Crimson Lace

Chapter 1

ELLE
CHAPTER ONE

People say that colorful red clouds are an artwork, but I think it's just the sun's way of bleeding.

The neon sunset shines brightly through the drapes that dress the grand windows. The light brightens the red petals of the rose corsage given to me by the king. I want to rip it off my wrist. Bury it, scorch it until it's reduced to nothing but ash. It just shows that I belong to him. I pluck a few petals off, one by one until the flower is as bare as the king is cruel.

I wait to be escorted out to the terrace. Not attending this gathering would be ideal, but I am to make an appearance.

The dinner is more of a formality, something to keep our mouths busy and stomach's full. Either way, I am excited for the food and the food alone.

"You understand your role for tonight, correct?" Carlyle asks again.

I don't even give him so much as a glimpse of my attention. I don't know why he seems to think it's inevitable that I'll screw this up. The role I play is well known to me. I have been playing that role since I was an infant, and I don't actually need the rundown to be told again in further, boring details.

Carlyle sighs exaggeratingly, before exiting in a rather dramatic, tantrum like manner. He doesn't like to be ignored, so I use my silence as a way to coax him into leaving me alone.

"Fine, but don't think I won't say 'I told you so' if you happen to get into trouble again," he grumbles.

I couldn't care less about trouble, and I am glad to be left alone so that I may ponder my thoughts in silence.

"Go trim your nose hairs, Carlyle," I mumble under my breath.

"Excuse me?" He pokes his head back around the corner. I don't turn to face him.

"I said that I like your hair." I can almost feel his glower burning holes through my back, but don't pay him any more attention.

He is very fond of his hair. I think it makes him look like a silky mop, whereas he prefers the term sophisticated. He doesn't argue further, and exits with a scoff.

I wait, staring ahead through the drapes at the luminous horizon. Waiting isn't bothersome to me. I have been waiting my whole life. Although, I'm not really sure what for, but I will continue to wait until whatever it is finds me.

I would rather stay here than see His Royal Highness's son, Prince Alec. Our split mangled my heart, leaving me broken and scrambling to pick up the pieces. Seeing him tonight will only shatter my heart further, and I have worked so hard to piece myself back together.

I trace the ID branded scar on my wrist with my thumb. It's rigid texture and number are a firm reminder of what I am, of who I am. E2456N21W05, I repeat my number in my head. It is one of the only constants in this world. My number never changes. My identity never changes. I will always be a flee in a crowd of wolves.

"Excuse my interruption M'lady, but dinner awaits you. Shall I escort you forthwith to the terrace?" A charming tone from a charming boy. It's relieving to hear a familiar voice.

Gracefully, I turn around to find Wesley leaning on the marble entryway to the hall. A slight smile crosses my face as I take in the sight of him. His thick black hair falls neatly around his head. He looks quite different from the last time I saw him, appearing to have grown a few inches and finally showing a broader physique belonging to that of an adult, not a child.

"What happened to the scrawny, string bean of a boy that I grew up with?" I tease.

He takes a playful step forward. "I suppose the war brought out the man in me." His response is meant to be funny, but I don't see the humor in it.