The Beastkeeper's Bride

17: Love & Grief Hold Hands

17: Love & Grief Hold Hands

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Four Years Ago

"What are you doing?"

Lillian did not lift her head to acknowledge the presence of her sister who was standing nervously on the threshold of her chambers. The hour was late and if their rooms hadn't been adjoined, Millie would not have heard Lillian's restless movements that was indicative of her sibling's alertness. Instead, Lillian swung the fur-lined coat over her shoulders and fastened it closed at the base of her neck, tugging the hood over her brown hair and fixing the long braid to drape over her shoulder.

"Lillian," Millie said when it became obvious her sister held no intention of acknowledging her question. It was odd yet that her sister was firstly awake and secondly- her mood.

Blackness hung heavily over her beautiful brow, drawing her gracefully arched lines together in a scowl of harshness that was so unnatural on her normally aloofly composed sister's face. It made Millie uneasy- her intuition warning her that Lillian was in a foul mood.

When she knelt on the floor beside her bed and pulled from under the wooden frame her large, ornately carved crossbow, Millie almost bolted forward and grabbed it from her hands. She knew better, though. Lillian, being older, taller and stronger, would easily best her in a tussle and today was no exception with her darkening temperament.

"Tell me," Lillian said at last as she secured the weapon to her back by means of a leather harness strapped across her torso, "have you heard from your Peter, sister?"

At the name, Millie warmed giddily and she suppressed the smile that threatened to curl her lips, sure that whatever foulness was besieging her sibling would not welcome any silly notions of infatuation on her behalf. She felt herself besotted with the gentleman; the charming, handsome Peter Trafford who had proceeded to woo her the past season and, quite literally, sweep her off her feet. She was sure he was to propose, especially after the night prior, and a warm blush crept up her cheeks at the memory.

"Not since the day before," she said, admiration and cheerfulness injected into her tone. She couldn't help it- being with Peter made her feel like every part of her body came alive, every moment with him was new and titillating-

"He called here today," Lillian said flatly, turning away once more while her fingers worked ceaselessly at the buckles of her harness.

"Oh." Millie frowned thoughtfully and she came inside the chamber to place herself on the edge of her sister's bed. "But I was in residence-"

"He called upon me."

Millie did not say anything to that though her confusion was apparent on her countenance. Lillian had stopped fidgeting finally and turned to her sister, her eyes so very cold and hard as they caught and retained the flames of the oil lamps lit about the chamber.

"He proposed, Millie."

"He did?" There was a numbing cloud settling heavily on her mind, running parallel with the confusion, and she could not think for it. Why would Peter talk to her sister and not her father about marriage? Perhaps he knew of the closeness of their relationship and sought approval from Lillian first to ensure good standing between himself and his future sister-in-law. "Why did he speak to you and not father about our engagement-"

Her mouth hung open uselessly when Lillian's hands spanned the sides of her face, drawing her words to a brusque halt on the tip of her tongue and forcing their gazes to meet. She thought she saw contrition flash through Lillian's eyes but it was fleeting and the hardness so consuming and cold it was all Millie could find herself aware of. "Not for your hand, Millie. He wants mine- he wanted mine all along."