Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Twenty-four

The morning light trickled into the Sapphire Suite as Cressida cautiously peered through the crack in her bedroom door. She wrapped her night shawl tightly around herself, a sense of unease settling within her. The strange absence of Mint and Cilla reminded her of the early days of her confinement, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"...Mint?" Cressida called into the Sapphire Suite. And then quieter, more hopeful, "...Cilla?"

There was only silence in response. No familiar voices, no comforting presence.

Cressida made her way into the main room, pausing when she saw a pile of clothes and a note on the coffee table. The messy handwriting was unmistakably Callidus's, with an extreme right slant and sharp angular strokes.

"My Beloved Marigold,

As my prisoner, you will no longer be afforded the luxury of a Lady's maid attending to your needs. From now on, you are expected to dress yourself. These are dresses that you can put on without assistance. Of course, should you require assistance, I would be more than willing to provide it.

Expect me at 7:30 this morning.

Your Circumstance"

A surge of anger and despair welled up within her. She furiously crumpled the note in her hand and stared down at the dresses. Plain, functional, and devoid of any adornment, they were garments meant to serve a purpose, nothing more.

Frustrated and filled with a sense of loss, Cressida angrily threw the note to the floor and stormed back to her bedroom. Memories of Cilla, who had naturally selected her dress just the day before, pained her momentarily as she rummaged through her wardrobe. Finally, she retrieved one of the three travel dresses that didn't require a corset.

Carelessly discarding her nightdress, Cressida's hands trembled with frustration as she struggled to put on the coffee brown gown. The fabric seemed to twist and resist her efforts, and her impatience only made matters worse. In her haste, she managed to put it on inside out, the seams on full display.

Realizing her mistake, Cressida let out an exasperated sigh. She awkwardly removed the gown, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over her. How was such a simple task so difficult? Regardless, she certainly was not going to take Callidus up on his inappropriate and insufferable offer.

After what felt like an embarrassingly long period of time - and a disastrous attempt at braiding her hair - Cressida finally emerged from her bedroom, only to be met with irritation upon seeing Callidus already waiting for her. He stood rigidly in the center of the room, his arms crossed, and his gaze fixed upon the crumpled note lying on the floor.

Cressida's anger flared as they locked eyes, his head tilting in curiosity as he stared at her chosen attire. "Is this your attempt at defiance?"

"Is this your attempt at controlling me?" Cressida shot back, gesturing to the untouched pile of dresses on the coffee table. "And you know I don't have a clock in this room."

Callidus quirked a brow. "Really? I assumed you kept me waiting on purpose. Or perhaps you encountered difficulties while dressing. I seem to recall it posing a challenge for you before."

Cressida's face flushed with embarrassment as Callidus's words hit their mark.

"Where is Mint?"

"Mint has been reassigned." Callidus replied calmly. "She will drop off your meals at the door but is no longer permitted to visit or speak to you."

Cressida's eyes widened in alarm, "Why?"

"I wonder." Callidus murmured. "Just as I wondered how you learned of my father's passing."