I didn’t sleep the rest of that night. When the knock came for breakfast, I was already wide awake. I kissed Doux and set him down on his pillow bed, washed up, and got dressed.

I knew what I had to do. I had to know the truth.

The walk to the dining room felt longer than before. It reminded me of my following the Maer last night. Even though I knew I was wide awake, I felt as if I was still dreaming. This could just as easily still be the dream and I didn’t know it. That thought unsettled me to no end.

Faustine, as usual, was waiting for me. I gave her a little nod, which she reciprocated. We sat down together and had breakfast. Neither of us spoke or attempted to make any eye contact. She knew that I knew.

Faustine pushed aside her plate as if in surrender.

“Well?” She said, throwing up her hands. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you.” I set down my fork. “I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it.”

“There’s never a good time to talk.” She crossed her arms.

“Would you feel more comfortable if we did it somewhere else, then?”

Faustine nodded, and we departed for the library. A fire was already lit when we arrived. We sat down in the opposite chairs and faced each other. Faustine’s hands were clasped tightly together. Her entire posture appeared constricted and tightly wound, like a spring under immense tension. She was scared. I could feel it.

“You were not supposed to see that last night.” She murmured.

“That was your father,” I said. “I thought he was gone.”

Faustine winced at the word. She wrung her hands. “He is. You saw my Maer.”

The image of the man’s hands around her neck flashed painfully in my mind. “He was hurting you.”

“He did. And he hurt me in so many other ways. To him, I was the family disappointment.” Faustine drew in a sharp breath. “And he was right.”

“Don’t say that.” I pleaded, taking her hands. They were shaking and clammy.

“He’ll never let me forget it.” She struggled to meet my gaze. Her eyes were hollow and misty. “He reminds me every time I sleep, Marius. And he’s right about all of it. He’s right that I’m worthless and a waste and—"

“He’s wrong about you.” I held her hands tighter. “You are more than what he said about you.”

Faustine shook her head. “This place is cursed because of me. Everyone is gone because of me. This is all my fault. And now I’ve dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything.” I gently touched her feathered cheek.

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“No.” Faustine swallowed hard. She withdrew herself from my touch. “You must know the truth. When your mother came in from the cold, I realized how long it had been since I’d seen anyone from the outside. It finally set in just how empty these halls truly were. I was so alone.”

“Then Mother took the brush. I know this already.”

“No. You need to know the truth.”

I remained silent. I felt dread building in my chest.

“It was just a brush.” She muttered under her breath. “Just a simple replaceable brush. But I used it against her. I tricked her under the pain of leaving her own family behind for what, for companionship?”

My mouth went dry. “You said it was an ancient law of hospitality—” In my mind, the pieces were falling into place.

“It was all a lie.” The confession escaped her like a dying breath. “There was no law she violated. I just wanted someone to stay with me.”

My heart shattered into a million painful shards. My mind raced too fast for me to comprehend everything I had learned.

“Everyone leaves me,” Faustine mumbled to herself. “I can’t help but hurt everyone I love. How could anyone love me if that’s all I know how to do?”

My hands suddenly felt very cold. “All of this time, and I could’ve gone home?”

She nodded. “I was only going to keep your mother for a week at most. I was going to explain everything. But then you came along. You showed me kindness. You helped me play again.” She stared at her hands. “But I ruined that too, didn’t I?”

I stood from my seat and backed away. “Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“I thought things could stay this way. We could live together and be happy. I could have you for myself. I was so selfish.” She stared hollow-eyed at me. “Now I see the mistake I made.”

“I would like to return home, then.” I managed, trying to keep a measure of composure.

“Then collect your things. The horse will be ready for you.” Faustine waved a hand. She turned and stared into the fire.

I turned on my heel and strode out of the room without another word.

Doux sat on his hind legs and sniffed the air when I found him. I picked him up and looked into his beady eyes. He cocked his head curiously as if to ask “What’s the occasion?” I kissed him on the head and placed him inside my coat pocket. I didn’t have much else to bring besides that. There were my old boots and coat, but we’d wisely disposed of those. They were so worn and filled with holes they weren’t good for much else.

I decided to take my sketch pad and pencil along with the clothes on my back. I didn’t need much else at this point.

The halls were quiet as I walked to the foyer. No servants were present. There was only the wind outside and my footsteps on the marble floors.

Faustine was waiting for me in the foyer. We didn’t speak, merely exchanged glances. I approached the large doors.

“How much of it was real?” I asked without turning to face her.

“It doesn’t matter.” She replied. “Just go.”

I pushed the doors open. Snowflakes fluttered into the room. The cold air bit my cheeks.

“Then this is goodbye,” I said. I walked out into the snow. My boots crunched against the ground as I made my way to the horse under the lamp. The woods beyond the manor were dark and brooding, the branches twisting into the air like gnarled fingers.

Beyond there is home, I thought. My family.

The horse kneeled to the ground with a grinding of stone and a whistling snort. I climbed aboard. Doux squirmed inside my pocket. I patted him reassuringly.

As much as I didn’t want to, I turned my gaze back towards the manor.

Faustine stood outside the doors in the snow. Her dark feathers and gown were covered in small white snowflakes. I could see her bright eyes even through the gloom.

I wondered if I should’ve said something to her. But I didn’t know what that could’ve possibly been. I wasn’t thinking of anything else. How could I, after everything she’d told me?

As the horse stood and began to move, I watched as Faustine silently fell to her knees into the snow. I could hear her sobs on the wind as the manor disappeared in the endless night.