Beautiful Curse

Chapter Fifteen

My days in the castle passed quickly. I worked in the greenhouse with Sean and studied the books Ms. A had given me during the days, and each night I met Ross for another dark dinner. The picnic on the roof was just the first of our excursions. One night he surprised me by having a table spread in the beautiful mirrored room. The moon was just a silver crescent in the sky, but even that light was reflected in the mirrored chamber, filling the room with a strange blue glow.

I kept my promise, though it was difficult. I always shut my eyes when we kissed, even in the mirrored room where I was sure that if I snuck a peak I'd be able to see his face. For whatever reason, he didn't want me to see him, and I'd promised. Besides, it wasn't like I needed my eyes to know that he was an amazing kisser.

When I'd been at the castle a week, the butler voice led me once more to the strange library, where Ms. A was waiting.

"What kind of spirit are you?" I asked immediately.

Ms. A grimaced. "It's nice to see you, too."

I blushed. "I'm sorry. I've just got so many questions!"

Two plush chairs appeared out of thin air, and Ms. A gestured to them. "If you have questions, perhaps we should sit down."

I watched the teacher lower herself into her chair as if it were a throne, and I remembered the bizarre vision I'd had in the bathtub. "Who are you?"

"That's not a question I can answer yet. If you have a guess, I can tell you if you're right or not."

"A witch?"

Ms. A laughed. "Not in the sense you mean."

I tried again. "A fairy?"

The older woman shook her head. "All out of ideas?"

I bit my lip, thinking. "Can I ask again next week?"

There was a moment's hesitation, but then Ms. A nodded. "What else did you want to ask me?"

"Can you tell me what Ross is?"

"He is master of this place."

Exasperated, I glared at her. "I know that. I mean, what is he, really?"

"Have you been doing your homework?" Ms. A asked sharply.

"It's slow reading, but I've been trying."

The teacher tapped her chin three times with her long index finger. "You may find the answers you seek in those pages. But until you know what you're looking for, I can't help you find it."

The rest of the morning we talked about the hero's journey in terms of The Odyssey, something I had been dreading. Odysseus annoyed me, but Ms. A seemed enamored with the character.

"But he's such a jerk! His poor wife is at home fighting off suitors, and he's running around with other women."

Ms. A's eyes glittered. "But the story isn't about Penelope. Her trials don't matter."

I frowned. I really didn't want to argue, so I dropped it, but privately, I continued to dislike the hero.

By the time Ms. A left, I was completely exhausted. I had more reading to do in the next week, and Ms. A had added a collection of poetry to the list of classics.

"The Romantics knew a thing or two about the epic themes of life, just like the ancients. Make sure you read the poem "Ulysses," and when I come next week, we can compare that to The Odyssey."

I stood up awkwardly. "Thanks for coming all the way out here. Did you check on my folks?"

Ms. A nodded. "Your father is doing all right. He's still going out at night, but he's started walking there, which I think was a wise choice."