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fifteen
More Alone Than Ever
Alessia
Rainer was actually decent to me last night. There was no more lighthearted teasing as we sipped our tea. No heartfelt conversations. Only peaceful silence. Rainer reverted to his brooding ways, but he also didn’t press me about why I can’t sleep or why I’m searching for safety in Avylon.
It was exactly what I needed—company, without the stipulations of niceties.
It felt safe. Comforting.
It’s almost like Rainer understands my struggles. Or at least, maybe he recognizes them. It felt big when he admitted his trouble sleeping to me—even though it was more of a reluctant acknowledgment than a verbal admission—as if we share something important.
I spend the remainder of the afternoon with Das Celyn in the kitchen. But as night comes, and I’m alone in my bed, my chest pangs for Char again.
I never feel as alone as I do at night.
Throwing on a thin nightgown to combat the warm evening, I exit my room for an evening walk. I decide to stay indoors, hesitant to go outside after my encounter with the shadow being.
Plus, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to run into Rainer.
After roaming the first floor for what seems like hours, I push open double-doors into a wing I haven’t yet been in. One that Das Celyn has never showed me, never cleaned when I’ve accompanied them.
It’s a haphazard of blooming life, obviously well cared for despite the disorder.
The air is humid, fragrant. Floral scents and moist earth fill my nose. A couple of watering cans and empty pots litter the floor. Vines crawl up the walls, around the doorways that line the left. The ceiling and entire right wall are made of glass, like a greenhouse. The natural light during the day must be spectacular.
Perfect for the plants to thrive.
It’s no wonder this area of the house was chosen for the plants. But, I wonder why they’re here, tucked away out of sight in an otherwise abandoned wing of the house.
Following the hallway, I pass the bulk of plant-life. Something moves out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn my head, everything is still. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, but I swear some of the plants twitch as I drift by.
I pass a couple of closed doors, and at the end of the hallway sits a pocket door. I slide it open to reveal a small spiral staircase tucked away in a sitting room. White sheets are thrown over the furniture, which piques my curiosity.
I patter up the narrow staircase, which curves up to the second floor. Immediately, I’m greeted by a hallway with much cooler, drier air. As if it’s temperature controlled.
Magic, surely.
Creepy portraits of what I assume to be the royal family line the hall. In the most recent portraits—more vibrant in color, less faded—there’s one of a woman with raven hair and ethereal blue eyes like Rainer, one of a man with greying hair and stormy dark eyes, and one of Rainer.
None of them smile, and they all glance off into the distance with a glazed over stare. Pointed ears poke through their hair.
Rainer looks lifeless albeit regal. Something in his haunted gaze makes me sad. Whereas the couple—likely his parents—stand proud and confident, Rainer’s shoulders are slumped, his lips and brow tight.
The portraits give the royal faerie family a sense of humanity. I wonder what happened to his parents. I wonder why none of them have a portrait together—only individually.
I try to shake the chill that’s made a home in my bones, but I can’t.
Dim light seeps out of an open door at the end of the hallway, as if it’s inviting me in. I accept the draw, creeping into the room.
A sharp exhale leaves me as I take in why the area needs to be temperature controlled. Inside, books of all sizes, colors, and styles line the large room, floor-to-ceiling, in dozens of rows.
Other than the books I stole, and the letters Char snuck me, I’ve never been much of a reader. Then again, I never had a true chance to read for pleasure. It was more a mandatory lesson for me, courtesy of Char, than anything fun.
I finger the hardback spines as I walk down a row, and inhale the smell of ink, leather, and paper. It’s musty and dank, but somehow relaxing. There’s another scent mixed in that reminds me of Rainer, and begrudgingly I revel in that as well.
My bones relax.
