Page 10
Madison
Dawn filtered through the heavy curtains of Hugh's chamber… of our shared chamber, painting golden stripes across the mahogany floorboards.
I stirred against the warmth of his chest, breathing in the intoxicating scent of cedar and winter air that clung to his skin.
My body still hummed with the memory of our night together after the groundsmen had freed us from the library. The way Hugh had worshipped every inch of my body with reverent touches, the whispers of love he'd pressed against my throat between kisses that left me breathless and begging for more.
His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer against the solid heat of him.
Even in sleep, he’d trailed his fingers in patterns across the bare skin of my shoulder, sending shivers racing down my spine.
The ring on my finger pulsed cold against his warm flesh, a stark reminder that our newfound happiness existed alongside the curse that threatened to tear us apart.
I pressed my lips to the hollow of his throat, before settling back into the cocoon of his embrace.
Relaxed and sated, sleep reclaimed me with surprising ease.
But peace proved fleeting…
The vision struck without warning, dragging me from contentment into a world painted in shades of crimson and shadow.
I stood in the very chamber where Hugh and I now lay, but the walls wept blood that pooled on ancient stones.
Eleanor knelt before the fireplace, her hair matted with gore, while Hugh loomed above her, his hands stained scarlet.
“Please,”
she whispered, her voice breaking on the word.
“I love you.
I've always loved you.”
Hugh's laugh was cold, devoid of any of the warmth I'd heard in his voice.
“Love? You call your pathetic clinging love?”
His fingers closed around her throat.
“You mean nothing to me.”
Eleanor's eyes widened with terror and betrayal.
“Hugh, please.
The baby—”
“There is no baby.”
His grip tightened until her words became strangled gasps.
“There never was.
Only your delusions and my growing disgust.”
I tried to scream, to move, to do anything to stop the horror unfolding before me.
But I remained frozen, forced to watch as Eleanor's struggles grew weaker, and as the light faded from her terrified gaze.
He’ll kill you.
Just as he killed her.
The vision shattered like glass, leaving me gasping and clawing at the bedsheets.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, and my heart thundered.
Hugh's arm still encircled my waist. His breaths were measured and deep with sleep, but the contrast between the tender man beside me and the monster from my dream left me reeling.
Not a dream, I realised with growing dread.
A vision.
Sent by the curse to poison my thoughts against him.
The realisation should have brought comfort, but another image crashed over me before I could steady myself.
This time I watched Hugh standing over my own prone form, his hands dripping with my blood while he smiled with satisfied cruelty.
“Too trusting,”
he murmured to my corpse.
“Too willing to believe in fairy tales.”
My stomach lurched.
I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.
The visions felt so real, so vivid. I tasted the metallic tang of blood on my tongue and felt the phantom pain of a dagger plunged through my heart.
But as the terror receded, I noticed the edges of the vision blurring.
They became less distinct.
There was a quality to the emotions in these scenes that felt... wrong. Artificial.
I closed my eyes and reached deeper, calling on my abilities.
I could read people's emotions through their carefully constructed facades.
I knew how they felt… how they worked. The emotions in the visions were too sharp. It was as if they’d been crafted to inspire fear. Real emotions possess texture, nuance… contradictions. These felt hollow, like echoes of feelings rather than the feelings themselves.
Hugh stirred beside me.
I watched his face in the growing light and noted the peaceful expression that softened his strong features.
His lips curved in the barest suggestion of a smile, and warmth radiated from him in waves.
This was real.
This was true.
Not the manufactured horrors the curse fed into my mind.
“Madison?”
His voice carried the rough texture of sleep, intimate and warm.
“What’s wrong? You feel tense.”
“A nightmare,”
I said, though the word felt inadequate for what I'd experienced.
“The curse grows stronger.”
Hugh's eyes sharpened and he sat up in bed, immediately alert.
“What did you see?”
he asked as he shifted to face me and cupped his hand to my cheek.
“You.”
The word emerged as barely a whisper.
“Killing Eleanor.
Killing me.”
I shook my head.
“But Hugh… I could sense the falseness in it.
The emotions were wrong. They were hollow.”
He traced his thumb across my cheekbone and over my bottom lip.
