I held the fabric of my dress as I walked, taking slow, cautious steps. Despite Rose removing the petticoats, there was still so much fabric.
So many annoying layers.
I heard a few servants whisper about my sickness as we passed. Only bits and pieces.
Rumors about my illness mysteriously curing itself. How I was now in peak condition, but not even half as graceful as when I was sickly. How my condition could have effected my legs instead of my lungs.
Those bitches.
I shifted my jaw in frustration. I wasn't walking slowly because I was sick. I was walking slowly because I didn't want to trip and face-plant in front of everyone.
Not everyone can be as effortless as Elizabeth. Plus, I believe she was given more grace in regards to clothing.
I scrunched the dress up more, straightening my back with only a three-worded mantra repeating in my head: prime and proper.
Rose stayed close to my side, a more relaxed smile on her face, nodding and bowing at servants as we passed. I watched her with interest. She actually seemed a bit civilized—at least around others. I tried to mimic her, offering slight nods and small acknowledging smiles as we passed them.
As we walked, something was becoming painfully clear—
This castle was huge. My feet were already throbbing at the heel. Each turn left me more confused. The smile slowly faded from my face, sinking into a frown.
My shoulders, once firmly erect, now slumped forward. The only thing keeping me going now was rage and pride.
Why is the castle so damn big?
The halls stretched out endlessly before us, pillars lining the way in egg-white stone. Tan uniform walls made from brick, without a crack or crevice, that I knew I would be lost if I roamed alone.
Red and gold embroidered flowers on white fabric draped archways and doors.
So many damn doors.
I suppressed a sigh but couldn't contain the flat glare.
Rose smiled warmly. "You gave everyone such a scare, my lady. Your siblings have been beside themselves with worry. They will be so relieved to see you up and about."
Siblings. Right. Elizabeth had siblings. I needed to remember that.
"Your brothers have asked about you constantly." She turned to face me. "Lord Oliver especially—" Her words died as she noticed my expression. She slowed to a stop. "Goodness, are you well? That is not a look I have ever seen on your face."
I paused, looking around before pursing my lips. "Sorry, lost in thought—deep, deep thought. Right, Oliver? You were saying?"
Rose began walking again, that cheerful lilt in her voice. "Yes, my lady. He has been so worried. Always asking if there has been any change in your condition."
Lord Oliver. A brother named Oliver. I needed to remember that. Two brothers? Three? I racked my brain for the image Death showed me, but all I saw were blurred silhouettes—I need to pay attention.
Rose guided me toward what I assumed was the dining room. "You must be hungry."
I mumbled without thinking, "I could eat." I straightened my back, clearing my throat. "Yes. I am. Hungry, I mean."
The dining room doors were already partially opened as we arrived. The guards pulling them open. Their eyes averted as we walked through the double doors.
I barely had time to take in the scenery, as my body jolted. A small body crashed into my legs before I could register what was happening.
"Sissy! Sissy!" he giggled excitedly.
Short copper curls brushed my upper thighs. Small arms wrapped around my waist, squeezing tight. I stiffened, my arms raised—frozen at my waist, plastered smile in place.
What was I supposed to do? Hug back? Push away? I don't know this kid, but he clearly knew me—uh—Elizabeth.
"Oliver, control yourself."
A boy—maybe eighteen—stepped forward, prying the youngest off me with gentle but firm hands. He looked at me with warm honey-hazel eyes, a relieved smile on his face as he spoke. "Look at you. You are all better—come, sit." He guided Oliver firmly by the shoulder to the table.
I watched him curiously. His shirt was tucked neat but billowy, a yellow sash across his shoulder, with a red silk-like belt tied across his hips.
So this was the middle brother. And the little one—Oliver—was the youngest.
"Elizabeth."
A deep, smooth voice called. I turned, and my lips parted at the sight.
He was tall. A broad-shouldered glass of water, and I was thirsty.
Light brown skin. Dark, slick curls swept back. Honey-brown eyes. I covered my mouth with a gloved hand, biting my lip to suppress the groan desperately trying to tear from my lips.
As he approached me, I became painfully aware of our size difference. He stared at me momentarily, a small smile on his lips. I met his gaze and waved shyly at him—like a schoolgirl talking to her crush for the first time.
He bowed low at the waist, holding for a few moments before slowly rising.
He was so painfully attractive.
What to do?
Everything in that moment failed me. My breathing grew heavier as I looked at him.
