“I’d thought Alfredo was a cross between a werewolf and a bear,” Rowan mumbled as she worked on the rusty lock of iron with one of her claws. Judging from the coat of dust that made it sticky and oily between her palms, no doubt none had dared to near the towers after she left.
It would appear that sneaking around the castle in pure Nyphillie form in the death of the night back in her younger days had taken its effects. The tale of the cursed that roamed the halls still circled the castle’s premise. As soon as the sky had dimmed too far for the Fulgels’ limited sight, all of them had locked themselves in their quarters.
Except for the few guards who were forced to stand along the hallway, that is. The guards in silver seemed much more fidgety and unsure of themselves compared to the dark reapers she had seen during the day. It was no surprise that no guards were stationed near the towers rumoured to be haunted by the ‘fiercest of spirits’.
An amused grin began to spread across the Duke’s stern face. “I have to admit, the workmanship of my younger self had left much to be desired.”
“How young were your…younger self exactly?”
“Six,” Cornelius replied matter-of-factly as if it was a feat anyone could pull. “Do you need help with that?”
“Six…” Rowan repeated, the number tasted strange upon her tongue. She was not sure what she was doing at the age of six, probably pilling dirt onto dirt to make…well, a pile of dirt. She would be proud enough if she could mould it into a ball round enough to be called a ball.
“Have you grown fond of Fulgels’ food by then?” she asked, slapping Cornelius’s hand away when he reached for the lock in her hands. Under normal circumstances, an old lock like this would take mere seconds for her to unlock. But with Cornelius just an inch away, deliberately breathing down her neck, her hands took a clumsy turn of the century.
Though he had followed her without a question when she asked him to join her for her night venture, she was beginning to wonder if it was the right choice after all. Whoever choose to roam the halls at night may not be able to recognize her in her current Fulgel’s form but Cornelius’s dark mane was too striking to miss.
Still, despite all the alarms that went off in her head, a small voice buried deep within the lot did not cease its whispers. She wanted to show the man who resembled her brother so much the prized hideout they shared when he was still alive.
“I was never fond of Fulgels’ food,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Then why the spread? Since you knew I am a Nyphillie to begin with, there was no need for Walter to go through all the troubles…” And for me to torture myself like that.
“To be frank, I just thought it would make you shed the Fulgel charade faster,” Cornelius grinned, the look of a mischievous toddler splayed across his face. “If by any chance that they did taste as bland to you as they did me.”
“What did you—!”
She snapped around at the closeness of his breath on her skin—and found Cornelius’s lips only inches from hers. Surprised, she slipped her claw deeper into the lock and unlocked it with a click. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud that mirrored her hammering heart.
“Impressive,” Cornelius flashed her a genuine arch of brow that she could not help but smile triumphantly in return, food feuds forgotten. At least her hands were good with things that aided her survival.
“Not just a pity excuse of a duchess now am I?”
She turned when Cornelius did not return her remark with a witty one of his own. Instead of his infamous frown, what she found was instead the Duke of Noxsidus grinning like a child who had just been presented his favourite candy.
“Have I said something amusing?” she asked, a hand on hip while she regarded his strange expression.
He smiled in return, bemused as he laid a palm on the door of old timber behind her. The gesture was subtle, his touch feathery but the thud of his palm against wood rang in her ears. The scent that was uniquely his engulfed her, propelling her back to the other day when he had nailed her to the couch.
She widened her eyes, unblinking as she held her breath. She had been afraid of him then, the way a tornado of flames swirled within the depth of his eyes. But now, she was more afraid of herself, of the strange fluttering that threatened to burst out of her chest with renewed wings. If she was to move in the slightest, the tip of their noses would brush against one another’s and all would came undone.
A terrible shudder echoed through her limbs the moment his fingers brushed against her cheeks. Her unnerved demeanour only fuelled Cornelius’s amusement. “Duchess? So, you’ve finally admitted you’re mine?”
“I did not—” The restraint she had worked to perfect for the past two centuries broke free and filled her cheeks with bright scarlet. Her knees weakened, causing her to stagger and her back ran straight into the wooden door.
