Page 8 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens (The Crimson Duet #1)

A Deal is a Deal

T ime crawled by. Florence came, brought the disgusting drink, and left. She spoke less to me as the days passed, but her overbearing glee held strong nevertheless.

Eventually I’d stopped throwing the goblets against the wall.

Was this my eternity now? Awaking in darkness, drinking crimson liquid, losing my sanity.

Eternity . I had an eternity, and no purpose.

The knock on the door distracted me from my own misery. Florence. She was the only one who came to visit me. I hadn’t seen Francis since he’d dragged me back to this nightmare; it wasn’t as though I wanted to see the arrogant man anyway. He did this to me.

“Cordelia? Are you awake?” Florence whispered, making it through the room. She left the door open—the only source of light in this darkness.

“Yes,” I replied, surprised hearing my own voice.

It was the first word I’d said to her in weeks and it made her grin. How could one be so happy all the time? Smiling so much... She smiled more in a day than I had in my entire life.

“There is a ball happening tonight, but of course you don’t have to attend,” she said after a long pause, clearly being taken off guard that I’d finally replied.

“Aye, she does,” a voice came from the doorway. I turned my head towards the sound as a chill of fear ran down my spine. Francis stood there, with a smirk on his face, looking amused as always. My pulse quickened at the mere sight of him.

“Leave her be, Francis!” Florence sidestepped to hide me from his view. “She needs rest.”

“And she’s had plenty,” Francis countered. “She can’t stay in this room forever. It’s been months, for god’s sake.”

“She shall stay for as long as she wishes,” Florence hissed in reply.

Months? How many exactly? I’d lost any track of time. Had it really been that long? Months. Oh Gods, it could not be. My family had not found me. Were they even looking for me? Of course they were, Cordelia. Don’t be foolish.

Not that I could have gone back—I could never go back—it was not safe for them nor was it safe for me.

I can’t go back.

If I did, they would kill me immediately: I was now a threat to humans; and if they wouldn’t, I might act on my instincts and take someone’s life myself. The thought of hurting the twins, hurting Sandra or Mories, turned my stomach upside down: yet I still had hope of seeing them again.

Perhaps, I’d lost all ability to control my emotions, jumping from one to another in mere seconds. As Francis grinned down on me, I knew the horror I felt was shown on my face.

“I will do as I wish,” I argued. I’d had enough of people deciding for me. I would not let Francis dictate me as well. I was not ready to leave this room, and perhaps I never would.

“The princess found her claws! Finally! I wondered how much time you were going to spend weeping.” He smirked at me and I had a sudden urge to throw another candelabra at his head.

“All the same, you are going to attend.” The man shrugged.

“I would suggest changing, though.” He pointed at me, wrinkling his nose as if smelling spoiled milk.

Only then I realized I was still in my nightgown covered in blood and dirt. My arms instinctively wrapped the covers around my body trying to hide my exposed skin—I was practically naked.

Francis snickered, finding my reaction amusing when he turned to leave.

“Don’t listen to him.” Florence took my hand in hers. “He’s a fool!” she proclaimed towards the ajar doorway. Her hands were cold as ice, but the gesture was still comforting despite me refusing to admit it.

“I heard that!” Francis shouted from the hallway.

The ball. The last two balls I’d attended didn’t turn out the way I had wished. Perhaps, I should never attend another.

“Here,” Florence passed me a goblet of blood. “You should have some.”

I glanced at the glass in disgust, but still took it. As much as I hated my new state, I didn’t ever want to experience pain like that again. If I ever did, I might as well set myself on fire—the only way to kill a vampire for good.

Without thinking of the taste and texture of the drink, trying to get it over with as fast as I could, I emptied the glass in a single gulp. I passed the glass back to Florence, cringing at my own actions when a knock on the door distracted me from any unwelcome thoughts.

“Your Highness,” the sound of his voice covered my skin in goosebumps. Francis bowed at the threshold.

The words he addressed me with made my blood boil; my hands balled into fists. My eyes narrowed in anticipation for whatever nonsense he was about to drop.

Francis held out his hands offering me a velvet dress I had no intention to wear. “I brought you something for our small gathering tonight. I hope you won’t be too disappointed, since our balls could never hold a candle to a royal event,” he smirked. Would this man ever stop smirking?

“I'm not going,” I replied, dismissing him.

“If you won’t come voluntarily, I wouldn’t mind dragging you down there myself,” he replied calmly.

My jaw dropped at his audacity. “I dare you.” The disturbing urge to set him on fire truly worried me. I’d never wished anyone harm, but it wouldn’t have gone past me if the opportunity arose.

“I guess it’s a deal.” Francis walked towards the bed, carefully putting the dress on top. “ Highness ,” the man bowed at me once again before taking his leave.

I faced Florence who held an odd expression on her face that I could not make sense of. She quickly masked it, putting on her bright smile. “I have some errands to run, you are more than welcome to join.” Her eyes lightened.

“I would prefer staying here.” Perhaps I would never leave this room: now that I truly had nowhere else to go, nowhere to be.

Florence nodded in understanding. “I will see you later then.” She shrugged, sending me a smile of sunshine.

I returned the nod, getting comfortable on the bed—the only place that felt safe as of recently.

Waking up from an unsettling feeling of someone watching me, I gasped as a dark silhouette stood above me.

“I am here to deliver you to the ball as promised, Your Highness.” Francis’ accent broke through the darkness.

