Celine's hand rapped on the heavy wooden door - two slow knocks followed by three quick ones. Their code of urgency, born of trust but now tainted by her betrayal, echoed dully through the hallway. Bitter tears stung her eyes as the finality of this moment seared through her; never again would she use this secret signal.
After a pause that stretched for an eternity, Amelie's soft voice beckoned from within. “Come in.”
Celine pushed open the door, guilt and shame rising like bile in her throat. As she stepped into the dim chamber, Amelie turned from the window. The waning light threw the ugly purple bruise on her cheek into stark relief, a cruel signature left by Willem's rage the previous night. Celine's heart clenched at the sight, at the fragility in Amelie's red-rimmed eyes.
But shock soon replaced the sorrow on Amelie's face as she took in Celine's disheveled appearance. “Celine!” she rushed forward, hands outstretched. “My goddess, what's happened? You look as if you've seen a demon.”
Celine flinched back from her touch, shunning any comfort. “Worse,” she choked out. The words felt jagged in her throat. “I fear I've become one.”
Amelie's brow furrowed with concern. “Please, Celine,” she whispered, grasping Celine's hands in her own. “What troubles you so?”
Celine felt her resolve crumbling under the weight of Amelie's kindness. She didn't deserve such compassion, not after what she'd done. With trembling hands, she gently extricated herself from Amelie's grasp.
“My lady, I beg you to sit,” Celine said, her voice hollow. “What I have to tell you... it's truly terrible.”
Amelie's eyes widened, a flicker of fear passing across her features. She sank onto the edge of her bed, her fingers clutching at the intricate embroidery of her nightgown. “Celine, you're frightening me. Is it... is it Amir? Has something happened to him?”
The mention of Amir's name sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over Celine. She shook her head, fighting back the urge to weep anew. “No, my lady. Amir lives.”
A small sigh of relief escaped Amelie's lips, but the tension in her shoulders remained. “Then what, Celine? What could be so dreadful?”
Celine took a deep, shuddering breath, her heart pounding so fiercely she feared it might burst from her chest. “My lady,” she began, “I... I must resign from your service.”
Amelie's face drained of color, her delicate features contorting in shock and disbelief. “Resign? Celine, no! You can't!” The tears that had threatened to spill over finally broke free, streaking down Amelie's cheeks as she clutched at Celine's hands once more, her desperation palpable. “I know my family is horrible, truly I do, but I couldn't bear to lose you. I wouldn't survive without you by my side!”
Celine shook her head, a bitter smile twisting her lips. “It’s not your family, it’s me. Once you hear the truth...once you know the depths of my betrayal...you'll be the one begging me to go.”
She turned away, unable to bear the weight of Amelie's gaze as she continued in a toneless voice. “It was me, Amelie. I'm the one who started the false rumor about you.”
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ragged sound of Amelie's breathing. Celine forced herself to continue. Each word felt like a blade twisting in her chest, as she told her mistress what had happened in the Oakdale market – how she had managed to backtrack the rumor to the seamstress’s shop and how she had eventually made Miss Appleton reveal her source.
Celine laughed, a harsh, broken sound that echoed in the stillness of the room. “She said it was me. That I was the one who had come to her with the sordid tale of your supposed infidelity, with all the ugly details. And the worst part? I have no memory of it. None at all.”
Celine's throat constricted, choking back a sob. “But I know it's true. I can feel it, deep in my bones. Somehow, some way, I betrayed you, Amelie. I set in motion the very rumor that has brought such pain and suffering to your life. And for that, I can never forgive myself.”
Celine turned back to face Amelie, only to meet an empty stare that horrified her more than even the most hateful visible emotion would have. She sank to her knees, her head bowed in shame as she awaited Amelie's judgment. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the only sound the pounding of her own traitorous heart.
And then, from above, a single word, whispered like a prayer: “No.”
Celine raised her head, tears blurring her vision as she gazed up at Amelie in confusion. Without warning, Amelie’s hand lashed out, striking Celine's cheek with a resounding crack.
The sting of the slap burned across Celine's skin, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the ache in her heart. “I deserved that,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast.
Amelie's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and anguish. “Yes, you did – for thinking so poorly of yourself.” She cupped Celine's face, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Listen to me, Celine. You are the best of all people. The most loyal, the most kind, the most wise. There is no way – no way – I could ever believe you would intentionally hurt me.”
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Tears welled in Celine's eyes, threatening to spill over. “My lady, you're too trusting. Even if I didn't mean to harm you, the fact remains that I did.” She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off an unseen chill. “I... I fear I might be losing my mind. How else can I explain these gaps in my memory, these actions I don't recall?”
Celine's voice dropped to a whisper, laden with dread. “The only conclusion I can draw is that I can no longer be trusted. Not with your safety, not with your secrets... not with anything.”
Amelie's eyes flashed with a sudden, fierce intensity. “No, Celine. You're not crazy, and you're certainly not evil.” She gripped Celine's shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. “I know exactly what's to blame for your bizarre actions. It's them. The Silent Ones.”
Celine's brow furrowed, confusion etching lines across her face. “The Silent Ones? But... they're just fairytales, aren't they? Stories to frighten children?”