“You're learning to see through the deception.”
“I think so.”
I caught his hand and pressed it more firmly against my face, drawing strength from the solid reality of his touch.
“The curse wants us to doubt each other, to let fear poison what we've found.
But I won't let it succeed.”
Despite the lingering shadows of the vision, Hugh's eyes darkened with desire.
“What did I ever do to deserve you, my brave, brilliant wife.”
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my lips.
I kissed him, pouring all my love and determination into the connection between our lips.
He responded with hungry intensity, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer.
The taste of him banished the last traces of the vision's poison.
“I need to understand more about Ravina,”
I said, my voice husky from our kiss when we finally broke apart.
“About how the curse was created.
There must be clues in Charlotte's account that I missed.”
“We should study it together.
But first…”
His hand roamed lower, trailing a path up my inner thigh.
“I want to remind you of what's real.
What's true between us.”
I melted into his embrace, ready to lose myself.
But before our lips could meet again, a sharp knock echoed through the chamber, making me jump for the bed and straighten my nightgown.
“Lord Trent!”
Olivia's voice carried unusual urgency.
“Lady Elizabeth Walker has arrived.
She insists on seeing Lady Madison immediately.”
My blood chilled.
Aunt Elizabeth's unexpected arrival could only mean trouble.
I cursed the letter I’d sent her after my encounter with Hugh in the conservatory. At the time, I’d been filled with confused emotions. I'd mentioned the strange voices, the unsettling atmosphere of the manor, my fears about following in Eleanor's footsteps. At the time, writing had felt like a lifeline. Now I realised how my words might have sounded to someone unaware of the supernatural forces at work.
“I'll speak with her,”
Hugh said, already moving to rise from the bed.
“No.
She came for me.
I need to face this.”
We dressed quickly.
Hugh's jaw tightened as he fastened his waistcoat, and I felt waves of protective anger radiating from him.
The shadows stirred restlessly in response to his emotions, darker and more agitated than usual.
“I know she blames me for what happened to Eleanor,”
he said, his voice carefully controlled.
“Everyone does.
She'll try to convince you to leave.”
“Then I'll convince her otherwise.”
I smoothed my skirts and checked my reflection in the mirror, ensuring I looked composed despite the turmoil in my chest.
“I won't let her take me from you.”
Hugh's expression softened, and he crossed to me in three quick strides.
His hands framed my face as he kissed me.
“I won’t let anyone take you from me. I love you. Remember that, no matter what she says.”
“I love you too.
Nothing will change that.”
But even as I spoke the words, doubt crept through my mind like poison in a well.
Not doubt about my feelings for Hugh, but fear about what my aunt might reveal.
What if there were aspects of Eleanor's death I didn't know? What if Hugh's control wasn't as absolute as I believed?
He’s hiding the truth of what happened.
I shook my head sharply, recognising the curse's whispers for what they were.
But the seeds of uncertainty had been planted.
It was hard not to let them take root despite my best efforts to remain strong.
We made our way through the corridors to the morning room, where Aunt Elizabeth waited.
She paced before the windows like a caged predator, her grey travelling dress wrinkled from the journey and her usually perfect coiffure showing signs of haste.
When she saw us enter, relief and accusation warred across her sharp features.
“Madison.”
She crossed to me immediately and gripped my shoulders as she searched my face.
“Thank heaven you're unharmed.
When I received your letter...”
She trailed off, her gaze shifting to Hugh with unconcealed hatred.
“Aunt Elizabeth.”
I managed a smile despite the growing tension in the room.
“I wasn't expecting you so soon.”
“Your letter spoke of voices, of feeling watched and threatened.
Of course I came immediately.”
Her grip tightened on my shoulders.
“My dear, you look pale.
Thinner than when I left you.”
“I'm perfectly well,”
I insisted, though her words sent a chill through me.
Did I truly look so changed? “The adjustment to married life has been...
intense, but I'm happy.”
Elizabeth's laugh held no humour.
“Happy? Child, your letter read like the ravings of someone on the brink of madness.
Just as poor Eleanor's must have.”
The name hung heavy in the air between us.
Hugh went rigid beside me, and I felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees as shadows gathered at his feet.
