Astrid

Spring brings a fresher air to the castle. All of us relish in the warmth and take as many strolls and rides out on the grounds as we can.

Something about the change in the season brings out a shift in my grief. On the one hand, the nightmare of last season has come to pass with the melting snow. On the other hand, I now brave another lapse in time with a sudden change in my life: the absence of my father.

Alfeir takes me on a leisurely trot along the paths as soon as dawn breaks. The breeze that caresses my face carries the scent of flowers, like the first time I arrived here.

Oh, how things have changed.

The sound of hooves going clip-clop interrupts the peace in my still-waking thoughts. Bayorn’s horse whinnies before he himself comes into view, head tilted up to greet the morning light.

He does not need to tell me where he is going. Every morning and every late evening, he ventures into the forest to secure the perimeter of the castle. Alfeir follows him past the invisible borders that stand as a barrier between what is enchanted and what is normal, into the guild of trees.

We ride on in silence for a while. Bayorn has been doing this since the first flowers came to bloom: he stares at the trees, the flowers, the brightening blue skies. It is as if they all owe him something.

“One year is nearly up,” I speak into the silence. Overhead, birds call out to each other in a song only they seem to know.

“Yes.”

“Do you know where you will go? If we manage to survive past the worst of Lady Selaena’s bargain, that is.”

He keeps his eyes trailed on the horizon, but he does not need to think much about his answer. “Anywhere but here.”

I suppose a hundred years really is enough to make one entirely loathsome towards a place. Still, the thought of him willingly leaving any of its inhabitants behind take me by surprise.

“Alone?” I say. “Or will you go with Imogen and Eli?”

“That is not a choice I should make on my own.”

“And what of Kieran?”

Bayorn turns his head to the side and peers out at the trees. I could have sworn his expression has hardened.

But when he speaks, his voice holds its usual strong, gentle humility. “I would pledge the rest of my mortal days to that man, my lady. Make no mistake of it. But his wish is to be free, and I cannot impose upon his will any more than I can on yours.”

I blink. Kieran had mentioned us parting ways before, but he never told me directly what his plans are. Perhaps he has no plans at all. He just wants to get away from this place.

The memory of his lips against my forehead, soft and unrushed, is still fresh in my mind after all these weeks. At that time, it felt like an acknowledgement of our proximity. The promise of a continued friendship.

Maybe he was only trying to tell me to let go.

Lady Tremaine and Sir Rotwell have already cleaned up the entirety of my father’s broken home by the time I arrive in my bedroom.

Sir Rotwell starts when he catches me descending the stairs. They are both sitting in front of cups of tea in my kitchen, the way they used to whenever they came to visit my father.

Lady Tremaine sips her tea, unfazed. “Late to the banquet as usual, Miss Astrid.”

“Only because this banquet consists of dull hard labor.”

I curtsy to their acknowledging nods and pull up a chair for myself. Sir Rotwell looks from me to his wife, probably wondering if I have been upstairs this whole time. To his credit, he says nothing about it and instead appraises me kindly.

“How are you faring, child?” he asks.

“As well as either of you, probably,” I shrug. “Thank you for attending to the house.”

“Listen.” He leans forward on his elbows. “Your father once mentioned to my wife that he does not wish for you to stay here. However, the deed to this place still belongs to you. You may do with it as you wish.”

Lady Tremaine slips her gloved hand over mine. “Or you may stay with us for as long as you want, dear. What is ours is yours.”

I understand the underlying meaning behind her words completely. For as long as you want.

Only an unmarried maiden remains under the roof of her parents – or, in my case, her guardians. She, Lady Tremaine, the woman who has hassled me to trim myself into proper lady-likeness, to dance and mingle in social events, who always keeps an eye peeled for eligible bachelors for me – she is telling me to stay with her.

For as long as you want.

I take the back of her hand which rests upon mine and bring it up to my lips. Tears of gratitude sting at my eyes.

She makes no effort to conceal her own tears.

“You have both been so kind to us,” I tell them. “Whoever I will become, I will never forget that I am the person I am today because of you.”