A hollow laugh escaped Amelie's lips, devoid of mirth. “Oh, how I wish that were true.” She turned away, her gaze drawn to the window where shadows seemed to dance in the moonlight. “They're real, Celine. As real as you and I.”
Celine's heart raced, a chill creeping up her spine. Had Amelie's mind finally snapped under the weight of her torments?
“I've seen them with my own eyes,” Amelie continued. “They've been watching me, spying on me, tormenting me for years.” She whirled back to face Celine, her eyes wide and wild. “All those tales about their ability to read minds, to control thoughts – they're all true. And I'm certain, Celine, that you've fallen victim to their manipulations.”
Celine's world tilted on its axis, her certainties crumbling like sand. The possibility that some unseen force had been puppeteering her actions was both terrifying and oddly comforting. But could she truly believe it?
“My lady,” she began, her voice trembling, “If what you say is true... why would they hound us like that? And what could we possibly do against such a force?”
Before Amelie could respond, a sharp, forceful knock shattered the tense atmosphere. Amelie’s body went rigid, her face draining of color as she cast a worried glance towards the door.
“Amelie!” Willem's voice, rough with irritation, penetrated the thick wood. “Open this door at once!”
Celine moved to intercept, but Amelie raised a trembling hand, stopping her. “No,” she said in a low voice, her eyes never leaving the door. “I won't let him in. Never again.”
Another series of knocks, more insistent this time. “Amelie, I insist we speak!”
Amelie's fingers curled into fists, her knuckles white with tension. “Are you going to hit me again, Willem?” she called out, her voice laden with bitterness and fear. “Is that why you're so eager to come in?”
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the sound of Amelie's ragged breathing. Celine stood frozen, caught between her desire to protect her mistress and her fear of Willem's unpredictable temper.
After what felt like an eternity, Willem's voice came again, softer this time, almost regretful. “I... I came to apologize, Amelie. You were right about Lady Varga. I see that now.”
Amelie's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of hope dancing across her features before being quickly extinguished by suspicion. She stood up and took few hesitant steps towards the door.
“My lady, please,” Celine whispered urgently, reaching out to stop her. “It could be a trick.”
Amelie paused, conflict evident in her eyes. Then, with a determined set to her jaw, she reached for the small peephole cover and slid it open.
Through the narrow aperture, they could see Willem's face, his sharp features contorted with an unfamiliar expression of remorse. His perpetual scowl had softened, replaced by a look of genuine concern.
“Amelie,” Willem said, his voice low and urgent, “we need to discuss our situation. Our future hangs in the balance.”
Amelie's fingers tightened on the edge of the peephole cover, her knuckles whitening. “And what future might that be, Willem?” she asked. “The one where you continue to use me as your punching bag?”
Willem flinched visibly, his eyes closing briefly in what appeared to be shame. “No, sister. I... I want to make amends. To find a way forward for both of us.”
Amelie and Celine exchanged glances. Celine knew that her mistress was torn between her deep-rooted fear of Willem and a faint hope of reconciliation, but she wasn’t sure if Willem’s sudden change of heart could be trusted.
After a long moment, Amelie spoke. “Very well, Willem. We'll meet in the garden tomorrow afternoon.” She paused, then added firmly, “But Celine will be there too. She's my confidant, and I trust her implicitly.”
Behind her, Celine inhaled sharply, a wave of emotion washing over her. How could Amelie still trust her after everything? The weight of her guilt threatened to crush her.
Willem's expression darkened momentarily at the mention of Celine, but he nodded reluctantly. “If that's what it takes, then so be it. I... I could use the support as well.”
Amelie's grip on the peephole cover loosened slightly. “Then it's settled. Tomorrow afternoon in the garden. Now, please, leave us be.”
As Willem's footsteps receded down the hallway, Amelie closed the peephole and turned to face Celine. Her eyes flashed with a sudden fierce determination, her delicate features hardening into a mask of resolve. “That,” she declared, her voice low and urgent, “was merely a ruse to placate Willem. We have far more pressing matters at hand.”
Celine's brow furrowed, confusion and curiosity warring within her. “My lady, I don't understand. What could be more important than…”
“Hush,” Amelie interjected, moving swiftly across the room. Her nightgown swished against the floorboards as she began rummaging through a heavy oak chest. “We must make haste, Celine. I need you to prepare for a journey. We leave tonight, under cover of darkness.”
Celine's heart thundered in her chest, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through her veins. “Tonight? But… where are we going?”
Amelie turned, her eyes gleaming with an almost feverish light. “To someone who knows the truth about the Silent Ones,” she replied, her voice trembling with a strange mixture of terror and excitement.
Celine's mind reeled, images of shadowy figures and whispered legends flooding her consciousness. She wanted to protest, to insist that this was madness. But as she looked at Amelie – fragile, determined Amelie with her bruised face and haunted eyes – she knew she had no choice.
“I'll make the preparations,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “We'll need two horses, warm clothing, lanterns, provisions, and...” Her voice trailed off, her eyes meeting Amelie's in a moment of shared understanding.
Amelie nodded, her gaze hardening with resolve. “Weapons. We'll need weapons too.”