“Leave this room immediately!” I hissed at him, covering myself with a blanket—not that he hadn’t seen my nightgown already.

Francis sighed, pure annoyance written on his face as he took a step towards me, effortlessly picking me up from the bed. I had no time to react.

“You wouldn’t dare!” I pushed him away, trying to free myself. “Put me down right this moment!”

“A deal is a deal.” He shrugged, crossing the room in mere seconds. He walked as though I weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

I kicked and punched, yet it didn't seem to hurt him at all. “Put me down!” I shouted again, but all my efforts were in vain. The amount of arrogance this man had in his possession was ridiculous.

Francis didn’t acknowledge my demands as we left the room, even after my attempt at grabbing onto the door frame.

All the insults I came up with in the last few months flew out of my mouth, yet he didn’t bother sparing me a glance: reigniting the urge to set him on fire.

Music in the hall grew louder with each step. The laughter and orchestra playing impregnated the stone walls: we must have been close.

This was humiliating! Perhaps, that had been his plan all along: to humiliate me in a room full of strangers while covered in dirt head to toe. He must have been jesting. He wouldn’t have dared! Would he have?

“Fine! Fine!” I surrendered. That seemed to catch his attention as he slowly put me down, still not letting me out of his grasp; his eyebrows shot upwards. “Fine!” I hissed at him again. “I will go! Just let me change.”

Francis gave me a half smile clearly feeling triumphant. A long sigh accompanied my defeat. Surrender left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Don’t take long, or we will be forced to repeat our fun adventure.” Francis smirked as I slammed the door in front of his nose.

Groaning, I made my way to the bathing chambers attached to the room.

Who did he think he was? Why was he so adamant over my attendance? He had already ruined my life. Was that not enough? Clearly not. But what choice did I have?

Even if I managed to lock myself in this room I was confident he would still find a way to drag me to the ball as I was.

He seemed just as stubborn as me, but I was not about to show up barely dressed just to win an argument.

I was a princess after all. Or at least I used to be.

Still! Just because these people knew no manners, didn’t mean I could forget my own.

Undoing my old braid, I glanced at the mirror in front of me preparing for the worst. A gasp escaped my lips: I looked.

.. beautiful. Covered in dirt, of course, but still beautiful.

It had been a while since I looked this healthy.

How was this possible? I looked alive. Ironically, more alive than when I—well—was actually alive.

My fingers traced down my face as I studied the person in the reflection.

Still the same features but sharper or softer I was not quite sure. My eyes reflected the light from the candle, shining so bright. Inhumanly bright. My lips were as crimson as blood. Because it was indeed blood on my lips, I quickly realized.

Not wishing to look at it for longer than I had to, I quickly wiped my lips with the back of my hand. A constant reminder of my new being.

Disgusting. I turned to the bath and let the water run.

After the bath that—conveniently—took a while. I stared at the dress still displayed on my bed. The dress was gorgeous: bright red, with some gold appliqués running down the skirt.

The dress reminded me of autumn... and blood. Hating that Francis had brought it for me, I sat on the bed contemplating my options.

I didn’t need anything from him. He and his constant smirk disgusted me to my core. Although, I didn’t seem to have much of a choice: it was either his dress or my old nightgown.

My hands stretched out toward the nightgown, brushing over the familiar fabric. Dried blood painted the gown dark—almost black—red. Small cuts covered every inch of the material rendering the gown unwearable. Francis’ dress it was.

The dress sat perfectly on my skin as if it had been made by my measurements. I refused to think how Francis had known my size.

Putting my hair in a simple braid, I tied it around itself in a low bun. The action immediately calmed my breathing. Even being alone in a room with my hair down was unbearable.

A loud knock made me jolt in place. “Are you trying to flood the castle there, Princess?” The smirk in Francis’ voice was unmistakable.

Rolling my eyes, I slowly made my way back to the mirror: just a quick glance. The dress was even more gorgeous than before, embracing my light skin and dark features.

Staring at my smooth skin, my eyes widened. The small scar on my cheek had disappeared. It had been there ever since I was little, it became a part of me. If that scar had disappeared perhaps—

My trembling hands moved the fabric from my chest as disappointment washed over me. No. The scar Timothy had left me was still in its place. The memory of the knife flashed through my mind, making me shudder.

The knock on the door distracted me from my disarray. “Princess! My patience is running out. If you don’t come out in a minute I will be forced to—” I didn’t let him finish the sentence as I swung the door open. “You look—” Francis trailed off.

“Let’s be on our way.” I cut him off, annoyed. Annoyed at him, at myself, at this stupid ball. Annoyance and anger were my new companions.

“Of course,” Francis said without the arrogance I’d grown accustomed to.

I started towards the music, not wishing to look at him for a second longer.

I was not eager to attend the ball, although there was a small part of me that was curious to see what all the fuss was about.

Or maybe it was the isolation I’d lived in the last couple of months.

Either way, I was never going to admit I wanted company, even to myself.

We made our way through the labyrinth of endless hallways until I could finally recognize the music that was being played. It was a waltz. One of my favorites, actually.

I remembered learning it on my violin a few years back. I remembered my tutor, Master Waldrey, telling me to feel it rather than play the notes. The memory faded as though it had been in another life. Perhaps, it had been.

I quit thinking about it, afraid I would break down in tears. I will not cry today! Especially not in front of Francis.

Putting on the mask of indifference that I'd mastered in my years of being a future queen, I prepared for the worst.

Francis opened the door to the ballroom.