Painted Roses

Wicked Minds

                  

Rosalia pulled on the reins, forcing her horse to a stop, her breath swirling around her in the night-time air as she looked across the moonlit lake towards the ruins of the Play Castle. This was a bad idea. Plain and simple, it was bad idea.

She should have brought her brother along with her rather than just leaving a message for him. She should have explained everything to him ages ago.

Adjusting the reins, she pushed her tired horse on to the edge of the gardens before swinging off and dropping the ground, pulling her cape around her as she swept into the darkness of the garden paths, past the silent empty well and up the crumbling stairs that led into the interior of the castle.

She couldn't even hear the wind within the walls of the palace. Without the sounds of any night time wildlife and her own footsteps muffled against the ancient carpets, the hurried walk towards Braydon's old office was chillingly eerie. She felt a cold settle inside her that had nothing to do with the air outside.

She reached the office doors and stopped to listen.

She couldn't hear anything inside.

Leaning back, she reached for the door handles and they suddenly lowered, the doors flying open and Rosalia jumped back and Lucinda appeared, holding the doors wide.

"Good, I'm glad you decided to come," Lucinda said, stepping back and spinning away. Her hand flicked towards the desk and several candles sat on the table flickered to life. "Quickly, we must find Braydon as well. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"I don't," Rosalia said as she pulled off her cape and set it aside, looking around.

"I shall have to cast a seeking spell then. You are sure he will be somewhere around the Play Castle?"

"I believe so."

"Well, that is good enough. Did you tell my brother you were coming here?"

"No. I didn't speak to him."

"Well that's alright, we can explain what happened later. Did you tell your family? Surely you can't just vanish without a trace without sending out alarm bells?"

Rosalia opened her mouth to say she'd left a note then paused. She shook her head. "No," she lied, "No I didn't tell anyone. I left right after you. They will assume I returned to Waxwane Manor."

Lucinda nodded as she walked around the desk and reached for a bag that lay on top of it.

"Alright," she said, opening the top and reaching inside. Her hand gripped something, she pulled it out and Rosalia backed away instantly as a dagger appeared, blade gleaming in the faint moonlight, the hilt bedeck with jewels.

Lucinda glanced up as she moved then shook her head.

"Relax, this is not intended for you," she said, turning away and carefully climbing up onto the old chair beside her so she was level with the top of the painting.

She adjusted her grip on the hilt, raised her hand and dug the blade into the edge of the canvas, ripping through the fabric, tearing away the portrait she had so brilliantly painted. It fell away, Lucinda gripping it as it drooped and when the last of it was cut free, she threw it aside and stepped down, backing away so she and Rosalia could see what was left.

Rosalia's eyes widened.

There was another painting behind it.

Lucinda moved around to stand beside her and folded her arms, letting out a slow sigh as they looked at the image.