Unsinkable

Dreamland

Dreamy whispers of light sparkled down upon Winter's face, lulling her out of that haven called sleep and back into the world of the living. In her mind's eye she was dancing about like a flame flickering in the dark, her hand in the hand of a man that she loved as she spun about in a flurry of pink and silver birds.

But when her lashes fluttered away from her cheeks, she was in her room, laying under white covers, all alone. There was a crystal chandelier above her head, and fine wallpaper and paintings upon the wall, but that did nothing to console the aching that lived within her. She was a girl who had no one to love her— she was a girl who would forever remain alone.

The night before felt like a dream— the kind she wished to never wake from. It felt like a whole other world, yet she had been there, dancing through the night. Never before had she danced so long and strangely, but those stolen moments with Jacin were more romantic than any other she had ever experienced before. Because no matter what jewels or fancy dresses Aimery bought her, or the compliments he applied to her beauty, he could never replicate the emotions that Jacin possessed. No amount of money could give Aimery the ability to feel.

Winter shut her eyes once more, allowing herself to forget Aimery for a moment and guiltily revel in the idea of Jacin. From the time that Winter had been a young girl, she'd fantasized about the idea of love at first sight. Her father had always claimed that he'd fallen for Winter's mother the moment their eyes met, and Winter had wanted that— the sort of love that was instant and unforgettable.

With Aimery, there had been no chance of that. She hadn't loved him first glance, or second glance, or any of the glances that had taken place after years of knowing one another. Not one inch of Winter Hayle loved Aimery Park, and she knew that would never change.

But Jacin was a different story. She wouldn't say that she had fallen in love with him from the moment she first saw him— she'd been preparing to jump down into an endless sea, so it was understandable— but there was something about him that called to her. She couldn't tell if she was in love with him, for never before had she fallen in love; all she knew was that her heart did not fear him.

A knock sounded upon Winter's door, and she braced herself for her stepmother to barge in, demanding where she had been the night before.

Not a moment later, Levana Blackburn— for Winter could not think of her as Levana Hayle— charged into the room, her dark auburn hair draped over one shoulder. It was amazing how much hair dye could change the looks of a person; well, that and an abundance of cosmetics. Winter had seen photographs of her stepmother from long ago, and knew that once she had looked like her sister, and therefore her niece, but now her face resembled theirs about as much as Winter's did. Even in all of Channary's illustriousness, her face always looked to be her own, with little beautifications highlighting what she already had. Levana somehow seemed to think that any face that was not truly her own was the most beautiful.

Winter drew herself up from her bed, pulling the white covers of her bed up around her to hide the fact that she had fallen asleep in the clothes she had worn the night before. When she had made it back to her room, she'd been too exhausted and giddy to take it off, wanting for the night to never end; she regretted that decision now.

"Winter," Levana snapped her name and Winter flinched. If Channary had been the one to wake Winter, she would have sighed dramatically, saying Winter's name with a hint of annoyance. But Levana was not her sister. She did not get annoyed— she got angry.

Levana stormed to Winter's bed, wrenching the covers off her step-daughter and dragging her by the wrist out of bed. She either didn't notice or care that Winter was still dressed in her clothes from the night before, because she made no mention of it other than to tear down the zipper and shove Winter into her dressing room. Winter let out a small hiss as her elbow knocked into the wall, but she sounded no words of protest.