Until Death Do Us Part

Chapter 6: Portrait of a Woman

My eyes adjust to the eerily lit room, and once I realize what I'm staring at, my hand flies up to my mouth in horror. Alarm bells ring and course through my body as my other hand slowly releases the door.

Portraits, Paintings, sketches of a woman are hung and strewn all over the room. Close up images that look ancient. My eyes settle on the largest portrait, where rows of colorful, bright tulips are freshly growing, they floret finely and are neatly planted behind the same, stunning woman. Her hair is curled sensually passing her hips, and she poses serenely in a field of tulips with a flower stuck behind her ear and a cheeky, dimpled, smile.

Something makes me stop dead in my tracks.
My eyes widen, as recognition smacks me and I don't even realize I've jolted myself five steps closer to the painting. I am so close I can see the strokes of the brush with which they painted this vividly. This is a painting of me. A pink blush is on my face and my green eyes look like dark, rich emerald with bright flecks of hazel. Whatever I'm staring at, it looks like I am charmed entirely. Yet, there's one thing.

My skin. Oh god. My skin is as translucent as paper. On gobsmack in the center of the painting, is my fangs. Fangs. Vampire fangs. This is not possible.
My heart races and sweat beads form on my dark brows. I am staring intently now at all of the portraits.

There are fangs in all of them. There is another of me sitting in a stool, over looking a cottage window, at a pristine blue river. The field of tulips are remarkably visible in pink and purple splatters in the far distance in a mesmerizing array of color. The image is so unsettlingly real, I feel as I can smell the rich scent of oak wood and pine from the table, and hear the light creak of the stool I am seated in. I sense as if I can practically feel the warm, gentle breeze caress me, and tug at the loose ends of baby hair that frame my face. She- that she is seated in. That can't be me. I correct myself, but my mind continues to dissect the image, and it feels as though I can hardly process what I am seeing. My posture is dream-like, I appear forlorn. My baby hairs. Even the baby hairs are the same.

A smaller portrait, of just my eyes, and an orange sunset luminate my cascading raven hair behind me. I look dreamy, flushed, yet there is a sharpness to my eyes. I look like a porcelain doll, perfectly etched into the painting. I feel a million questions coursing through my head. My blood feels hot yet I feel cold, claustrophobic and I suddenly feel like I can't breathe. My chest tightens. There's dozens of portraits everywhere. Small handheld portraits in intricate frames, large ones, different poses different angles of me. Me. Me everywhere. With fangs. Calm down Jayne.

This can't possibly be true- yet here I am. Inside the palace. Yet, I was chosen out of all the candidates. And I start contemplating about the things Ive seen in just my short time here. My mind flashes to the girl from the first day, the woman in chains. Yet that woman in the room in the first day was his sister. I couldn't believe that then. And now, it can't possibly be true that these portraits are me. Yet.... here I am, in this cold, creepy, old room staring at mementos, and portraits of my face. I need to get out of here immediately. I'm only in the room for about ten minutes when I hear a clattering of plates, quick footsteps and a clipped tone.

"Armina! Be sure to dust, and wipe down ever vase that you see, I want every crack, crease and floor scrubbed to the bone. And one of you,  tell Preston that he did NOT report to me that the light switch to elevator B1 was not functioning in front of  Harvey Arringson leader from Province Reddnorthington, and his son. Preston will pay penance for it by not feeding tonight."  My ears strain to hear two voices simultaneously reply quickly,"Yes madam Claire."

The steps proceed closer and closer. I shut my eyes and prepare for them to open this door, and I jump startled at the tone. "And for Christ sake! Victoria! cleanliness is close to godliness. Change into a clean everyday dress. We must remain presentable for the guests tonight. Now go. Quickly. I expect nothing but perfection. If my standards are not met, expect to suffer the same fate as Preston."  Then the clatter of heels depart and I hear two collective sighs.

"Oh my, Victoria I thought she'd have your neck wrung for your dress! We must clean it now." The steps continue until they reach just outside my door, and the voices become more distinct and discernible.

"Armina, you know if it wasn't for Dimitri's devilish Brother Michael deciding to host another of his famous parties for the province sons, Madam Claire would be sipping wines and possibly giving the province ruler Harvey a slobbery, smacking kiss. " I hear a haughty, girlish giggle as she continues ,"She's just upset that Harvey will not end things with his wife."  Victoria declares unapologetically with a humph.

My mind recollects Harvey Arringson as the ruler of one of the largest Coal Provinces in our Northern region, his son is here? There's a party today? Then I discern that they are conversing about a possible affair between a province ruler and a maid at the palace. I hear a gasp and a concerned tone, this time much closer ,"Victoria! You best keep your tongue in your mouth. You will receive more than lashes for speaking like that. " Armina proclaims.

My feet shuffle and creak as I realize my predicament. "Wait, do you smell that?" Armina tentatively says, her voice lilting into a squeak at the end. Then I hear collective sniffling. "It's a human." says the soft voice , that registers to me as coming from Victoria.
"But that can't be- unless.." Armina begins. I can practically feel their eyes burning holes through the door. Please, please don't open the door. I am holding my breath, when suddenly a loud clacking of heels comes back from the end of the hallway

,"Victoria, you insolent, halfwitted girl. How much of my time must be wasted telling you the simplest of things! Now." Madam Claire hisses the last word and it sends goosebumps shooting through my body. I jump at the sudden interjection, and quickly cross my hand over my heart in relief.

I hear the two girls collectively take a sharp intake of breath and quickly scurry away muttering "Immediately Madam Claire," which sounded like it came from Victoria and "Yes, Madam Claire." Which sounded like it came from Armina.

I let out a breath of air, and peer once more at all the portraits. Then I decide to grab a small handheld portrait and stick it into the front belt of my dress. In the portrait I am clutching a bouquet of tulip flowers and I am poised in front of the same cottage window.

Light and dark shades of a lilac colored curtain detail  and compliment the texture of the bouquet, and contrast my pale skin. Sunlight streams through in a golden array of sunshine.

I make my exit hasty, and feel gratitude for being saved by Madam Claire. I must be more careful now.

I had only entered the room through sheer curiosity but now I have lingering feelings that I am being kept from the truth.

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Sidenote
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For the next chapter I'm only requesting 5 votes just so I can be sure people are enjoying my craft! 🌼 It'd mean a lot 👉🏻👈🏻🥺}