"Welcome back, sister."
Sister. Right.
I inhaled, swallowing the lump of vulgarity that threatened to spill from my lips.
I bowed back before I could stop myself. So nervous, so awkward—absolutely not the smooth, graceful movement Elizabeth would have made. Because holy shit. My—her brother was hot.
My eyes locked onto the pretty polished floor beneath me.
Not my brother. Elizabeth's brother. Her brother. I had promised Death. I wouldn't—I mean, obviously I wouldn't. That would be insane. But hot is hot, and I had eyes, and those eyes were currently trying very hard not to stare.
"Thank you," I managed, before looking back at him with a shy glance. "It's good to be… back."
He guided me to a seat, his hand on my shoulder, while I prayed to anyone: give me strength not to be incestuous. He pulled out the chair, and I smoothed the dress under me as I took a seat. He slowly pushed me in, and I glanced up at the muscular arm wrapped in silk. I inhaled softly.
"Smells good," I mumbled with half lidded gaze.
He smiled down at me. "I am glad. It was prepared to celebrate your good health."
"Huh?" I said ungraciously.
"The food?" he said with an amused smile.
My lips parted as I chuckled. "A-ahh, right." I turned to face the meal with a bright smile. "The food…"
My smile fell at the sight of a small bird on my plate.
Not a wing.
Not a leg.
But the whole bird—feet included, head… excluded.
It was skinless, olive-brown with crispy patches on its side and back.
My lips receded at the sight, nose scrunched in disgust.
"Are you unwell?" My brother's worried voice called to me—not Oliver or the one making me risk morality. The middle one.
I nodded. "Yeah, just… don't think I'm hungry for…"
"Quail?" He finished with raised brows.
"Right—that. Fruit. I would prefer fruit."
The older one eyed me across the table as I tried desperately not to melt under his unreadable gaze.
He gave two crisp snaps.
Servants stepped in quickly, swapping my skinless bird for assorted fruits and breads. My stomach growled in approval.
"Better?" he asked.
I nodded vigorously. "Much. Thank you."
I picked up a slice of fruit, taking a small nibble. But how quickly that faded.
Small bites turned into bigger bites.
I was starving.
I scarfed down the fruit and reached for more bread, crunching aggressively, grabbing whatever was in front of me, barely even tasting it, let alone 'savoring' just eating—
"Oh my…"
That shocked whisper made me pause.
I lowered my hands into my lap, suddenly becoming more aware of every gaze, every whisper. I finally looked up to see disapproving stares.
The oldest brother's head turned slightly. A side-eye so cold it froze the whispers and stares instantly.
He turned back to me, face cradled by his left fist with a curious expression. "I understand you must be hungry. However, a lady of your status ought to pace herself." He offered a small smile. "Do you not agree?"
God, he was so hot when he was scolding me.
I dabbed my lip with the near by napkin, closing my eyes with a small exhale. "Of course B-brother." My voice faltered, all I could do was be quiet and eat what was left, albeit, slower.
----
I stood and brushed off my dress as breakfast wound to a close. Servants moved in the background, clearing the plates swiftly.
"I'd like to see the grounds," I announced, eyes on Rose.
"My lady—" she started.
"Yes," I continued, smoothing my skirt. "I think the air would be beneficial." I turned and walked toward what I hoped was the entrance.
Rose stepped in front of me, blocking my path. She shook her head adamantly, her lips pressed tight.
"You must await your father or mother's permission." She said, staring at me with her big, pleading green eyes.
"I'm sure Father wouldn't mind," I retorted, crossing my arms beneath my ridiculous rack. God, I loved them.
Soft footsteps clacked against the tile behind us. It was him—my oldest brother—he wiped his hands calmly with a linen cloth, his deep voice slicing through the challenge directed at Rose.
"I agree. Father would not approve of you leaving the grounds, Elizabeth."
My face fell in defeat. Lips parted to protest, but his hand settled on my shoulder.
"Beyond the gates—no." A knowing smile tugged at his mouth. He glanced at Rose. "But the gardens… are acceptable."
Rose's eyes widened. She leaned forward, voice dropping to a hesitant whisper. "Lord Malaki, are you certain?"
Malaki. My oldest brother's name. His smile didn't falter.
"A carriage ride along the inner grounds would not be unreasonable."
He patted my back gently. Warmth spread through my shoulder from his palm, and I smiled up at him.
