Page 8 of Vanish

When had something that had begun as nothing more than a dutiful arrangement become so personal?

I recalled the first moment I’d seen my future wife when after months of negotiations we’d finally traveled to Thorndale. My heart pounded wildly in my chest the moment she finally entered the room, half hidden behind her father. When she finally edged forward and lifted her eyes to meet mine, I sucked in a breath of surprise.

I’d met several princesses in the past, all of whom exuded a certain level of poise, having been trained from birth for their position. Instead, a startling vulnerability reflected in Lisette’s wide green eyes that seemed to plead with me to rescue her from a plight that I didn’t understand.

No one had ever looked at me as though I was her sole hope, and I felt a nearly overwhelming urge to protect her from whatever had her trapped in such a state of pain and fear. Upon our arrangement I’d been told that while she didn’t possess great beauty she was known for her gentle kindness, but in that moment I scarcely noticed her appearance compared to the powerful draw I felt towards her.

My feet nearly urged me forward against my command, so I shifted my attention away to regain control. When I looked back at the princess I found her staring steadily at the floor, making me fear I’d somehow failed her, though I wasn’t sure how.

All throughout dinner I attempted to start a conversation, but my concern and confusion made my usual ease in conversing a struggle, a problem worsened by her brief, strained responses. My worry increased the more of her rising frustration I sensed. It was clear she suffered from deep distress. I yearned to know how to help her, but surrounded by others and unable to even catch her eye most of the time, I was at a loss.

Before I could think of a way to discreetly ask after her wellbeing, the ball began. I rose and extended a hand towards her, hoping that the semi-privacy of the dance floor would allow her to open up to me…but when I attempted to place my hand on her waist for the waltz, she cringed.

I stilled, wondering for the first time ifIcould possibly be the subject of her fear. Though the thought seemed in contrast with the way she’d looked at me earlier, with her continual silence betraying no further information, I didn’t know what to think.

Refusing to dance was out of the question, but I couldn’t bear the thought of causing her discomfort. After a moment’s consideration I offered the only relief I could and danced with as little contact as possible in hopes of easing the tension that bunched her shoulders.

At our dance’s conclusion, she quickly retreated. I spent the remainder of the evening circulating the room, meeting the officials of Thorndale and familiarizing myself with the people Lisette had grown up with. From time to time I glanced covertly towards the princess, who had found a quiet nook along the wall to watch the spinning couples on the floor.

I frequently felt her gaze on me and once more noticed the longing I’d seen when we first met. The look haunted me when I found myself alone in my guest chamber later that night. I paced restlessly, wondering what could have caused her fear and why she’d turned to me—still merely a stranger—for help.

Our subsequent meetings and infrequent letters eventually shed a little light—her behavior in part appeared to be due to an innate shyness that made it difficult for her to build relationships, yet this seemed to be combined with a deeper issue that I hoped to someday understand.

I never saw that look of desperate imploring again, at least not to the same extent. However, the princess became more reserved with each visit, treating me with careful politeness while concealing any true emotion beneath her bashfulness, as if determined to keep me from seeing more than a superficial version of herself. Even so, there were flashes of insight—expressions I caught in unguarded moments or the way she startled whenever her father came up behind her or spoke.

With our rare interactions, it seemed impossible to build the trust that would allow her to one day confide in me, and I longed to share my own struggles with her. Every time we were together, I hoped that we could begin to forge a true friendship, and every time we parted I felt a renewed desire for the day we would marry and finally have time to truly know one another and shoulder our burdens together—given time and patience, surely she would warm up to me and finally move past the cool indifference she constantly projected.

Despite our unsatisfying encounters and her increasing withdrawal, what started out as concern for my unknown betrothed gradually shifted into something more. Though I couldn’t pinpoint the moment when everything had changed, the turmoil I now experienced only confirmed that the indifference I projected served as a mask for my true feelings. They’d only deepened as I’d awaited news concerning my missing fiancée’s fate all day…only to be crushed when the guards I’d sent to search eventually returned with their report that they’d found no sign of her; she’d truly vanished.

