Page 44 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
Chapter Fourteen
Blessed are those who hold chaos in their hearts and bright molten fury in their bones. Gatekeepers of divine intention. Keeping the world as it was always meant to be. Following the glory of Kysillia, who battled the endless night and put the Old Gods to rest.
Who purged the world of the endless night.
Reimor.
– Kysillian Hymns for the Fallen– Unknown
The Death of Kings.Fragments of the story haunted what little sleep I managed to have. Wearily I pulled my exhausted limbs out of bed, only to realise my walking skirt was still being laundered by William, leaving me no option but a smart navy dress suit I’d never worn.
I laced up my walking boots, attached my belt with my bag, before twisting my hair into a smart bun and adding a ribbon, foolishly hoping it would behave.
After stumbling about the room to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, Alma still didn’t appear. Disturbed about what she could be up to or if she’d wandered into a trap, I went to the kitchen, where the large cooking pots were at work scrubbing themselves in the sink as bread continued to be kneaded by invisible hands at the table and a broom hadgotten itself stuck in a corner bashing into the bricks as it attempted to sweep the floors.
A small plate of breakfast biscuits and milk were on the table. I took the opportunity to take my fill before freeing the broom from its stuck position and continuing my search.
‘Alma?’ I waited for the squeak of reply, but there wasn’t one. I moved to the larder, pushing a barrel out the way to see the large rolls of sealed cheese, expecting to see her feasting, but she wasn’t there.
‘Kat?’ a concerned William asked, a basket full of mud-covered vegetables in his arms as he came to a stop at the bottom of the kitchen stairs.
‘Morning, William. You haven’t seen Alma, have you?’ I put the barrel back and dusted down my skirts.
‘She was down earlier,’ he said, frowning, his eyes moving about the corners of the room.
‘I wonder what she’s found to occupy herself with.’
‘She’ll show up.’ William smiled, placing the basket on the worn kitchen table. ‘It must be hard to keep track of time as a mouse.’
Despite his sound reasoning, the feeling I was missing something remained.
‘I’d better turn my efforts to locating the study instead,’ I sighed, gathering up my skirts to make my way back up the stairs.
‘Good luck with that,’ he replied with a grin, sorting through the vegetables. Something about his cheery blissful nature seemed so strange compared to last night. The horror that anthrux bite revealed. The thought of it reminding me of that story.Reimor.
‘William, you couldn’t get me a copy of the saints’ teachings, or a holy book, could you?’
‘You can have mine if you want,’ he said with a shrug and an easy smile. ‘Little use it’s done me.’
‘I didn’t know you were a believer.’
‘I’m not. My father said it might save me from my own depravity, so I tried. However, I found trying to be something other than yourself is far too painful. So I’ll stay strange and immoral. To strange to be cured, perhaps’
The reminder of William’s cruel past sat uneasy in my gut.
‘I’ll bring it to you.’ He smiled, getting up and disappearing up the stairs before I could respond.
I followed, eyes on the floor for any sign of Alma, when a large worn wooden door with a beautiful gold handle creaked open – expecting me. I slipped inside, anticipating the familiarity of the study, only to stumble to a stop.
The room was large, with beautiful floral curtains, tightly closed and draped in cobwebs, the light barely able to stream through the gaps.
I could smell sage, rose oil and the bitter earthy scent of dead magic, and saw withered brown flowers still in their vases. Desks were pushed together, trunks stacked high with dresses and belongings piled on top. Healing cases and journals piled on the dusty floor. Abandoned personal objects hidden in the darkness by someone desperate to forget. Paintings leant against each other. The first was a portrait – the woman from the stairs, a man behind her with greying dark hair and an imposing nature in the silver uniform of a king’s commander. On the woman’s knee was a boy with black hair and crystalline eyes – Emrys. A teenage girl was stood to the side with her mother’s striking blonde hair and blue eyes.
The Blackthorn family.
‘Oh.’ A soft sound came from behind me. I turned to find William in the doorway, hands gathered before him, sadness heavy in his usually bright eyes.
‘I’m sorry, William,’ I admitted shamefully, quickly making my way back to the door. ‘I was looking for the study.’
