Page 1 of Saved By the Headless Horseman
1
SCARLETT
My hand is steady as I copy the four simple lines.
The black ink against the parchment creates a stark contrast.Despite my careful precision, the words are anything but unique.I have spent the last month writing down the same sentences and matching my mother’s script exactly.
No doubt she’ll find errors in my work—she always does.
At one point, her displeasure would’ve meant something to me.I would’ve been eager to please and beg for a chance to correct my mistake.That is not the case now.I can see these words when I close my eyes at night.They torment me when sleep will not come.It’s been at least a month since I slept longer than a few fitful hours.
I dip my pen into the ink pot and start on the third line.This task is mundane and surely does not require so many of my father’s guards.However, they aren’t here to observe my penmanship.They are here to make sure I don’t throw open the stained-glass windows inside the study and fling myself out of them.Tumbling down onto the overgrown lawn below and falling into a puzzle of broken limbs, never to be put back together again.
Or perhaps they worry I’ll try to flee again, though I can assure them there is no risk of that.Once I saw the body, I had no desire ever to set foot into theWhispering Woodsagain.
It is not out of parental concern that my father has his men stationed in here.No, these guards are here to ensure I will make it to tomorrow evening.Once I am wed and the duke’s gold fills my father’s coffers, my father will no longer be my warden.I will be free to do as I please.
And if that means ending up broken along the cliffs of Darkwood Castle, then so be it.
My father will not shed a single tear.Come tomorrow, I will be the Duke of Greenbooke and his son, Bram’s problem—a problem they won’t have to stomach for long.
A familiar numbness settles inside me.Ice encases my body, weakening my hand.It falls limply to the table, still clutching the pen.I don’t know how I’ve lasted this long—it hasn’t been for lack of trying.
I would’ve starved myself to death weeks ago if my mother’s servants had not begun force-feeding me some vile concoction.It tastes like rotten eggs and smells even worse, but it keeps me alive.As such, it is forced down my throat every morning despite my protests.While it may keep me from death, I’m not immune to the effect not eating has had on my body.
Bathing is another forced task, and once the servants have scrubbed me pink, I stand before the mirror, not recognizing the creature staring back at me.Her long, pale, blonde hair hangs limply down her back.Each one of her ribs pokes from beneath her sallow skin like the roots of a tree sprouting through the soil.Sharp cheeks and gaunt eyes make me look every bit the wraith I feel like.Cursed to live but wishing for death, stuck in this infernal realm alone.
He used to call me his moon—luminous and glowing—and he was my sun.The two of us are opposites, yet the same.In the night, hidden by darkness, is where we would converge, becoming one after spending the day separated.Our fates were woven together by the same magic that made the stars.
Now there is nothing.Only an unending emptiness fills my lungs with broken glass.My heart bleeds inside my chest, its pounding irregularly as if still searching for the one it was tied to.There is a void that stretches, consuming everything in its path.My only consolation is knowing that tomorrow this will all be over.
I will only be an earl’s wife for a moment.Scoffing at the idea, one of the guards looks up, not used to my uttering a sound during the hours spent locked inside here.I stare back at him, and the blankness in my gaze causes him to avert his eyes.I am a creature to them—they can’t understand why I would let this twist me.They think I should be grateful to the duke and his son.
They will be lucky if I do not drag both of them into death with me.That is what they deserve for what they did.There is only one whom I call husband—once I am no more will be reunited.Our vows of eternity will see our souls entwined in whatever world lies beyond this one.
Our stolen nights are the only thing I hold dear.Beneath the moon, we laid ourselves bare and made promises of forever.Whispered confessions and stifled sighs with only the stars as our witnesses.I should’ve known it wasn’t going to last.We had gotten so close to having it all—at least I believed we had.What a fool I was to not see things for what they were.
If only I had been more careful and fled Crow’s Claw Manor while we still had a chance, everything would be different.Especially if he had not?—
My eyes burn, but no tears fall.I’ve used them all up over this past month.My hand trembles as it grips the pen.The last line is pristine save for the final letter.A sharp jerk and a droplet of dark ink blights the perfect replication.It runs down the paper in a steady stream, collecting at the edge.
The page may weep, but I cannot.Returning the pen to the ink pot, I sit back against the stiff chair.My corset is too big, making it so my mother’s ladies have to lace me into it twice as tightly.It is an effort to even lift my hand and add this page of vows to the already high stack.I would hide the offending note from my mother if I feared her punishment.
However, there is nothing she can do to me now that would be worse than the hell I’m living in.What can you be threatened with when you’ve already lost everything?My hands begin to shake violently atop the table until I’m forced to clutch them in my lap.Whether the trembling is from insomnia, hunger, pain, or a bleak combination of all three, I cannot be sure.
My hands flatten along the skirt of my dark gown.It won’t be long now.
As if on cue, the midday bells chime from the clock tower above.The harsh bells ring out and add to the pounding in my head.I remain perfectly still as the study door is pulled open.The quick, steady click of my mother’s elegant gait echoes on the stone floor behind me.Before this month, I would’ve risen from my seat and bowed to my lady mother as was her due as an earl’s wife.
Now, Countess Christina will have to do without my flattery.
I was a fool to think playing the part of a perfect daughter would’ve earned me at least her favor.I had done everything that was asked of me without complaint.We had both done what was demanded of us in the hopes of one day being rewarded, or at the very least given our freedom to make our own way.I should’ve known better.
From the moment I was born and pronounced a girl, my only value became that of a bargaining chip.A prized mare to be sold off to the highest bidder who could expand my father’s lands and wealth.His ambition has taken everything from me.That is why I stare blankly ahead even as my mother drifts into view.
Storm clouds roll in over the rocky shore.The sky is a pale gray as if it, too, is in mourning.
My mother stops above me, ever the foreboding finger.Her gray hair is pulled into a tight twist at the back of her head.She was still a beauty, even with the deep wrinkles around the pale blue eyes she gave me.Her red lips were already pinched in disapproval.She doesn’t understand.Her marriage to my father was out of necessity, not love.If she cares about the current decline in my appearance, she doesn’t show it.
