Page 68 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
“I’m fine,” I bit out, walking toward him. “What do you need from me, Francis?”
“Uh—” He crooked his head. “Nothing, I suppose.”
“Then leave.” I spat out, slamming the door in front of his nose.
My insides turned upside down—
My legs carried me to the bathing chambers just when my stomach emptied itself out.
I washed my face with warm water; my lungs finally expanded with relief.
I studied my expression in the mirror; barely visible dark circles under my eyes suggested the restless day I had. Nightmares had haunted me, begging me to not bring them into reality, yet I had no choice. I had to go.
William Barren would never believe the authenticity of the documents were I to choose to stay behind. I had to go if I wanted a chance at safety for the people I loved.
I put my cloak on, closing the door behind me.
Making my way down the hall, I stopped by the door Florence had told me was hers when I first arrived, with a goblet of blood in my hands.
The door creaked open, showing two figures lying atop the bed sheets. Red, matted hair lay upon the pillow as if in flames. Roxanne’s sleepy eyes found mine.
“I just wanted to visit Florence before we left,” I whispered, offering Roxanne the goblet.
She nodded slightly, propping herself up on the bed as she took the drink.
My eyes traveled past her, stopping on Florence’s still features. Her dark, warm skin now looked lifeless. Her full bright lips were now pale.
I walked around the bed, taking Florence’s lifeless hand into mine.
“She is strong, nothing could ever break her,” Roxanne whispered.
“She is.” I squeezed Florence’s hand before heading for the door.
“Wait,” Roxanne’s hoarse voice called after me when I reached for the handle. “You have to make them believe,” she rasped. “Promise you will do whatever it takes.”
“You are not coming, then,” I said more to myself than to her.
Roxanne shook her head, “I cannot leave her.” Her eyes burned into mine. “Swear to me you will do everything possible.”
Why would she think I was capable of something like that? “I swear,” I said anyway.
“They will regret what they have done,” she bit out. “I will make sure of that.” She glanced at the figure by her side.
My hand grabbed the handle of the door when my eyes stopped on a beautiful painting staring at me from the wall. Two women were in a tight embrace, dancing through the empty ballroom. At the bottom of the painting it read,To the love of my life, R.
“You painted this?” I turned to Roxanne, who now gently brushed Florence’s hair.
“She actually painted everything in the castle,” Francis' voice brushed over my ear.
Dressed in fancy attire, he now stood by my side, at the threshold of Florence’s room. “We have to go,” he offered me a tight smile, leaving the room.
“It’s beautiful,” I sent Roxanne a small smile before following after him.
Our steps echoed through the corridor as we made our way down the stairs. The world increasingly spun the farther I strayed from safety. I drew a deep breath, reaching for the banister. Francis’ worried gaze fell upon me, though he refrained from saying anything.
Our earlier encounter floated above us like a heavy cloud. I should apologize for my outburst, yet the words would not come.
“Give me a moment.” Francis disappeared into—what looked to be—his study, without sparing me a glance when we reached the end of the stairs.
