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

CHAPTER 42

EDWARD
27 JUNE 1415

"Any idea where Lady Farrow is?" Lord James asked nervously.

That's what I was wondering, too. She had been away for quite a while. He gave her something to read, and then she urgently dragged Haakon out of the hall. She must have read something unpleasing. But why had she not returned yet? Why did she want to see Haakon alone? She should have asked me to confront him. Were we not supposed to be soul mates?

"I will check," I answered, leaving my seat.

I had enough of these gossipmongers. I could not believe the Cardinal was feeding doubts in people's minds that Myra was a Moorish spy. I had nothing to say in her defence. It was I who pulled her into my world. How could she be a spy from any country?

I tracked Myra to the place where she had left, but after leaving the hall, I was clueless. She could have retired to the chamber, wondering what Emma was doing. She could have gone outside to sit under the stars. She could have gone to the library, though I had instructed her not to visit it without me. She could have gone to the chapel, though I had strictly warned her not to. But considering her curious mind, she could have, to check the powers of the mirror.

Cursing under my breath, I followed my instincts and decided to check the chapel first.

When I entered the corridor that leads to the chapel, I saw her crouching down on the floor, in one of the darkened naves—her knees buckled to her chest, her head hidden. I approached her, and in the utter silence of the evening, I realised she was crying.

My heart started beating erratically, thinking of all the worst possibilities. Was Emma all right? Did Haakon say something to her? Did someone hurt her?

"Myra?" I placed my hand on her shoulder.

Cringing at my touch, she rolled herself harder into a knotted yarn of grief. She was scaring me. Why was she crying?

"What happened, Bellissima?"

She did not answer, but kept her sobs low.

I pulled her hand from her face and raised her chin. "Who brought you to tears?"

She fell into another fit of whimpering. I noticed she was clutching a piece of paper tightly to her heart and had a bag in her lap. I opened her palm gently and took the sheet from her. Upon seeing the content, my world started to turn upside down.

"What in the devil's name is this?"

On the sheet was a painting of Myra in her lilac gown—the same dress she wore when she entered my world—and a man putting a ring on her finger. I scanned the title and took my time to read the contents.

"God's teeth!" I mumbled. The man was Steve. "Did something happen to Steve?"

She took her time to collect herself. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she answered, "He is being charged for my disappearance."

I inhaled sharply. "Is that the reason you are crying?"

"Don't you see, Edward?" she yelled, her voice echoing across the corridor. "I have ruined his life, his reputation, his career." It was her guilt that was hurting her. Steve was her closest friend, and now that she knew what trouble he was going through, her conscience was killing her.

"Haakon told you?"

She nodded, still sobbing. "He told me the authorities arrested him for my abduction." Sniffling, she continued, "All of England knows him, Edward, and his family's name is tainted because of me." More tears sprang from her eyes. "And he still cares. He is still worried about me."

Indeed, he is! I wanted to tell her, but what if what Haakon said was true? What if I lose this connection with Steve? He had told me things about Jasmine that I knew not before. He was giving me information about my ancestors that I was completely unaware of. How could I afford to lose this connection when I knew that Myra's life could be in danger, should the King decide to own her? I had to figure out a way to send her back to the man who, despite facing her betrayal, was still worried about her.

"He is my friend, Edward," she repeated, whimpering. "He gave me his loyalty, his friendship, and what did I give him? Nothing. I gave him this." She gestured at the piece of paper in my hand.

Gulping at her words, I said, "This painting...it looks lifelike."

She chuckled. "It's not a painting. It's a photograph."

"What is a photograph?"

"What we saw in Jasmine's book," she answered, "something like still moments recorded." I still could not understand what she said, but I pretended to.

"Are you worried about him?"

"I have ruined his life," she said, her voice cracking in grief. "Knowing that, how can I live a happy life here?"

Her words were true, but they stung hard. Was she trying to tell me that she and I would never be happy?

"I have ruined a man's life," she repeated with a fresh set of tears. "I have ruined his career, his dream." Glancing at the piece of paper again, she continued, "He was the only one who understood my love for you. He shattered his dream to fulfil my wish." Sniffing, she wiped her fresh tears again.

I knew not what to say. Her words were hurting me, but they were true.

"On our betrothal," she went on, "among a thousand people, he was the only one who noticed my pain. He was the only one who could feel how desperate I was to stop you from leaving the castle." I tried to absorb her words. "Knowing how much I wanted you, he still brought me to you—on the day of our betrothal." There was so much regret in her eyes. "He brought me here just to make me happy, and what did I give him in return?"

Why was she accusing herself? Was it not my fault for pulling her into my world?

"When you disappeared while I was talking to you through the mirror, he was the one encouraging me to talk to you again." She wiped her nose on her sleeves. "And now he is being blamed for my disappearance. How can he prove himself innocent when I am here?"

Again, I knew not what to say, but I still gathered my courage to ask, "Do you wish to return?" My heart thudded loudly in my chest. "To him?" Though I had asked, would I truly let her go if she said yes? Would I be able to live without her?

Upon my question, she stared at me, her sobbing stopped.