“You speak as though you knew her,”
I said carefully, watching my aunt's expression.
“I knew of her fate.
The entire court does.”
Elizabeth's voice carried the weight of long-held concerns.
“A young woman, barely twenty, who went from a vibrant social butterfly to a reclusive wretch within months of marriage.
The whispers spoke of madness, of a husband who showed no patience for his wife's declining state.”
“Court gossip is rarely accurate,”
Hugh said, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Gossip, perhaps.
But consistent enough to cause alarm.”
Elizabeth stepped protectively in front of me.
“They said she claimed to hear voices, to see things that weren't there.
She begged visitors for help and spoke of feeling trapped and being watched. Does that sound familiar, Madison?”
My heart clenched at the parallels she drew, but I forced myself to remain steady.
“There are explanations for what Eleanor experienced.
What I'm experiencing.”
“Are there? Or has he convinced you to accept his version of reality, just as he must have done with her?”
Elizabeth's voice gentled as she turned back to me.
“My dear, I've watched too many women disappear into marriages that consumed them.
I won't let it happen to you. You must come away with me. Now, before it's too late. I should never have allowed your father to agree to this union.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
The words emerged stronger than I felt.
“Hugh isn't responsible for what happened to Eleanor.
We're both victims of forces beyond our control.”
“Forces?”
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“What forces could possibly—”
“A curse.”
I lifted my left hand, displaying the ring that had grown heavier with each passing day.
“Ancient magic designed to corrupt love, to turn it into an instrument of destruction.
Hugh and I are fighting it together.”
The silence that followed my declaration stretched as taut as a wire.
Elizabeth stared at me with the expression of someone watching a loved one succumb to fever dreams, while Hugh remained statue-still beside me.
“A curse,”
Elizabeth repeated slowly.
“Madison… Please, listen to yourself.
You're speaking of fairy tales, of impossible—”
“Nothing about this is impossible.”
I pulled away from her restraining hands, moved to Hugh's side, and drew comfort from his solid presence.
“I've witnessed magic with my own eyes.
I've felt it flowing through my veins. You, of all people, should know how real it is.”
“He's poisoned your mind,”
Elizabeth said, her face losing what little colour remained.
“Just as he did Eleanor's.
My dear girl, this is how madness begins. With elaborate explanations for inexplicable events, with seeing supernatural causes behind natural phenomena.”
Hugh's control finally snapped.
The shadows erupted from their corners.
The temperature plummeted. Frost formed on the windows as darkness coiled around him.
“Enough.”
His voice carried the weight of winter storms.
“You know nothing of what Eleanor suffered.
Nothing of what Madison and I face. Your ignorance doesn't grant you the right to poison her mind against me.”
Elizabeth stumbled backward, her eyes wide with terror as she watched the shadows dance at Hugh's command.
But her fear quickly transformed into grim satisfaction, as if he'd proven her point beyond doubt.
“There,”
she said.
“Do you see, Madison? The violence barely leashed beneath his civilised fa?ade.
This is what Eleanor lived with. This is what drove her to take her own life.”
I watched the fight drain out of Hugh.
Doubt crept into his expression, and the shadows wavered.
“Perhaps...”
he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Perhaps she's right.
Perhaps there is no curse, and I am the monster you should fear.”
“No.”
I stepped between them, facing my aunt with all the authority I could muster.
“You're wrong about him.
About everything. Hugh would never hurt me.”
“Look at him, Madison.”
Elizabeth gestured toward Hugh.
He held his head in his hand as shadows writhed chaotically around the room.
“Look at what he becomes when challenged. Is this the behaviour of a rational man? A safe man?”
I did look at Hugh, really looked.
Beneath the supernatural darkness, beneath the barely controlled power, I saw his true emotions.
Fear. Self-loathing. But there was also love for me, warring with the fear that he might be the danger everyone claimed.
The shadows weren't expressions of violence or cruelty.
They were manifestations of a man afraid of his own nature, afraid of becoming the monster others expected him to be.
“He’s not dangerous,”
I said, but as the words left my mouth, Hugh’s eyes rolled backwards, and he collapsed on the floor in a swirling mass of darkness as the shadows rushed to claim him.