It creaked open without warning, nearly caused her to double over but she stood her ground. Cornelius could not help but chuckle as she sashayed into the empty room, her chin lifted a little too high for emphasis.
With slow, light steps, Rowan treaded across the ancient planks that creaked under her weight. Crates of brittle wood that had crumbled with age and chests of red wood crowded one corner of the deserted room.
Rowan traced a finger across the surface of the smallest of them, lifting a thick layer of cobwebs with her. Dusting it from her hands, she lifted the crate open.
Lucero’s collection crowded its interior, untouched since the day of the tragedy. From among the myriad of leather bounded fables and trinkets of silver, she found a music box in the form of a rose. Delicately, she lifted it from its nest and blew away the layer of white that clung to its red body.
Two turns of its golden stalk and its petals of porcelain red slowly parted to reveal the dancing princess inside. Her hands were lifted above her head, as if finally awakened after a long slumber.
A familiar melody swirled the space around them as Rowan gingerly winded it two turns more. It was a miracle they had survived the fire at all. As if Lucero himself had stopped the flames from destroying the last of his memories with her.
“You’re the first man to ever step in here after Lucero,” Rowan said, her voice barely a whisper as she watched the figure in bejewelled red twirl upon her palm.
Once upon a time, Lucero had returned with the music box, his eyes twinkling with joy. He had told her how it reminded him of her, of his little princess with rubies for eyes. Now that she looked at it, her brother had been ironically right.
What would he say if he was to see her now? He would never had imagined the brand of rose that marked her now. Nor would he had thought how she literally became the princess trapped within. A marionette chained to mechanics, controlled by invisible hands, awakened only when winded.
“Lucero? Should I be jealous that my lovely wife speaks of another on our first night together?”
Rowan chuckled when Cornelius raised an inquiring brow at her. “You cannot compare to one another. Lucero was my brother.”
Only a silver of moonlight flitted through the blurred glass of the domed ceiling, lighting the footprints she had left, dark against the layer of dust that blanketed the ancient planks. She strained her eyes, trying in vain to pierce through the misty glass.
With a sigh, she settled the music box upon the crate. Her shoulders sagged as she swivelled around to face Cornelius. The twirl of her hooped skirt lifted the veil of dust into the air. She groaned and coughed, finding it impossible to breathe, much less speak.
But being the Magus that he is, the Duke managed to laugh after clearing his throat. “So, I assume you wanted to show me…these?” He gestured to the cape of white swirling around them. The grin playing at the corners of his lips was enough indication he was having fun looking at her tortured expression.
Rowan managed to shoot him a death glare behind watering eyes.
“Forgive me, love,” Cornelius surrendered but not before flashing her a dazzling smile. He waved a hand over the shadows crowded in one corner of the room. Darkness peeled from the chests that lined the walls, lifted into the air in a thin, translucent film. It swam across the room, flapping its fins as it circled them.
The still air picked up, throwing Rowan’s hair into a whipping mess. She shielded her eyes with the back of her hands just as Cornelius enveloped her in his arms.
“What is going on…?!” she yelled into the hissing wind.
“It’ll be over in a second,” Cornelius replied casually, as if standing in the heart of an unnatural storm was a second nature to him.
Rowan wanted to protest, to thrash against his hold, but the violent dance of the spectre tipped her balance. Forcing her to hold onto Cornelius’s arms or risk being lifted together with the dust particles. It ghosted in her ears, lapped at her skin, ripping her of voice as it continued to rage the space around them.
She did not know how much time had passed until Cornelius’s deep voice finally reached her, echoing in the room that quieted all of a sudden. A gasp escaped Rowan’s throat the moment Cornelius spun her around.
“You may open your eyes now.”
Orbs of translucent black hovered around them. Each differed in size, holding flakes of white that continued to churn within their cores. Without thinking, she reached out and poked one. The film of shadow curved inwards, causing the flakes inside to circle and rain down again as one would in snow globes.
Rowan’s eyes twinkled, mesmerized by the scene before her. She tiptoed from orb to orb, giggling for the first time in centuries as she danced among them.