Sir Rotwell breaks into a slow, sorrowful smile. He nods in complete acceptance, the way he has always been accepting of the person I am.

“Where will you go?” This seems to be a popular question these days.

“I do not know,” I say, mirroring his smile. “Anywhere. I will make a living for myself and come back someday to tell you all about my new adventures. The house shall be yours, Sir Rotwell – do with it as you wish. Keep Father’s inventions alive.”

We chat some more, but our conversation is almost empty, as if everything that needs to be said has already been said. Every recollection of my childhood memories now seems like a tale from another life.

I bid the house goodbye like a lingering ghost floating from room to room. I sit in my father’s chair, lie down in my old bed, inhale the scent of my home. And then I leave.

There are ten more minutes left on my watch, but still I take the time to stand atop the hill next to the river. For some reason I am not as sad as I probably should be. That house stopped being my home the moment I saw the signs of struggle that morning. The moment I saw my father’s torn torso and wide-open, petrified eyes.

He looked like a wickedly-designed puppet.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Someone comes to stand beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, he inserts his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Miss Astrid.”

“Captain Federer.”

“Now, how is it that I knew I could find you here?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Probably the same way I knew you would find me here.”

When I look up at him, his eyebrows go up. He smiles that easy, brazen smile which once pulled me in like gravity. “So you are willing to speak to me now, then.”

“That depends. Do you promise to remain civil?”

He gives me an exasperated look, as if his barbaric manner of grabbing me during our past encounters are meant to be normal. But perhaps they always have been – Damian is a physical creature. I do not know why I never minded that trait of his until now.

“How goes your search?” I say, breaking into a slow walk. He offers me his arm and I take it.

“If you are asking whether or not I have led my army to your employer’s castle, then no. I have not. My turn,” he glances over at me. “What do you know of the beast?”

My army. No doubt, he has turned the townsfolk into a faint shadow of the militia.

“I only know it will pose no more harm, for we have captured it,” I repeat the words Bayorn phrased for me. “It is under control.”

He snorts as if I am joking. “Will you kill it, then? You and your little companions?”

I try to ignore the bite in his words and say with as much confidence as I can muster: “It will no longer be around to harm anyone else by the time the month is up.” By the time one year is up.

“Ah. So we are supposed to trust you, then, to take care of a problem that has been around for years – the problem that took your own father’s life?”

“You made me skip my turn to ask a question. Have you ever come close to harming the beast?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he smirks.

But then he catches my icy glare and folds. For once.

“No, Astrid,” his sigh is heavy with displeasure. “We missed every time we tried to chase down the silhouette in the night. It moves quickly, you see.”

“And yet you managed to chase it all the way to the forest.”

“We found abnormal footprints. Which disappeared right around the time I saw you in the midst of winter’s death, by the way. Searched all night, we did. Now, how did you capture the beast?”

All night? I frown. “But Lady Tremaine says my father was found in the morning. That all the victims were found in the morning.”

He narrows his eyes at me, as if I have said something wrong or daft. “Yes. But we launched our search party when we heard a foreign howl. Must have been after the creature pillaged through our town, if you will.”

My thoughts drift toward the memory of the beast breaking through my own door. Of the sheer might of its muscles causing it to splinter. My father’s door gave way much easier.

Perhaps...perhaps it is because the enchanted castle fought for me. Nobody fought for my father.

“My turn,” Damian says breezily. “Do you stay with that man because he is rich?”

I wrinkle my nose.

“Do you really think me so shallow?”

“Fine. It must be something else, then. Is it magic?”

I start. He catches the surprise on my face. His grin broadens into triumph.

“It is magic, is it not? The stuff of old wives’ tales. You know, I nearly went mad trying to figure out where you went after going through that door. Tell me: did he promise you the use of magic? I reckon it is worth more than my promises to take you wherever you wish to go.”

I think of all the things I have done through the mirror. All the things I have seen. All the worlds and possibilities I could never have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes.

Shaking my head, I slip my hand off his arm.

“Even without magic, Damian, I would have been happier in that castle than I ever have been here.”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because he is wealthy beyond compare.”

