Page 75 of Duke of the Sun

“I am fine,” she snapped, crossing her arms as the dizziness threatened to topple her. “I am standing now, am I not?”

“Cordelia -”

Irene rose alongside her, resting a gentle hand over Cordelia’s shoulder. “Might we settle for a simple walk in the sun, sister?”

Cordelia eyed her temperamental brother, who looked to have no intention of settling for something as simple as a walk. “If I agree to leave my chambers,” she began, “Duncan must promise not to approach Michael.Especiallynot with the intention of summoning a duel.”

Irene smiled. “I believe that to be a fair compromise.” She shot a glare towards their brother. “Don’t you agree, Duncan?”

His dark stare flicked between the two of them before thrusting an accusatory finger in Cordelia’s direction. “A walk, Cordelia,” he snapped. “A long one, at that. Throw in some food afterwards, and I’ll be satisfied.”

Cordelia let a small smile pull across her lips, though she did not feel it to be genuine. “If you wish, brother, I will see it done.”

The Celeston siblings lingered a little longer before taking their leave, satisfied with Cordelia’s agreement to take a walk around Solshire. She left her chambers once they left, ignoring the surprised looks the staff gave her.

Outside of the estate, a thunderstorm approached in the distance. It lingered over the treetops, an enveloping darkness swallowing up the countryside the closer it came. Cordelia quite enjoyed how it looked, and in any other time, she might’ve found herself quick to capture a painting of the dramatic landscape. The trees seemed to lean towards the oncoming rain, desperate to catch a droplet or two upon its leaves.

Cordelia followed a narrow dirt path around the estate, one that dipped down towards the lake. A gentle wind coaxed ripples throughout the water, the sharp grass swaying back and forth in rhythm with it. Cordelia crept closer to the ominous water, noticing how it reflected the darkness growing in the sky overhead. She went further to the lake, ignoring how the ground became muddy alongside the shore, her indoor shoes failing to provide enough support against it. Despite that, she continued forward still, finding herself to be almost hypnotized by the quiet waves.

Thunder crashed in the distance, jolting Cordelia. She slipped against the mud slightly, her foot dipping into the icy cold water before she managed to regain her balance. But the wobble brought along an unavoidable dizziness, one that came along from her lack of appropriate sustenance. Even when she swayed and trembled, her vision growing unfocused as she looked over the water, Cordelia refused to turn around. There was something about the lake that reminded her of Michael. Perhaps it was the unseen mystery that laid beneath it, or the unusual lull that radiated off it.

Cordelia took another step as a gust of cold wind rushed through her, as if she were made of nothing but bones. The dark storm approached quicker than she thought it would, the wind growing stronger and more forceful with each gust. Cordelia shivered, and the world spun around her. Feeling rather faint, she took a single step away from the lake, realizing that she was close to teetering into unconsciousness.

“Oh!”

Cordelia released a sharp gasp as she lost her footing, the muddy ground giving way from beneath her. Unlike last time, when she managed to regain her balance, Cordelia lacked the strength to do so. She wavered and shook, her legs giving out and forcing her to tumble into the icy water.

The inky black lake greedily swallowed her up.

For a moment, Cordelia felt rather at home. It was dark and cold, wrapping itself around her like a blanket. She reveled in the lake, everything that had once plagued her slowly slipping out of her mind. But then, as she faced the growing darkness, Cordelia could see Michael’s face within it, and the pain rushed back forward.

Cordelia splashed out the surface of the lake, her arms flailing in the air as she desperately clawed against the shore.

“Your Grace!”

Figures ran from the estate, rushing down the short hill and towards the lake. She imagined seeing Michael within the rush of people, imagining that it was him who reached into the darkness for her. Though she knew that hardly wasn’t the case, arms hoisted her out of the lake, and rested her against the grassy shore. Cordelia felt the coughs and gasps leave her lips, though she could hardly catch her breath. The cold clung to her mercilessly, her limbs trembling nonstop. Even when cloths were draped across her, even when the arms returned to hoist her off the ground, the chill never left.

“I believe her leg to be fractured,” a voice said on her left.

“We must fetch the doctor,” another exclaimed to her right.

Countless sounds filled the air around Cordelia, but everything was too muddled for her to truly see them. Instead, all she could see was Michael, who stood in front of her in her imagination. He reached for her, radiating the warmth she seemed unable to grasp. Cordelia tried to reach but her arms felt as heavy as stone. Michael inched further and further away from her, the cold grasping a hold of her heart and refusing to let go. She wished to beg, she wished to plead to be rid of the lake, of how it grasped a hold of her, but it was to no use.

Michael was not at Solshire. Michael did not return in the lick of time to rescue her.

Cordelia wept as the staff carried her back into the estate.

CHAPTER23

The private boxing ring in which Michael had practiced all his life did not hold the same comfort as it used to. Perhaps he was imagining things, but the room echoed darkness all around him. He merely stood within the middle, already dressed in his loose clothes to box, already wearing his thin gloves and padding. A part of him felt as though he had been there for days, maybe even weeks, just standing there. Every once and a while, there would be a voice in the back of his mind, one that desperately called out to him.

“Michael,” the familiar voice said into his ear. “Why did you leave me?”

He flinched and shuttered.

For the last four days, Michael found himself in a pit of unavoidable despair. The life he left behind in Solshire haunted him still, keeping him from sleeping or behaving like a regular person. He saw Cordelia everywhere he looked. She was in the swaying trees outside of his townhouse, she was in the geese that flew overhead. She was the gentle breeze that coaxed his hair, the very grass beneath his feet. She was in everything the light touched. Michael felt as though he was haunted by her, despite death never touching her.

He waited impatiently for Rhys to arrive, pacing throughout the ring. He sent a rushed letter late in the evening a few days ago, imploring him to meet him for a boxing match as soon as he could. Though he had said in the letter that he needed some form of social interaction after parting ways from Cordelia, Michael was well aware of how it was an unmistakable lie. He needed the rush of adrenaline that came with a fight, he needed the feeling of pain to rock through him, he needed the bruises and the scars. And the only person in all of London willing to do such a thing without a single drop of fear, was Rhys.

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