I could fall in love with him.
Rose shifted awkwardly, looking around like my father or mother would appear any moment. She exhaled, closing her eyes with a reluctant nod. "if it is your order, I cannot deny it."
"It is," he said softly, looking at me as he tucked a stray coil back into the elaborate updo Rose had created. "What harm could it do?" he said as he gave a small, amused chuckle. My face grew warm.
He had to have been flirting. This couldn't be normal sibling behavior.
I grabbed Rose's wrist, a childlike grin breaking out across my face. "You heard him, let's—"
Every servant in the vicinity paused. Stopped mid-motion and stared at the display.
Right.
I released her immediately. Stepped back, and bowed properly to Malaki.
"Thank you," I said softly. "That would be most appreciated."
--
Rose guided me down a sweeping staircase that curved outward in a swell-like motion—its twin to the left of me like a mirror. Each banister was carved from dark lacquered wood, polished to such a sheen that I could see distorted reflections of myself sliding along its surface as we descended. We finally approached the open archway at the front of the castle, warmer, brighter, filled with the scent of trimmed hedges and sun-warmed stone.
The moment we stepped outside, light flooded my vision. I squinted, covering my eyes until I adjusted.
And there it was.
A pristine white carriage rested at the foot of the steps, its surface gleaming like porcelain beneath the afternoon sun, a blazing red iron trim curving elegantly along its edges. It was such a drastic difference—but it fit, beautifully. Two towering black stallions stood harnessed at the front, their coats so glossy they looked almost blue beneath the light.
"Oh my God," I breathed before I could stop myself. "This is beautiful."
Rose made a soft, giddy hum behind me, clearly pleased that something had finally impressed me appropriately.
The horses were massive—far larger than any I had ever seen up close. Their legs were thick and powerful, hooves dark and polished, tails sweeping lazily. Their eyes were a dark brown, reflective and alert.
I stepped closer before Rose could stop me, my gloved hand reaching out toward the nearest stallion's upper flank.
The horse jerked its head sharply, nostrils flaring, and in one violent motion kicked backward, hooves scraping into the gravel. Dirt sprayed upward, scattering across the front of my dress and catching in my throat.
I staggered back, coughing, one hand flying to my chest as grit clung to my gloves.
"Agnes!" a commanding, worn voice barked.
An older man hurried forward from the carriage's side, slick-backed silver hair, his sun-bronzed skin covered with lines and wrinkles from years of outdoor work. His dark eyes narrowed as he reached for the reins, tightening his hold.
"Have you lost your sense entirely?" he scolded under his breath, voice low as he reprimanded him. "That is Lady Elizabeth."
The stallion snorted, pawing at the ground again, ears flicking back.
The man turned abruptly and dropped into a deep bow before me. "My deepest apologies, my lady. I do not know what has come over him. He has never behaved so poorly."
I waved my hand weakly through the dust, still coughing. "It's—fine. I'm fine."
Rose hovered anxiously at my side, brushing at my sleeves with frantic little swipes. It was dirt, nothing I couldn't handle.
"I'm fine rose." I coughed.
The coachman rose carefully and approached the horse again, murmuring low soothing words, his hand stroking down its neck with familiarity. "Easy now," he muttered. "You know her scent."
I watched Agnes warily with narrowed eyes.
Does he though?
He turned back to me, gesturing cautiously. "If it pleases you, my lady, perhaps you might try again. Slowly."
I hesitated, then extended my hand once more, this time more cautiously, never taking my eyes off of Agnes's eyes.
Agnes's head raised. Tense, but still.
Then, with a blustering exhale, he stamped again, hooves striking the gravel again sending another spray of dirt scattering towards me. I swipes at the dirt, coughing louder. My jaw locking in anger as I glared at it. Agnes seemed to watch me with a glint in his eyes.
Stupid horse was enjoying this.
Rose gasped.
The coachman immediately dropped to his knees, forehead nearly touching the ground. "My lady, I beg your forgiveness. This is inexcusable. I will see him disciplined at once."
Disciplined? Sounds good.
But Elizabeth wouldn't outright endorse that.
I brushed the dirt from my gloves, looking at the coachman's back. "There's no need for theatrics," I muttered, glancing between the man and the animal. "He doesn't like me. That's all."
The coachman looked horrified. "N-no my lady, but he does. You've always fed him apples and brushed his coat when you felt up to—I-I'm sorry" he apologized again. I watched Agnes with analytical eyes.