A spike of irritation flares. I turn on him.

“If you must know,” I snap. “That man believes in me. He and all the rest of my ‘little companions’. I would much rather be starved of freedom with him than be suffocated with you.”

This clearly stings him. He halts abruptly, a shadow crossing his face. For a split second, I brace myself for him to react adversely.

But his voice is barely steady when he speaks.

“And here I thought your father was speaking gibberish in his drugged state,” he says, his smile void. “You really are brain-washed, Astrid. It is so easy for you to forget what you once had for the sake of greater fascinations. You have always been so careless.”

“And you have always been so entitled! When will you understand that my decision is final?”

“When you start making sense!” his voice rises to the volume of mine.

Damian steps closer, rooting us both in place.

I do not shrink. I want to keep screaming, to shove him off the way Isabelle did. I want to push back without having to worry of the repercussions – without having to wonder if he will bring more innocent people to storm the castle by nightfall.

My whole body suddenly pauses. I do not know why at first. It is as if my brain has finally registered his words before my ears can even believe they heard anything.

“Damian, when did you see my father?”

His forehead crumples in complete mystification. “What?”

“You said my father was speaking nonsense in his drugged state. Gibberish. How did you know he took a sleeping medicine that night?”

Damian freezes like a portrait stuck in a moving world.

“I… Your father always took his medicine as any ill person does, did he not?”

“My father never frequently took a sleeping medicine. He only did that particular night.”

The ground beneath my feet begins to shift in a way that makes me want to sink into the grass.

“Alright, I will admit it,” he says. “I did go to see your father the night he passed. I just wanted to see how he fared, as I always used to do.”

He steps forward again. This time, I withdraw.

“Lady Tremaine mentioned that she was the only person to visit my father that day.”

“Astrid, come now. Surely you know how ridiculous you sound in your accusation. I went to see him after she left, of course.”

He studies my face very closely, still wearing that bewildered look. When he breaks into incredulous laughter, I almost want to scold myself for being so paranoid.

But then he notices I am not laughing. His laughter dies down upon his lips. Their corners start to turn downwards. All humor is lost from his features.

That same shadow crosses his suddenly solemn expression. It sends a chill down my spine.

“I asked him for your hand in marriage,” his voice goes cold. Calm. “Do you know what he said? He said exactly what you told me. That you would be much happier there than you would ever be with me.”

I am already shaking my head and stumbling backwards. My arms tighten over my stomach to keep me from doubling over and throwing up.

“Damian. What did you do?”

He inhales sharply. As if he is agitated that I have missed the point behind his words completely.

“What I did, Astrid, was that I taught him a lesson.”

My hand covers my mouth. Bile rises in my throat.

“What I did was I made sure he would never get in the way of you and me. You know,” he laughs a short, bitter laugh into the wind. “I even took care to make it look like an attack. The fates must have permitted our union when we all heard the creature crying in the night.”

One of the legs on the chair was broken off and stained with blood. The memory of my father’s tattered torso stings my eyes.

My breath comes in a ragged whisper.

“You killed all of those people too.”

He stretches his arms out. “A small price to pay for our happiness, is it not?”

I am going to be sick.

The dangerous shadow under his eyes darkens. He is not the boy I used to know.

“Astrid -” he advances upon me.

The knife secured in my sleeve finds my left hand in a flash. Before his touch fastens upon my wrist, I drive the blade across his face.

The rough shout that escapes him startles me into fleeing – but I do not take two steps before his grip finds my skirt. I am unceremoniously jerked off my balance. But I am ready. My body swivels and I drive my weapon as far into his flesh as I can. His pained howls send a morbid wave of satisfaction over me.

My heart slams against my ribcage as I tear down the hill. There is no door in sight, no mirror. Will he recover in time for me to race all the way back to the town?

A faint glimpse of my own face stares back at me from the surface of the water. I glance over my shoulder and catch my father’s murderer hobbling down the grass, screaming incoherent profanities.

Here goes nothing.

“Take me back to the castle!” I cry.

Something grabs at my skirt before gravity takes over and plunges me into the water.