It felt as if a dark cloud had settled over the castle. Alethea’s servants fell silent whenever she entered the room, tutted quietly to each other as she left; they were in mourning, themselves, but knew that their sorrow was pale compared to their little lady’s. Her eyes were shadowed, heavy as if from lack of sleep. She had eaten nothing since returning to the castle from the cove the day before, and had spoken very little. What facts they needed could be gleaned from her expressions, when they asked.
What happened, Alethea? Where is Gibbs?
Anguish. Hollow despair.
She stood at her window, watching the light change over the glass as dawn reached out and swept away the night, as the last stars guttered out. Even in her pain she was beautiful – the hunted look in her eyes gave them a kind of vividness, the dark circles made them look larger than they were. She dressed in mourning black from neck to heel, all buttoned-up lace and silk, which disguised her figure and made her look, if anything, frail. Vulnerable. But this was mostly illusion. Alethea did not feel vulnerable. She felt like a monster. A monster that got people killed, with her selfish desires and childish treatment of the ones she loved.
Movement in the garden below caught her eye, as the sunbeams turned from lavender to gold. She watched, half-aware, the tawny-haired boy dig a shallow grave, bury a box, rearrange the pansies. His meticulousness pained her – it was too close, too similar to her own frantic feeling, her own sense that she was trying and failing to be good. Alethea moved from the window, out into the hall, down the winding stair. Leto followed close, padding quietly behind. They emerged through a door into the gardens and watched, silently, Thoth finishing his ritual. And then their eyes were drawn away by the hunting party as it clattered out of the courtyard. Alethea felt her chest constrict. She staggered back against the stone doorframe, held it with her hands.
Thoth’s voice, further away than she would have expected it, brought her back to reality. She followed the sound with her eyes, squinting beyond his little frame to the giant beyond the gate, before realizing that her feet were leading her nearer. The steps quickened, desperate, all the color draining out of the scene before her except the red of blood on the older boy’s shirt.
“Are...are you hurt?” she stammered, falling upon the gate as if she could not stand without bracing herself. Her wild gaze fixed on the boy’s shoulder, his shirt, his eyes. “What happened to you? Did...were you at the–Guards! This boy needs medical attention!” She interrupted herself before she could choke out the word “cove,” turned on her heel and found volume in her lungs that she hadn’t expected. Thoth stood before her, looking so much like her brother that she could not speak. She swallowed, blinked back unshed tears. “He’s bleeding,” she explained, as if in apology.
|
 |