Clear moonlight shone through the transparent glass, lighting her profile with a silver tint. Stars adorned the night sky, sprinkles of sugar spilled across dark satin gathered around the ribbon of a smile that mirrored hers. She spread her arms wide and twirled around to face Cornelius. “Are these all a part of your magick?”
Cornelius sank into a fluid bow, giving her one of his gentlest smile when he met her gaze again. “One of the few perks of wielding the magick of death.”
“How?”
His smile brightened, enough to rival the moonlight. “I do believe having a form or two of mysteries would make one more appealing to his spouse.”
Rowan rolled her eyes and quirked an eyebrow. “As if it would make any difference if you told me your secrets. It’s not like I could control the shadows.”
“On the contrary,” Cornelius lowered his voice to a conspirator whisper, taking the opportunity to lean in closer. “Controlling the shadows happened to be a Nyphillie’s forte.”
Rowan blinked.
“Controlling darkness and its entirety to be exact,” Cornelius explained, pulling back from her just an inch. “I’d heard it from Walter as a child but never understood it fully until I came upon the archive again after your arrival. Among the scrolls we have, there was one that recorded how ancient Nyphilles survived without receiving an ounce of life magick from others.”
To make his point, Cornelius flagged a dark orb and balanced it above his open palm. It flattened against his hand, swivelled and disappeared under his skin. Leaving no trace of the flakes of dust within. “They’ve learned to harness their magick from within darkness.”
“But that is impossible…! There’s no life magick within shadows. How could they…?”
Cornelius shook his head. “Among the Medeis, Nyphilles are the closest to the Fallens. If anyone could ever reign over the realm of darkness, it would be those who were originally born within its pit.”
He raised a hand and called the orbs to him. Shadows large and small bobbed up and down neatly in front of him. “Concentrate on one of them and call it to you.”
Rowan casted a wary glance to the line of obedient black and back to Cornelius’s unchanging expression, unable to grasp the situation she had found herself in. “But I can’t—”
“You do not know that for sure before you try. Even those who had tried and failed should not be allowed to deny the possibility of something without trying again. At least, entertain me, will you? My warrior princess.”
The tenderness of Cornelius’s voice killed any protests she had waiting on her tongue. It was at times like these that she was not sure if she admired or hated the Duke for his arrogance. Who was he to command her like that?
Your husband.
Rowan shook her head hard. Only in name, she chastised the voice.
“Here,” he took her hand in his, removed her glove and guided it forward. “Focus your intent, will it to obey you.” Rowan tensed under his touch. She could not comprehend how he could so naturally reach out for her.
How could he be unaffected despite the steady flow of life magick that was beginning to slip from his fingers to hers?
“Cornelius you—”
Cornelius shushed her before she could finish her thought. “Just try.”
Rowan glanced up at the Duke’s face. Though his complexion had improved over the week, an ill colour still clung to his cheeks. Aren’t you still healing? You’ll get yourself killed at this rate! More than a dozen of thoughts flashed through her mind but none found their way to her lips.
Forcing her attention from the strange paleness of his face, she relented and narrowed her eyes at the smallest among the orbs.
The faster she proved she was not capable of it, the faster he would loosen his grip. With a deep inhale, she allowed instincts to take over. Her eyelids fell as she projected her mind outwards. Only darkness and the stillness of the air enveloped her senses at first.
“Focus your intent.”
Then it came.
All at once, flash of light burst from all corners of her mind. From the screech of bats in a cave yards away to the snore of the boy in one of the town’s homes and the yawn of the guards stationed right outside her room—anything that was touched by darkness surfaced in her mind. She could see and feel things as if they were right before her.
“Reach out to them.”
She followed the ribbons of white that shone the brightest and extended her hand to them. A strange feeling of nostalgia crept up the length of her arms as her fingers brushed against the first strip. Each stray ribbon gathered and melded into one another before bursting into a shower of light that rained over her.
She could feel their joy as clearly as she could her own. As if two entities separated at birth finally reunited. Pure life magick tingled in her fingers, slowly travelled up her arms and jolted her mind awake. A small sound popped in her ears and she felt herself being lifted into the air. She could not bear to keep her body still.
Never had she felt more alive than she did now.
Comments (3)
See all