3

~Avila

I stare down at my hands, deep in thought.

Regardless of how long I spend scraping at the very edges of my mind, there are no memories to be found.

Pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, I let out a frustrated groan.

Who am I meant to be? What am I supposed to do now? My initial confusion has melted away into frustration, and I just want to scream.

I cast my gaze off to the window.

The moon is round and full tonight, casting an ethereal glow into the room. My eyes flutter closed, a sweet, flower-scented breeze ruffling through the curtains, blowing over my damp skin, finally cooling it.

I need to get outside. I can't be in this room a moment longer.

Snatching a sheer dressing gown off its hook, I slip it on and make my way out the door and into the corridor.

Everything about this place is vast and cold.

The ceilings are tall and sweeping, adorned with ornate fixtures and painted various shades to create intricate patterns.

My bare feet pad against the cool wooden flooring as I wander toward what I hope is the exit.

Nothing in this manor seems personable. The wallpaper is a plain shade of ivory and all the furnishings are too polished and proper to be of actual use to anyone.

My hand glides down the bannister as I descend the stairs.

"These are all understandable questions, but you must know that I don't yet have answers for them." Roel's hushed voice sounds from the corridor near the stairs.

Wrapping my gown closer around me, I sneak to the near wall, turning my head to listen in to what he is saying.

"She was dead for six months and her body is in perfect condition, no signs of decomposition." It's Crimson.

They are talking about me.

I look down at my hand, imagining my flesh rotting, peeling away to reveal stark white bone. I shake my head, expelling the intrusive thought.

"I would suggest not using words like that around her. Not right now," Roel mutters.

The wall is cold against my back as I lean closer to the archway. I'm desperately trying to fight off the itching in my nose from the flowers that seem to be spawning everywhere around me.

"It has to be magic," Crimson hisses.

She doesn't trust me. I wouldn't either, I suppose, since I don't trust her, but still...

"Look, none of us were checking her casket to see if she ever did truly begin the process," Roel say uncomfortably.

Twisting around, I carefully peek around the corner so I can see them.

Crimson's arms are wrapped around herself as she shifts from foot to foot. "What if it's not my daughter, but an imposter?"

A lump gathers in my throat.

"You know that's not the case. She has no memories, so the person she was has been erased,” Roel explains. He looks bothered by her paranoia, while also attempting to comfort her.

I hope they pay him well…whatever it is he does here.

"She may not be fit to be Queen,” Crimson hisses through her teeth.

"None of this can be known for certain yet, Crimson. All we can do is slowly integrate her back into her old life." Roel sounds like he is scolding her.

"What are the people going to say?"

"That cannot be known, not yet. Only a close circle should learn of this until we can make sense of it," he advises.

"So we lock her in here?"

My breath hitches, the thought of that sending a jolt of panic through me. Locked up? I can't imagine anything worse.

"No, she can leave, but only sparingly, and with a disguise," Roel amends.

Crimson shakes her head. "She won't like that."

Roel grabs her shoulders, as if to physically stop her trembling.

"You need to stop thinking of her like your daughter from six months ago. You need to think of her as your daughter who has woken up with no memory, and needs to be slowly nudged into her old life. Who she was may not be who she is now. Her entire identity has been erased."

I could kiss this old man. He knows how to say all the right things.

"I can't imagine what her father will think of this," Crimson worries.

"You know he will be perfectly accepting," Roel assures her gently.

"I have a bad feeling, Roel. I can't shake it." Crimson rubs her own arms, clearly familiar with having to console herself.

What if Crimson decides I'm something I'm not, and throws me out of this place. I'll have nothing, nobody...I don't know how to care for myself in this world, because I don't even know the world I'm in.

As terrified as I am about being thrown out, I'm equally terrified of being locked in.

"These feelings of doubt are natural. You accepted your daughter was gone and now she has returned. It is an adjustment," Roel soothes.

Crimson nods, biting on one of her nails anxiously. "I suppose."

"Get some sleep. Vade arrived about an hour ago, so he will be ready to see Avila in the morning." He gestures toward the stairs. I quickly pull back.

