It was almost certainly broken.

“ There’s no way you’ll be able to walk on that. How far are we from the manor?” I pressed, shaking my head in terror.

“ At least another hour, maybe thirty minutes from town,” he managed to get out, still clinging tightly to his wrist.

Spotting the blood dripping down his forearm, I gently peeled away his hand that covered the other wound to asses the damage. Nausea nipped at my stomach line when I beheld what was underneath. Sharp, white bone punctured through the skin, and protruded out of the side. The color drained from my face, and I pinched my arm to center myself.

“ You need medical help, and you’re in no condition to move,” I explained to him as I gently wrapped his wrist in the cushion cover.

“ This will stop the bleeding for a little while, but I need to run for help. I’ll go into town. It’s faster, and there’s a better chance of finding someone who can mend this.”

“ It’s too dangerous, the storm. You could get lost,” he replied, his face pale from blood loss.

Even broken and bleeding, the man still cared for my well-being.

“ I’ll manage,” I replied, “ You just focus on breathing, nice and slow.”
I mimicked the way James had calmed my nerves, taking a deep breath in sync with Edwin.
“That's it. Keep it up. I’ll be back before you know it,” I said, schooling my voice to steady.

“ Take my cloak,” he wheezed, attempting to shimmy it off his shoulders.
I assisted him, trying to avoid his mangled wrist. Once the garment was free, I threw it over my shoulders and donned the hood.

“ It’s up the road about three miles or so. Then you’ll take a left. There’s an inn, The Sleepy Mare.”

I wasted no time, hurling myself into the deluge, my feet pounding the sodden earth as I fought against the relentless wind. I gripped the folds of my dress, each stride bringing me closer to a glimmer of hope. Sheets of rain cascaded down, plastering my hair to my face and tangling at the corners of my mouth. The sky was darkening, the air thick with impending nightfall, though it was barely dinner hour. The clouds, nearly black, seemed to swallow the world beneath them in their suffocating shadow.

My mind raced with thoughts of Edwin—his kindness, his unyielding goodness. The image of his shredded wrist and twisted ankle flashed before me, a brutal reminder of his pain. I let it fuel me, the heat of it stoking the fire in my chest, urging my legs to move faster. I refused to yield to exhaustion. Edwin was depending on me. His life depended on me.
Faster I ran, my breaths coming in quick, jagged bursts. Determination surged through me like electricity. I could feel the lightning flashing around me, lighting my path. Up ahead, through the thick sheets of dark rain, two lanterns shone.

That must be the Inn.

“Hurry,” a voice seemed to whisper. It pulled at my boots like a magnet, beckoning my steps towards the light with speed that wasn’t my own.

Eager anxiety jolted through me, sending me rapidly in the direction of the two small flames. I needed to get inside and recruit anyone who might be willing. The pillowcase I’d wrapped around Edwin’s wrist would only hold for so long before it would be soaked in blood. I would need to fresh sheets and liquor from the bar to clean the wound. It wouldn’t be long before infection set in.

I arrived at the inn, my final steps faster than I’d ever run. The wooden sign above the door creaked in protest, swinging wildly in the fierce wind. It read: The Sleepy Mare, just as Edwin had said. Without a second thought, I threw the doors open wide.

The Inn was packed with tables, each seat filled. The noise of conversation, silverware clinking, and men yelling at one another was deafening. How was anyone supposed to hear me with all this commotion? I pushed through the mob of brawny men guzzling down ale and ruby-faced women laughing too loudly. With no hesitation, I half climbed, half jumped onto a tabletop in the middle of the room, trying to command the attention of those around me.

“ Please!” I yelled over the noise. “ A man is hurt badly. Our carriage broke down on the side of the road! I need help!” Many townfolk laughed, chalking my words up to a case of theatrics. They returned to their merriment, ignoring my plea.

“ Command the room,” the voice whispered again.

I listened, this time stomping my boots on the table with so much force I shattered the dinner plates, sending loaves of bread and splats of meat pies littering the floor. The room seemed to hush, only for a moment.

“ Please! A man is dying! Will no one help me?” I called again. My voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd with effortless clarity. Deep and unwavering, it held a commanding authority, each word crisp and deliberate, demanding attention.

Across the tavern by a small paned window, a large cloaked figure sat. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him, his smoldering eyes peeking through the hem of his hood. His golden gaze was pinned on me, assessing, reading.

“ Oye,” called a fat stubbled man, “ if ya aren’t gonna dance, quick yapping and get off the table!” The tavern roared in laughter, drowning my plea for help once more.

What a load of drunken ibisols!

I kicked the remaining plates to the floor with force, fury pouring off of me. It was no use. Thinking that I’d find someone remotely competent or selfless enough to help a dying man in here was a fool's errand. I jumped down from the table and made my way to the bar, carefully swiping a bottle of cheap liquor while the barmaid wasn’t looking. I moved toward the hall with haste in search of clean sheets. Just as I rounded the corner, a gruff hand landed on my shoulder.

