VIOLET DAWN

Chapter 37

Even though the guards had cleaned the cottage twice in the last day, Violet could still smell the stench of her vomit lingering in the air. At least she no longer felt sick to her stomach. Instead, after many hours of rocking on the ground and beating her head with her fists, she was now calm. She looked at her life to date almost like an outsider now; an observer.

First she was born. She had known nothing. Had talked to her doll and stared at the paintings that lined the hallways of the mansion she called home, making up stories. Those first seven years, she had lived in a world of make-believe. And though she did not have a father, and her mother's rare visits were painful at best, hadn't known any better, so she hadn't been sad.

Then came the day of her blindness, and the week that followed where she had coward under the covers and eventually been forced to run for her life.

Two days into the woods as she lay down on the roots of a tree, she had almost given up; almost wished for death. And she would have stayed there, immobile until it was all over, if it were not for her hatred. Her hatred for Ismail had forced her to walk, until she came upon the tavern. And her hatred for Ismail had forced her to fight her way out of that very same place two years later.

The Gypsies had found her only hours after her flight. They had stopped their caravan for her, taken her by the hand and seated her beside Boris who was then a little boy. She had asked no questions and neither had they. But she had never let go of the knife she had stolen from the tavern kitchen.

She had never let go, until four nights ago, when her hatred of Ismail had nearly cost the life of the man she loved.

And now she knew all of it had been a lie.

And after crying twenty years worth of tears, she was calm, because for the first time in her life she could see what she had become; bitter, enslaved to her mission, and blind to the world.

Now, it was finally time to wake up.

Inhaling a shaky breath, Violet ran her hands over her cold arms. After three days on water, she was exhausted and cold. The hunger itself didn't bother her too much, it came and left in waves. 'If the brain is strong, the body will not give up' the Seer had told her many times.

If she ever got out of here, she would go back to Scotland, back to her gypsy family. But first, she had one more thing to do.

The sound of carriage wheels alerted her to visitors approaching. She breathed rapidly, and among every other smell, his was the strongest.

Her heart beat quickened and she allowed herself to feel, only for one small moment, the wonder of her love for the blood drinker. His hand, strong and warm around hers, as they wondered the halls of the botanic gardens...His lips soft on her brow, his voice in her ear; 'Is it wrong that I have become obsessed with trying to make you smile?' 

She had had no answer for him that day, but if he asked her  now, she would say: no. A thousand times: no. But he wouldn't speak to her like that anymore. He hated her. And as much as it hurt her, she would not fault him for his hate.

The door to the cottage opened, letting in the cold air, as they walked through one by one. First Patrick, then Ismail and Angelica...

"We have come to speak with you," Angelica said, as the door closed to the outside world.

Violet wet her dry lips. She had done Angelica wrong as well. The Princess had befriended her and helped her, as had her brother. She had betrayed them all.

"I am glad you have come," she replied, "There is much I wish to say."

"There is?" Angelica sounded surprised, and judging by the sound of shifting beside the woman, so were the others.