Chapter Fifteen- That of Poison and Roses

Red.

Red.

Red.

It rims my vision like a trail of flames, making me question why I'd gotten my hopes up in the first place. It's not like I'd ever trusted Casimir, but I'd foolishly held a glimmer of hope that the chalice could be the key to solving this case.

I walk up and down the luxurious halls of Aldridge Palace, hating every bit of it. Taking the chalice for himself is one thing, but trying to say that a Thorne was behind this? It's absurd, to say the least.

You didn't kill him, Aily. 

It's not your fault.

I repeat it in my head like a mantra as I lose myself in the expansive corridors. 

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

I've seen what happens when I let the guilt overtake me. It took years to convince myself that I wasn't responsible for Miriam's death.

Holy hexes, Miriam.

It was as though her soul was calling out from every bejeweled aspect of this place. I'd never gotten to see the place where my older sister had died, and I'd never expected to be here under these circumstances.

The Aldridge family had officially murdered my sister and my father.

Yes, technically speaking, Miriam wasn't murdered, but she died at their hands all the same. The Eldorian Palace Doctors had claimed they could cure this mysterious illness she'd contracted.

They claimed they could fix her.

But one night she never came home, and we got the missal declaring her death by post a few days later. I remembered the way my mother held the paper, remaining stone faced until she was alone to cry. I remember peeking through the door of my parents' bedroom, watching her hands shake as she folded up the crisp parchment, watching tears soak her face and ruin her makeup.

It was the only time I've ever seen my mother cry. 

I don't know where my feet are taking me, but my mind is ablaze. I remember the way I told myself, again and again, that it wasn't my fault. But the truth is, I'd known long before anyone that Miriam was sick. I'd seen the silvery strands poking through her red hair, noticed the way she took frequent trips out of the castle.

When she explained to me what was going on, I had to promise not to tell anyone. Maybe if I'd told someone sooner, it wouldn't have been too late for the Eldorian Palace Doctors to save her. 

But I guess now I'll never know, because she's gone. 

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

The anger in my vision is beginning to clear, but my mind refuses to settle down. I'm taunted once more by the maroon carpet swirling beneath my feet. Red, in any shade, has been my least favorite color since Miriam died. Red is for Eldoria, for betrayal. It's for Miriam, for secrets kept, and broken promises, and a love that was never meant to last. It's for my father, who died a death that was clean like a white death but intentional like a maroon death. Red is for the pains of fresh blood, and the facade that is my everyday makeup.

I look up from the carpet to realize that I have no clue where I am, nor where I'm going. Perhaps getting so lost in my thoughts was a mistake. It's gotten later than I'd thought, and I wonder where the time has vanished to. I turn around to the way from which I came, knowing that it won't be as simple as a straight path back. I'd taken turns around corners, chosen forks in my path, all without realizing it.

Despite the tall ceilings and long stretch ahead of me, I find myself feeling trapped. My eyes dart down each corridor as a feeling of panic settles in. Feeling trapped is the worst feeling. It creeps up on you like a predator to its prey, grabbing hold of you and never letting you go.

My breaths become labored, and I wipe my palms on my olive green dress. I will my foot to pick up, but my legs feel heavy. Eventually, I'm walking again, still without a clue as to where I'm going. Perhaps if I-

"Rose?"

My thoughts are interrupted by his familiar voice, and I turn around to find the black hair and blue eyes of Casimir Aldridge. Just like earlier, the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, and his black pants are untucked over boots. I notice a sheath hanging at his waist, with what I can only assume is a dagger.

"What're you doing down here?" His brow furrows, and I realize I don't know exactly where here is. But letting him know that would be a grave mistake. I set my hands on my hips lightly, gathering the courage to meet his gaze.

"I thought we were guests here. What, afraid I'll find something you don't want me to?"

"By all means," he waves his hand towards the empty hallway before us, "Find your way back on your own." 

He starts walking away, and the feeling of being trapped gnaws at a part of me I'd tried to keep hidden. As his steps begin to retreat, I decide to swallow my pride. 

"Aldridge."

He turns around on one heel, a devilish smirk landing on his face.

"Yes, Rose?"

"First," I walk to meet him, "I told you to never call me that. Ever. And second-"

"What is it, Thorne?" His sentiment is anything but kind.

"You know what it is," I refuse to say the words he's all but asking me to say.

"Ah, I may be feared throughout the land, but that's for my swordsmanship, not my mind-reading abilities."

"Hm," I purse my lips, "Let me guess, you're known for your humility too?"

His gaze lowers to the floor to hide a laugh, and I think I've won until he says, "What was it that you needed to tell me, again?"

My eyebrows raise, and his eyes indicate that we are, in fact, doing this. 

"Fine. I need your help, is that what you wanted to hear?"

He cups his ear with his hand, leaning towards me. "What was that, Thorne? I didn't quite catch it."

I'd imagine my annoyance is clear on my face, but Casimir either doesn't notice or simply doesn't care. 

"I said I need your help, damnit!" My voice raises more than I intended it. Somehow, when it comes to Casimir Aldridge, I simply can't keep myself composed.

It probably isn't him, though. The last two days have been a wild carriage ride of emotions as it is. 

"Lost, are we?" He says, "Now, normally I'm not a gentleman, but since you asked so kindly-" 

He slips his hand in the crook of my elbow, and I begrudgingly let him. Together, we saunter down the halls at a pace I can only assume was made to taunt me. And, though I'd never admit it to Casimir, the likelihood of me finding my way back on my own was slim to none. The hallways all look identical to me, but perhaps Casimir sees something that I don't.

We finally arrive at a door that I assume is mine. Though, knowing him, he could've led me even further away just to screw with me. I take my hand from his arm, and reach out for the knob.

"Thorne?"

I don't respond, but he continues anyway. As he’s focused on talking, I pray he doesn’t notice as my hand brushes up against his pants, my fingers touching smooth metal. Right next to his dagger is a ring of various keys, which I figure can be useful to me later. That requires me figuring out where I’m going first, but that’s a problem for another time. 

I miss the first part of what he’s saying, but his voice is softer now, and it leaves me with a feeling in my stomach that I can't describe. "Look, I don't truly believe that you killed my father. But I'm also no fool. If Scarshade can only be found in Briarwood-"

"If you're asking me to interrogate my mother for you, the answer is no. She didn't kill my father."

"Tell yourself that all you want, Rose," he sees me scowl at the nickname before continuing, "But it doesn't change the fact that our only current lead points to her. Now prove it to me. Do you want the truth, no matter what it may entail, or would you prefer to stay inside of that bubble of yours where nothing your family does has been wrong?"

My throat goes dry, and I decide it's best to leave his question unanswered. But even as I open the door to confirm that this room is, in fact, mine, his words ring in my head, where they'd remain the whole night long.