I spun swiftly, raising the bottle over my head in defense.

“ Easy, now. You said a man is in trouble?”

It was the cloaked man from before, his gruff face now visible in the flickering hallway light. A long, jagged scar ran from his eye to his jaw, and once again I met those piercing amber eyes. He was massive—easily seven feet tall—his frame brimming with thick, calloused muscle.

“ I- yes, my driver fell from his seat in the storm. His ankle is likely broken and his wrist is in even worse shape. He’s bleeding.,” I said, lowering the glass bottle. “Not to mention our carriage, stuck in the mud. And the front wheel’s come loose.”

“ Grab the clean linens in that closet,” he said, pointing to a skinny door at the end of the hall. “ Should be a sewing kit in there, too.”

I obeyed, rushing to the door and quickly pillaged the needed supplies. The man snatched a few dwindling pieces of kindling from the bucket near the hearth and began to sift through the crowd to the exit. I followed in line, hastening my pace to keep up with his vast strides. Finally, I caught up to him, walking in synchronous step towards one goal.

“ My horse is roped in the stables. How far is the accident from here?” he said, flinging the door wide and striding out into the rain.

“ About 3 miles, thirty minutes on foot. Maybe fifteen on horseback,” I replied, following the man to the stables.

“We'd better hurry, he’s bound to have lost a lot of blood by now. Let’s move!” he commanded, bringing a large black stallion from a stable stall.

“ Hang on,” I ordered back, “ I don't even know you! And you expect me to jump on the back of a horse with you? Just like that?”

He mounted the horse with ease and extended his hand to me.
“ My name is Lucien Ashcroft. And if you want to save your friend, you’ll do as I tell you.”

I shoved down any feeling of fear for whoever this man was and took his hand. Right now, I didn’t have a choice. He was the only one who could help me save Edwin.

“ Go,” was all he said to the animal, and we took off flying, forcing me to cling to Lucien or fall off. The rain whipped against my face as we rode faster along the main road. All I could see for miles was Edwin’s pale face and the even whiter bone piercing through his skin. I shuddered at what we might find and against the cold rain soaking through to my soul.

“ There it is! Up ahead!” called Lucien, snapping the reins harder. We raced through the final stretch until a broken carriage caked in mud appeared in view. The horse slowed to a stop and Lucien dismounted, offering me his hand.

“ Grab the things! Let’s go,” he called to me and trudged quickly through the thick mud.

The carriage door was already open as Lucien ducked to enter it.
As I stepped into the carriage, the air changed—thick, rancid, clinging to my throat like oil. My boot landed in something soft. Not the crunch of straw or the creak of floorboards—something else. My eyes adjusted slowly, but the details refused to come together. A shape slouched in the far corner, still and slumped in a way that felt... off. Edwin?

A dark smear traced along the seat's edge, disappearing into shadow. I didn't speak. Couldn't. Lucien carefully turned him over, Edwin’s limbs limp on the carriage floor. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Just laid there, lifeless.

“ This was no accident,” Lucien said quietly under his breath.

The words shivered down my spine as I stepped into full view of Edwin. His chest was marred in a bloody symbol, vile and sinister. It had been carved. Vomit rose in my throat. I flung myself to the carriage door and hurled shamelessly.

“ What-what is that?” I breathed, whipping my mouth. My hands shook uncontrollably with shock.

Lucien spoke, his voice grim and still. “ It looks like someone got hold of him while you ran for help. The marking…it was engraved into his flesh with a knife.”

My stomach wrenched again, spilling my insides onto the sodden floor below.

“He ’s-he’s dead?” I whisper up to him, wishing with all my might the aching plea in my heart would somehow make his lungs rise and fall once more.

“ Yes, he was killed.”

A shrieking sob cracked from my throat. The sound was raw, guttural, like something trapped deep inside me, clawing its way out. My fingers shook as they gripped the doorframe, eyes scanning the interior, unable to comprehend what they saw. There, in the dim light, the scene sprawled before me—a twisted nightmare made real. My heart hammered painfully in my chest, the air thick with the oppressive, choking scent. I wanted to run, to escape, but my legs refused to move, rooted in place by a mixture of fear and a morbid, unshakable need to understand the horror that had unfolded before me.

“There are words here,” said Lucien, pointing to the window.

A message was written in blood.

“ Benevorn’s curse,” he read aloud.

The world tilted, sound rushing in like a wave before retreating into a muffled hush. My vision narrowed, the edges darkening as if a curtain were being slowly drawn. My knees buckled without warning, and my body swayed, graceless and heavy. A breath caught in my throat—half gasp, half silence, then I crumpled to the floor, limbs slack, eyes fluttering shut as the last thread of consciousness slipped through my grasp.

Darkness.