Legacy Disowned - Book 2

Chapter 22 - The Past

April 1883

Arsene Gaunt paid no mind to the dirt building up under his nails as he rooted through the flower bed of the family conservatory. He was on a mission and nobody, not the house staff, nor his old bat of a mother were going to stop him.

One by one he stuffed the bulbs into his jacket pockets, making sure he did not overlook a single colour that reminded him of her.

When he was finally satisfied, he hurried towards the garden with a sense of purpose. But when the arch that marked its centre came into view, his steps faltered. He'd not been to the spot where it had happened since the burial.

Something inside of him knew that the moment he went beyond that row of hydrangea bushes, the memories would come rushing back. He didn't want to remember, but he knew he would never be able to forget— not like Ominis.

His wretch of a little brother was always treated like a delicate little prince for his disability, but Arsene knew better. Ominis' impairment was a blessing.

Ominis hadn't had to see. Ominis had never known those eyes that could show more shades of emotion than colours in the rainbow. And Ominis hadn't had to watch those eyes go dull and dark... forever.

Swallowing the hard lump that had formed in his throat, Arsene stepped around the hydrangeas. There it was. The fresh mound of earth where the child sized casket had been buried, covered in a smattering of white calla lilies.

Arsene glared at the flowers. He half expected them to burst into flame from the unbridled rage he felt at the sight of them. If it wasn't bad enough the old bat had refused to lay her in the family plot, she at least could have put the tiniest bit of thought into her final resting place.

Even black lillies would have been more fitting. An acknowledgement of her resilience to all the absolute bullshit she had been forced to endure. But white lilies... they were an insult. The most basic flower of condolence, placed on a grave with a stone more befitting a family pet than his beloved half sister.

Arsene could still picture the fierceness that had burned in his little flower's eyes when she'd challenged him to cast the curse on her himself. The mental image made his chest ache unbearably.

He tried to tell himself that he wasn't to blame, that all the little prince had to do was cast the damned spell and release it. She would have used magic, just like Arsene had when Vasileios had cast it on him all those years ago. But no matter how many times he repeated this reasoning in his mind, that damned ache would not subside. Maybe... if he'd just tried...

Letting out a frustrated grunt between anger and pain, Arsene lunged forward, ripping the absurd lilies from the ground and tossing them aside. Soon the small mound was clear and the tattered white flowers were forgotten in a careless heap along with the clumps of dirt that had come with their roots. He then pulled the bulbs from his jacket, carefully placing each into the freshly turned earth.

When his pockets were empty, he stood back, pulling out his wand and muttering the incantation he'd practiced. One by one, flat green shoots emerged from the soil, slowly followed by the frilly blooms. Fierce red, calming blue, exuberant orange, passionate pink, sophisticated black, regal purple, cheery yellow and finally pure, innocent white. Irises of every colour had completely obscured the mound. Even this rainbow of colour paled in comparison to his little flower, but it was the best he could do.

There was a sudden snapping of a twig, followed by a frightened gasp. Arsene's head jerked in the direction of the sound to see Ominis, darting around the hydrangeas, oblivious to the fact the red light emanating from his wand made him impossible to miss. The little brat was clutching that damned stitched up stuffed kitten to his chest as he scurried, terrified back up to the house and Arsene sighed.