Swapped Fate

24: Rants of Aqua.

Curse Tristan Devereux. Curse him, curse him, curse him! He nicknamed me fraudster and yet he was the king of tricks and dodgy behaviour!

It had been three days since he tricked me with Arejinn and so every time I drank my medicine—mornings and evenings—I cursed him a considerable amount of times. By the third day, however, my condition had improved to the point where I was able to move my tongue and speak. Unfortunately, it was at a low volume. As much as I would have loved to scream at that good-for-nothing, I still had to take it easy on my larynx.

The journal had served its purpose, thought it hadn’t quite quenched my thirst for vengeance upon the fiend.

I wished to shock him to paleness, crawl under his skin like a thousand cockroaches and return his prank tenfold. I wanted to destroy him. And the perfect idea of how to do so hit me that Friday morning as I sifted through my wardrobe.

There, before my very eyes sparkled the perfect weapon for Tristan’s shock value and his downfall. Enchanted, I reached for it, my hand caressing the soft fabric while my eyes twinkled with awe. So beautiful yet so triggering to one.

Grinning, I changed into the dress with the excitement of a rogue about to commit her first evil crime. It was the perfect day to wear the aqua-coloured dress that Tristan had forbidden me from purchasing. This was because Lea was not around to chide me and possibly strip me of it.

The previous night, Madam Felicity had informed me of a sick relative of hers, in the province of Lenshire, and that she would be accompanied by Lea to go and see her. The two of them had left before dawn, and would not be expected to return until tomorrow.

I had a look at myself in the mirror and could not help but smile at the beautiful reflection. The only thing that did cause a frown was my hair. Particularly, Tristan’s navy blue tie that kept it held back.

I always forgot to buy a hair tie. I didn’t bring any of my old ones because...well...they were old—with the fabric chewed up in a most unflattering manner.  And at that time, I didn’t pay no mind as I had practically owned his necktie. I had grown so accustomed to it that it would feel strange if something else held my hair.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts and I walked over to answer it. Madam Felicity’s handmaiden, Miss Jocelyn, stood behind the door.

She was in her usual black and white apron, her grey-black hair in the same style; pulled back into a low bun, a partition in the middle of her head. She was usually indifferent towards me, but now her typically dull face expressed some emotion the second she saw me.

Her lips parted as she scanned me from head to toe. This was the first emotion she’d worn around me—surprise.

“Good morning Miss Jocelyn!” I chirped, beaming.

She did not beam back, unsurprisingly. “Miss Mavis.” Her normally flat voice held an undertone of seriousness. She looked into my eyes and said, “You should change out of this dress immediately.”

I should have known.

“Is that an order, Miss Jocelyn?”

“Of course not. Just a word of advice, Miss Mavis,” she replied. “This colour is not particularly welcome in this house, and it is especially frowned upon by Mr. Tristan. It would do you good to refrain from wearing it.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Ridiculous.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Am I not allowed to wear something beautiful simply because Tristan dislikes it?” I asked. “Yes yes, he already made his hatred for the colour known to me, and Lea as well scolded me for purchasing this dress. But you know what? That’s just ridiculous. And I refuse to be shackled this way.”