The frozen heart

Chapter 10: The Cursed One

Chapter 10: The Cursed One

It didn't happen overnight. Building trust with the was like coaxing a wild animal out of hiding—a delicate, patient process that required more than just kind words and food. Anne quickly realized that he wasn't just wary of her; he was wary of everyone. And who could blame him? The boy was a ghost in the castle, seen but unseen, feared but ignored, burdened by a curse that set him apart.

The first time he accepted her bread offering was a small victory, but Anne knew it would take more than one gesture to break through his guarded exterior. She made a point of visiting the garden at the same time every day, always with something for him—bread, fruit, a slice of cheese—whatever she could sneak from the kitchen without raising suspicion.

At first, their meetings were brief. The boy would emerge from the shadows just long enough to take the food and retreat. He never said a word, and his icy eyes remained fixed on her with a mix of suspicion and confusion. Anne didn't push him. She simply smiled and left, hoping that in time, he would come to trust her.

A week passed, and then another. Anne began to notice small changes in his behavior. He no longer snatched the food from her hand like a starving animal; instead, he took it gently, almost carefully. He still didn't speak, but his eyes no longer held the same fearful intensity. There was something else in them now—something softer, more curious.

One afternoon, after handing him a slice of bread, Anne lingered longer than usual. She sat down on the low stone wall by the garden, her back to the sprawling castle grounds. For a while, he stayed where he always did—on the opposite side of the garden, half-hidden behind a hedge. But then, to her surprise, he stepped out from his hiding spot and cautiously approached her, bread in hand.

Anne pretended not to notice at first, not wanting to scare him off. She kept her gaze on the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead. Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt him come closer.

When he finally sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them, Anne smiled to herself. It wasn't much, but it was progress.

"I always wondered what it's like to live in a place like this," Anne said, her voice light, as if talking to a friend. "A castle, I mean. Where I'm from, castles are just... well, they're old ruins. No one lives in them anymore."

He glanced at her, his brows knitting together in confusion. Anne realized how strange her words must have sounded in this world.

"But I guess this place isn't quite what I imagined," she added with a wry smile. "Too much scrubbing pots and peeling vegetables for my liking."

The boy didn't respond, but Anne thought she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the distant clatter of the kitchen staff preparing for the evening meal. Anne felt a strange sense of peace in his presence, even though he barely spoke and kept his distance. There was something unspoken between them, a quiet understanding that neither of them was entirely at home in this world.

After that day, their meetings became more frequent, and the boy grew bolder. He no longer waited for her to leave the food and go; instead, he would sit with her, silently eating while she talked. Anne told him stories—some from her own life, some from books she'd read. She didn't know if he understood everything she said, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he listened.

One chilly morning, as Anne approached the garden with a basket of apples, she noticed him already waiting for her by the wall. He stood there, his thin frame outlined against the pale morning sky, his eyes watching her intently.