Once Upon A [Hidden] Time - [Stolen] Series IV

CHAPTER 3

EDWARD
17 JUNE 1415

"Let her sleep, Emma." It was the first time I had addressed her in months.

Like a spoiled child, she did not heed my advice. She kept shaking Myra, trying to wake her up, but Myra refused to stir. I knew she would doze off at any moment, but I did not want her to sleep without dinner. Jasmine's book had indeed exhausted her, and I wondered how the book could have burned her hand. What kind of witchcraft was going on around here?

"Wake up, aunty!" Emma whispered. "I want to listen to the story."

"Emma," I mumbled. "Your aunty had a long day."

"But I want to listen to the story," she argued. It was the first time in months that she looked at me and talked to me. I never imagined a day like this would ever come.

"She will tell the story to all the children in the morning." I sifted through my work, finishing the last sketch I was working on this afternoon.

"But what shall I do until then?" She was never this demanding, was she? Myra has been giving her company since she had arrived, but I had no idea what to do with her since she hated me so much.

I still gathered my courage to talk. "Why not come here and see what I am doing?"

She peeked from the bed, looking towards my journal. She waited for a moment, glanced at my sleeping angel, and flung herself off the bed. She took her steps very cautiously, as if there was danger waiting for her. I moved to create space for her on the chaise. After a long time, she sat next to me. I wanted to hug her, cuddle her, feel the warmth of her innocence, but I dared not. She was a childhood version of Veronica. With her by my side, I could never heal my pain of V's death.

"What are you doing?" she asked, peeking into my work.

"Sketching," I answered. "Do you want to see?"

She nodded. I handed her the sketches one by one.

"They are all of aunty," she gaped. She picked up the one of when it was raining. "Did it really rain?"

"Indeed," I answered quietly.

"You do love her, do you not?" she inquired, as if I was attending the council of justice. She sounded just like Veronica. Had she matured in the past three months, and I had not noticed?

"Why do you say so?"

"Because..." She thought for a second, picking up another sketch in which Myra was looking out the window, wearing her lilac gown—her lace-clad back throwing me to the wilderness. "You have never drawn any human before."

Was that the only reason why I loved her? Emma was right, though. I had made sketches of nature, but never of any person. But what she did not know was that I was drawing sketches for something else—something that I would gift Myra one day.

"You want to keep her forever in your memory," she remarked. I inhaled sharply, wondering when this child had learned to talk like an adult. "Is she going somewhere?" She met my eyes. "Will she leave us?"

"She cannot stay here forever," I replied, trying to gulp the hideous thought of leading my life without Myra.

"Why not?"

Such a curious little devil she is!

"She cannot live here forever." I averted my gaze from Emma, who was still staring at me blatantly. "She has a family. She has a life outside of this castle."

"But she loves you," she argued. I snapped my head in her direction. "Why would she leave if she loves you?" Was it so obvious how much we both loved each other that even a seven-year-old child could see?