I see, so that's it. Maybe he realizes something is up.
I exhaled, adjusting the gaudy hat. "Let us simply proceed."
The man scrambled to his feet and hurried to open the carriage door, offering his hand to assist me inside. I accepted, stepping carefully up the small iron rung and lowering myself into the cushioned seat within. The interior was lined with red upholstery stitched with gold thread, soft enough that I sank slightly upon sitting, the faint scent of lavender and something grassy, lingering in the enclosed space. I leaned my head back with a smile.
Oh this is nice.
Rose followed, sitting opposite me as the door shut with a click. I heard the snap of the reins as the carriage began to move.
Through the window, the castle grounds unfolded in all its glory. Manicured hedges carved into different shapes, their tops trimmed so neat they looked sculpted rather than grown. Tall cypress trees and their shadows stretching long across the pale gravel paths that branched out like arteries from the main courtyard. Fountains glittered in the distance, water cascading into the wide marble basins.
Beyond the gardens rose the outer walls—tall, strong, not something easily penetrated. Guards paced along the upper walkways.
It was beautiful.
The wheels rolled smoothly along the path beneath us. I pressed my gloved fingertips lightly against the glass, watching sunlight coat the statues and the breeze shake the trees.
"So this," I murmured softly, "is my world."
Rose smiled warmly.
My eyes lowered halfway, lashes casting faint shadows over my cheeks as I leaned my temple lightly against the cool pane.
I had never seen anything like this.
Even the air felt different here—cleaner, lighter, untouched by the kind of heaviness I had grown used to breathing in my world.
How could I compare anything I had ever known to this?
The Polluted air. The worn down homes. The noise. The pain.
This felt like something out of a dream—one of those realistic dreams you wake from once you realize feels too good to be true, embarrassed for ever believing it might be real.
A girl like me was never meant to see something like this.
My lips pulled into a smile.
Maybe Death hadn't been entirely cruel.
The carriage turned slightly, and I let my gaze drift lazily toward the tree line bordering the far edge of the gardens.
Clusters of birds dotted the treetops ahead—white, grey, soft brown bodies fluttering among the branches as the carriage past a wide cypress grove.
I smiled faintly.
For a moment, the sight pulled me somewhere else entirely. Back to cracked sidewalks and raging roads that often screeched with loud tires, pigeons roamed openly and unafraid, like they owned the city. Their heads bobbing with delusional authority. I remembered one flying over Lynn's head, dropping a hot splatter of crap against her forehead while she screamed in horror, arms flailing, swearing and kicking her car in anger.
It was funny. Hilarious, even.
Until it wasn't.
The smile fell from my lips as I cradled my jaw in memory with a soft sigh. Still painful, but the memory felt distant now. Softer. Almost sweet.
God, I need help.
My gaze drifted lazily across the branches again, before it stopped.
Among the birds were two darker figures, tucked deeper into the foliage. They did not preen. They did not hop or ruffle their feathers.
They just watched.
I sat up straight, eyes wide with recognition.
Aeter.
Zahir.
Heat flared suddenly at the base of my neck, spreading upward like a brand beneath my skin. I lifted a hand instinctively and rubbed firmly at the spot, as though I could numb it through friction alone.
"My lady?" Rose's concerned voice floated toward me. "Are you unwell?"
I turned to her, lips tight in a forced smile. "Fine."
I shifted my gaze toward the window.
They were there. Not the birds.
But the long black silhouettes of Aeter and Zahir. Pressed up close against the window. A small slit opened into a massive hole beneath their bright white socket—like a mouth.
I recoiled instinctively, my back slamming into the opposite wall of the carriage as a sharp scream tore from my throat. The carriage screeched violently to a stop.
Outside, the coachman shouted in alarm. Rose was at my side immediately, hands gripping my shoulders, her voice tumbling over itself in worried questions I barely registered.
I ignored her.
All I could focus on was the pounding of my heart and the ghostly figures watching me.
My glare locked onto the window.
Master's Orders.
The words stretched hoarsely, painful against the ears like a knife dragged across an eardrum. I covered my ears in pain as they repeated it like a mantra.
A reminder.
A contract that did not disappear because the gardens were beautiful.
My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as I covered my heart, afraid they'd rip the life from it if they heard its heavy beats.
Dammit. I couldn't just have this one moment.