Page 11 of Saved By the Headless Horseman
“Krane,” I whisper.
Even if I try to keep my wits about me, I cannot.I long to see him more than I care about my own self-preservation.
A wet, gargling sound falls from him.Crimson slides down his chest, making a mess of his white undershirt.The sticky red blood coats my hand, and I scream.The fog pulls back, revealing him with gruesome clarity.Blood pours from his neck as he chokes, grasping at the wound.
His beautiful face is a mess of red and black bruises.With bloodshot green eyes, he pins me where I stand.Choking and thrashing until finally his head falls from his shoulders.The body that loved me—that I knew better than my own—collapses into a heap.The hands that held me with tenderness fall to his side.
Krane’s face, where I mapped the freckles on his cheeks like stars in a constellation, lies beside his torso.Lips that kissed me and called me his moon—vowed that our love was worth every risk—were now pale and unmoving.My heart shatters at the awful sight.
It is how I found him that day in theWhispering Woods.Earl Bram’s dagger rests beside him in this recreation just as it did at the time.
I had gone searching for Krane the next morning, ready for us to make a plan to leave when he hadn’t been in the stables.I hunted the grounds for him until my search took me into the forest.It was my father’s guards who had found me, no doubt having heard the screams.They had brought my father to try to pry me from Krane’s corpse.I would not be moved.Sobbing onto his still chest, my heart lay down beside his and died.
My father offered no condolences.Nor any retribution for the murder of one of his most loyal and longstanding servants.He had merely sneered at me that the Duke had learned of Krane’s intent to ask for my hand.A slight to his son, as I had already been given to him.
It was Earl Bram’s place to dispatch him as my honor demanded.My father’s face had twisted in disgust as he told me it was best to keep just how long I’d been ruining myself with a stable boy to myself.The duke and his son were expecting an untouched bride.
There had been no funeral for him.No headstone to mark the ground and proclaim what a wonderful man he was.My father would not spare the coin for it and said the maggots could enjoy a fresh meal.
Now, as I stare down at his broken body once more, I see my father’s desire in action.Krane’s corpse begins to change color, fading from pale to blue to green.His strong body bloats and his skin stretches—the blood around his neck coagulates.The bones of his face pierce through the sinking flesh.Creatures burrow inside of him, eating away at his muscles and tendons.His milky eyes glaze over as worms push through.The wriggly, pale bodies of maggots devour his lips and tongue.
Bile races up my throat as I try to vomit.With an empty stomach, I only manage to throw up spit.A crow lands on his scalp and pecks at his eye, spearing it with its beak before devouring it whole.I scream at the creature and bang against the bars until they rattle.The fog thickens again.Krane’s body is dragged along the floor until it disappears in the dense mist.
With a scream, I throw myself against the bars, willing them to snap.Wherever he has gone, I want to follow.
From the fog, the Headless Horseman appears.Green fire spills from his pumpkin as he approaches my cell.I strain against the bar, reaching with all my might.My muscles are near tearing with the force.
“Why?”I demand.
The Headless Horseman says nothing.His steps reach me, and he pauses.The flickering of his green flames stirs my ire with a swiftness.I scream and slam myself against the bars.The pain in my ribs intensifies.
“Why?Why?Why!”
I scream the question over and over, finally succumbing to my madness.
Tears burn my eyes.One falls down my cheek in a steady stream.He lifts a hand, and I hold my breath as his gloved fingers ghost over my face.There is something familiar in his touch, but I smack his hand away.After being numb for so many weeks, it feels nice to have this rampant emotion blazing inside of me.
I hold on to the anger and let it fuel me.
“This is only the beginning,” he whispers.
Without another word, he turns on his leather boots and stomps away.The fog retreats in his wake.Once it peels back from my cell, a fresh loaf of bread and a cup of water are revealed.I groan and pull myself off the bars.What I just witnessed depletes me as I sink beside the plate of food.
How can this creature show me that?If this is the brand of torment he seeks to inflict on me, there is no way I’ll survive it.Wrapping my arms around myself, I realize I’m still playing the part of a fool.I was kidding myself if I thought I was in hell before.
This is hell—actual hell.To see Krane like that again…how many times will I be forced to watch that gory scene?Seeing the one you love in such a state is not something I’d wish on my worst enemy.I feel just as hopeless as I did then.
The depth of cruelty inflicted on him is not one I can stomach.To know he was alone and cold, that I sent him to his death even inadvertently, is not something I can withstand.I don’t know how long I will last in this cage if this is the Headless Horseman’s method of torture.
One thing is certain: I will lose my sanity long before I lose my life.
8
THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN
Her reaction to the memory had been surprising.
He had expected her to beg for forgiveness when faced with her treachery.The moment she stared down at the corpse of the one she betrayed, she would understand that’s why she was here.To atone for the sins she levied against him with her lies.