I need to get out of here.

With steps as light as possible, I pad around the other side of the staircase, winding through the corridor until I reach the large glass doors I came through when I first woke up.

The night air settles my nerves as I step out. I keep my eyes averted from the intricately decorated tomb erected just for me, right near the house like Crimson couldn't bear to part with my dead body.

It would be sweet, if it weren't so creepy.

I creep through the trees, my bare feet staining pink from the rotting flowers that are littered everywhere. I escape the smell only by passing through a set of neatly trimmed hedges that act as a perimeter to a pretty rose garden.

Dirt turns to gravel as I grimace, the rocks biting into my feet. Still, I persist, wanting to put some distance between myself and the house for a moment.

In the centre of the gardens I find a polished wood bench. I sit down on it, examining the engraved plate nailed it.

To my beloved Crimson - William

I swallow thickly. William must be my father's name. I wonder where this mysterious man is. It's strange that my soon to be betrothed arrived sooner than he did.

I settle against the wood, drawing in a deep breath. This vacant chasm that's torn through my chest, my stomach and my mind is draining my energy.

Just one memory...just one to know I really did exist before this would relieve some of my fear.

Something stirs in the shadows just above where my gaze has been focused on the gravel in front of me. Looking up, I look out through the thorny bushes, squinting.

Sure enough, a figure slips from view, backing away into the darkness.

"Ah...is someone there?" I ask uneasily, my voice cutting through the night.

No one answers me.

Slowly, I stand, taking a few cautious steps toward where the figure vanished behind the hedge. The sound of footsteps retreating on stones rings out distantly, so I start off toward it, dodging the bushes.

"Hey! I can see you," I call out. The figure has emerged from behind the hedges, heading off toward the edge of the estate.

Can they not hear me or something? I would assume they were a staff member, maybe a gardener, if they didn't have a hood over their head and looked like they didn't want to be seen.

"Where are you going!" I yell out.

He doesn't stop, emerging from the garden, heading out across the lawn. He isn't running, but he's walking fast enough that I have to speed up in hopes of catching up to him.

The moment my feet touch the grass, I start running. He's close to disappearing down the hill, I just need to reach for him...

Suddenly my foot sinks into a small hole in the ground causing my ankle to buckle. I pitch forward, landing flat on my stomach.

I groan, first registering the dew sinking into my clothing, and then the pain blowing over my left cheek.

Tugging myself up, I rest on my knees, breathing in deeply. The figure has vanished into the night, likely down the hill and past the fence by now.

"Avila..."

Frowning, I look over my shoulder, seeing someone approaching me. They look stricken, eyes wide as they sweep over me.

"Get away from me," I yelp, scrambling up to my feet. I have no idea who this is.

He hesitates, remaining a few steps away from me. I don't like that he's staring at me like this. His eyes are silvery under the gleam of the moonlight, his hair a dark brown, almost black. I don't care if he's handsome, he's scared me.

"Hey, it's me, Vade," he soothes, taking a cautious step at me.

I let out a long breath. Oh.

Through my haze of panic, it dawns on me that I do remember him from that photo. He looks different, though. His face hasn't changed, but he somehow seems taller than I would have thought, with muscles more filled out than in the photo.

"Oh. Okay." I wipe my hand over my forehead, wincing when it comes back covered in dirt. I took a nasty fall.

He looks over my shoulder. "What were you running from?"

I follow his stare over the dip in the hill. I'm not sure what possessed me to chase after a complete stranger and then get scared when one appeared behind me in the dark. I just felt deep within me that I needed to see who it was that was watching me...

"I was chasing something. Someone," I tell him, clearing my throat uncomfortably.

The initial shock has melted from his face, and now, his jaw is tightening, his eyes darkening.

"Don't go out this far at night. It's how you slip and fall." His gaze shifts down to my knees. Sure enough, they are covered in dirt, and a thin trickle of blood falls down from a small graze.

"I'm fine," I grit out.

"There are dangerous things out here," he warns. "You of all people should know that."