AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wolfe
The Summer Palace is cold,and lonely, and desolate—and it feels like home. Days march on at a slow crawl as the wind howls outside and fires crackle in every hearth.
Chief stays by my side, and he’s my only anchor in a world that doesn’t make sense.
Twice, I’ve loved. Twice, a woman has carried my child. Twice, I’ve lost. Those words ring in my head like church bells every hour, on the hour.
I thought the pain of Abby’s death was the deepest cut I’d feel—but somehow, Rowan leaving feels worse. I know she’s somewhere south of here, living her life without me. I know our child is growing in her womb, and I might never get to meet it.
I could have her if things were different—but they’re not. She doesn’t want my life, and she’s not here.
It’s a painful, slow kind of torture to watch the seconds tick by, knowing I’m alone. I’ll be alone.
On a clear day in December, I take the dogs out to the visitor’s cottage. As soon as I get there, I’m wrapped up in my own sadness. I see Rowan everywhere. On the couch, where I first told her about Abby and she opened up about her mother. In the studio, where her eyes lit up. In the bedroom, where—
I turn away, shaking my head. That’s where everything went wrong. In that bed is where I crossed a line and allowed myself to believe I could have a better life. That I deserved happiness. That I might have met someone who meant something to me.
Naive. Stupid. Silly.
I turn around and throw my jacket back on, heading for the kennels. I’m back on the dog sled within minutes, returning to the castle.
Even with the wind whistling past my ears, and the blue bird sky singing above, I feel the weight of my own loneliness. The sled flies over hard-packed snow and the dogs huff in front of me, running fast as they were meant to do, but it feels empty.
It just reminds me of Rowan. How bright her eyes shined when she sat in the sled for the first time. The mischievous little grin on her lips when she threw a snowball at me.
How is it possible to lose so much in such a short period of time? I wish I’d never met her. I wish I hadn’t believed I could be happy, because this feels worse than grief.
The staff givesme lots of space. Even Eyvar is quieter than usual—if that’s even possible. They let me mope in the palace and spend time with my dogs, and I do my best to forget about the woman who plagues my dreams.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and soon, the mornings are brighter and the evenings are longer. I watch water droplets dripping down from the eaves outside my bedroom window, spying the first of the birds returning for the summer.
This place will be alive again, but I’ll remain dead.
In late March,a long procession of royal vehicles drives along the slushy road leading to the palace. My sister, or maybe one of my brothers, has arrived.
I pad through the silent halls to the front entrance, ready to greet them. I can’t quite put a smile on my face, so I don’t try.
What is there to smile about? Spring will burst into summer, and soon it’ll be winter once more. The world will keep turning, and I’ll keep standing still.
My sister emerges from the second vehicle in the convoy, a thick jacket wrapped around her slim body. She lifts her eyes to mine, dipping her chin down in greeting.
“Hi, Pen,” I say, too exhausted for formalities.
She puts her hands on my arms, squeezing. Her eyes search mine. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” I shrug her off.
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your broken heart.” She throws me one more glance, then brushes past me to walk into the palace.
You could say my sister is callous. Heartless, even, but I know the truth. She’s been hurt, too, and the only way she knows how to shield her pain is through a thick layer of frost. Who am I to try to change that? I’d rather hide away in the Summer Palace year-round than deal with my own scars. We’re more alike than I want to admit.
My sister’s heels click on the floors as she pulls off her gloves, handing them to a footman holding a silver tray out for her. When her jacket is stripped off, Penelope turns to glance at me. “Come to the office. We have construction logistics to discuss.”
Following my sister to the office near the palace library, I try not to think of what this will mean—constructing the design that Rowan spent months—years—working on. Erecting the building that came from her mind. Will I really want to live in a building she drew? Every aspect of this renovation will have Rowan’s essence soaked into it. I won’t be able to escape it. It’s stifling and exhilarating all at once.