Even with this devastating pronouncement I couldn’t shake the sensation that followed me as I wandered the palace, nor the various moments I thought I sensed her…from when I thought I felt her invisible touch caressing my back during our ride back to the palace—a gesture she would undoubtedly be too shy to initiate should she have really been there—to the several instances that followed upon our return. With every trick of the light I thought I glimpsed her in my peripheral vision…only to turn around and see nothing.

My awareness of her during these moments faded in and out, confirming that the times I thought she was nearby were nothing more than the fanciful whims of a desperate imagination. I’d no sooner given up on searching for an illusion that didn’t exist when I glimpsed it again—an outline I was too familiar with to mistake for anyone other than Lisette.

I gaped at her, bulging eyes blinking rapidly as I took in the features I’d feared I’d never see again, as if to discern whether the image before me was real. This time it didn’t fade. I felt as if I was staring at a shadowy reflection against the water, colorless and translucent, as if she wasn’t really there.

I shakily extended my hand to reach for hers, but my touch went right through her. “Lisette?” I spoke her name hesitantly, as if acknowledging her presence would cause reality to erase her once more—like dropping a pebble in water to disturb a reflection—but this time she didn’t fade.

She truly was here. Relief penetrated my shock and I hungrily took in her features before my mind drew its dreaded conclusion. “You’re invisible.”

It was undoubtedly a side effect of the curse, confirming Lisette had truly befallen the fate I most feared. Devastation threatened to consume me, only staved off by the reminder that my ability to see her must mean she hadn’t fully succumbed. Even though she hadn’t yet wholly vanished, a feeling of helplessness swept over me as I wondered how to prevent her from completely slipping away…if such a thing was even possible.

Despite being beyond pleased to see her, habit kept my usual indifferent countenance firmly in place, my usual protection. In turn she said nothing, simply watched me, her translucent brow furrowed in concentration, as if it took her considerable effort to remain visible. As much as I disliked it, the silence that always accompanied our conversations confirmed what my heart already knew: this was definitely Lisette.

Her reservation that had marked each of our previous interactions had made it difficult to get to know her, leaving me longing to know the thoughts her shyness often prevented her from expressing. This unquenched curiosity had been one of countless regrets upon learning of her fate, even as whatever mysterious magic that allowed me to see her now granted me a precious second chance…unless it was merely mocking me, allowing me a tantalizing glimpse that would never materialize. Part of me remained unconvinced she was really here, yet the comfort brought by her presence dispelled any lingering doubt. Even if only my desperation had conjured her, at least for this moment we were together again.

Yet our reunion was marred by the same awkwardness that filled our previous interactions—the tension and discomfort shrouding our extended silences filled with nothing but our uncertainties of what to say to one another. Silence pressed around us, the only measurement for the passage of time as I scrambled for the words always more difficult to conjure around her to voice the dozens of questions bombarding my mind.

When I finally managed to painstakingly string my thoughts together, I prioritized the most pressing inquiry just in case she or my voice slipped away again. “Are you alright?”

That finally stirred a reaction—she tilted her head in silent question. I silently berated myself for asking something so ridiculous when her current circumstances meant that she was anythingbutalright.

She seemed to be trying to say something. It took her several tries to manage quiet, whispery words that seemed to dissolve into nothingness the moment she spoke them. “It appears you can finally see me after all.”

Her words confirmed what my faltering sense yearned to believe: Ihadnoticed her presence. There was so much I wanted to express midst my fierce relief. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” The apology extended deeper than my guilt in order to cover every regret for how our relationship had unfolded.

Her eyes narrowed. “For what reason? Because my disappearance has caused Brimoire great inconvenience? I’ve been watching you since you discovered the fate that befell me, and you seem to possess no other remorse.”

My heart constricted. “I—”

---