The Princess and the Warlock

Chapitre Trente-Neuf

Though the outside looked the same, the inside of Gossington felt different.

It was as if all of the strange pressure from the Wildwood border transported itself inside Gossington, because as soon as I stepped through the door, the air became heavy, weighing down and nearly crushing the floor, and giving me a sort of panicky feeling. I couldn't explain the rush of anxiety that was welling, being summoned to the surface.

And it was cold. Gossington had become cold when Kaius' magic stopped working.

That thought, as simple as it was, added to the weight.

The staircase was just ahead of me, and, somewhat blindly, I moved toward them. My mind was at work filling with images, and I tried to imagine the last time someone was in this house—him, carrying my unconscious form down these steps, intending on taking me back to the palace. I wish that I knew what was going through his mind when he took me—I wished that I could've been awake, to talk him out of it, to fight him against every step he took.

The railing along the wall was cool to the touch, as if it had been frozen and was now attempting to thaw. I could feel my lungs cringe as I held my breath, each step up the staircase slow as my heart thumped achingly in my chest. I didn't understand why everything felt so acute, like a tip of a blade grazing the surface of my skin, about to pierce through.

When I came to the level that my bedroom was on, I stopped. Dead. On the top of the stair, my feet stopped moving as if they'd forgotten how to proceed. The door was flung wide open, as if the person who'd came through it last had let it slip their mind to shut it behind them. Him, carrying me, no free hands to close the door—

I sucked in a shallow breath, and my heart strings notched tighter. Feel, I wanted to scream at myself. Let the tears out before they drown you from within.

Only tears could drown me from the outside, too.

This room, simple as it may have seened, had housed me the entirety of my stay at Gossington, had been more personal to me than my bedroom at the palace. From my vanity mirror to my small window, this was the room that gave me the feeling of safety. When I laid my head down on that pillow, I wasn't going to be awoken by someone slamming through my door, by an angry voice in my ear. This was my haven, and now the idea of stepping closer made me feel sick.

In this hallway, it always felt like someone was watching my movements. Right now, though, it felt like I was really and truly alone, a moment caught in time that seemed to drag on forever. Hesitantly, I took a step closer to the threshold, peeking my head through the open door.

The white sheets were rumpled on the bed's surface, half hanging off and dragging onto the floor. As if I were watching a clip of my life played before me, I could practically see my sleeping figure in this bed, with broad, tanned arms wrapped protectively around me. It was funny, how recent he'd begun to hold me like that, and now he never would again.

The pain that was rising in my chest suddenly came to a crescendo as I stared at the furniture, and no amount of pushing would keep the emotions down. Vaguely, I could hear a sharp gasp crack from my chest,  his voice was louder, an echo in my ears, as if he were right behind me, whispering: I love you, I love you, so much. Thank you, I love you.

There was a skeleton key unlocking the pain inside me, turning over the bolts and stays that kept it at bay. I had been waiting for a body to mourn, needing something other than his ashes to prove to me what my brain already knew. I had thought that I was never going to get a body to mourn, but here it was.

Gossington, empty and lifeless, was the corpse.

Kaius, Kaius, Kaius--dead, dead, he was dead.