The Cursed, Pt. 7

The Cursed

Part 7

***

Celia would have been lying if she said she felt comfortable. Because she didn't, and lying about it would only make her even more uncomfortable.

She could say that she was mildly content, and that was partly because of how the music lulled her into feeling so. The musicians were now in the beginnings of a new number, one that was light and smooth, one that Celia unsurprisingly couldn't stop her hands from fluttering in tune with it. It was a sequence Celia was extremely familiar with: The Mage and his Heart. A special song, one deemed to be the theme of Nicholas Cloud's and Willow Halfmoon's love story.

Upon hearing it, she'd find herself humming to it; other times, she'd sing it. The words were easy enough for anyone to follow:

And then he'd find his Heart

in her smile, in her eyes

And he'd never want to part

Because forever he'd want to be tied

with his Heart

with his Heart

with his Heart

She caught Mathias next to her dazedly murmuring the words, and she nudged him to get him out of his stupor.

His eyes widened for a second and then flickered over to her just as he straightened in his seat. A hand went to adjust his wig as he said, "What?"

Celia set her hands in her lap, clenching them into fists. She didn't forget the perplexed expression on his face when he'd first come over. He hadn't said a word to explain his confused state since sitting down, and his putting off the topic was starting to worry her. That, and the stricken look in his eyes when they'd first met hers.

She said, "You rushed over to me about ten minutes ago, saying you had something to tell me, but all you've been doing is singing."

His composure, once relaxed, now stiffened before he rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. "Right." Just before Celia opened her mouth to say something, he turned to face her completely. "Do you know someone named Lena?"

Lena. The name didn't strike any personal familiarity in Celia but she couldn't ignore how Lena somewhat reminded her of Magdalene. She couldn't ignore the way her skin felt like something was crawling all over it. She kept herself from shuddering when she said, "No."

Mathias stared at her, and Celia hoped it wasn't because he noticed the shudder she now failed to hold back. If he noticed anything, he didn't make it clear in his face. He looked away before simply saying, "I think she's new to Terran, but she said she knew you."

Celia felt herself stiffen at the last part of his sentence. She said she knew you. She couldn't help the hopeful excuses that flooded her thoughts: maybe this Lena was confusing her for another Celia. Maybe this Lena had taken one too many sips. Maybe this Lena was not paying attention to her own words.

In her mind, though, the sickening voice of fear whispered, Or maybe this Lena is Magdalene, trying to get close to you through your friends.

Suddenly, Celia's throat felt tight. Her hands reached for her glass, and she took a long swallow, hoping to get past the lump in her throat.

She doubted Mathias missed this reaction. Because his tone was careful even as he spoke: "Celia. Do you know Lena?"

She too would be careful when she answered: "I'd have to see her." Celia almost tsked herself. What she said sounded like a promise, but she hoped she could avoid the night having to do so. She briefly considered leaving altogether. Before ever having to come across this Lena, if possible. But she wouldn't — couldn't — worry herself over something that wasn't proven yet. She'd drive herself crazy doing so, and up until now, she was doing okay.

She was in possible danger, yes, but there was no guarantee that she was. Just subtle, impossibly unbearable hints.

Celia took a deep breath, and the motion relaxed her for a moment. She would and could not forget her mother's bravery for standing up to the witch in her defense. She would have trust that her mother's words would halt Lady Magdalene in pursuing whatever plans involved Celia, or at least make her hesitate in going through with her plans.

Mathias nodded. Celia wondered what was going through his mind. She also started to wonder what this Lena might have said to Mathias to make him study her in the way that he did.

She worried it wasn't good.

He portrayed nothing of the sort, though. He said, "All right." His tone made it sound like he was through with the topic, and Celia almost allowed herself to sigh until he said, "I was only asking because, well, she said she knew you. And I thought it could have been possible with how your mother works with the governments of the other settlements, and that you may have come cross her in some of her meetings." His fingers clasped each other and he set them on his lap before he glanced at her.

She knew she shouldn't want to ask questions. She knew she shouldn't want to ask about this Lena.

But the urge to dug into her like the talons of a desperate bird digging into its prey. Attempting to go for casual, she asked, "Where did you last see this girl?"

He was staring ahead now, watching the pairs of folk dancing in tune with The Mage and his Heart. Their movements were just like the song: slow, delicate, and carefree. Celia almost she wished that she could, at least in this moment, pretend she was like them. "Just before I came to you."

Celia swallowed. She couldn't let herself worry over something she wasn't sure about. The end result would only be dizzying. "So she just came up to you and randomly said she knew me?"

He shook his head. "No. I approached her. We made small talk, and then somehow we started talking about you. I don't remember how. Or even why. But she told me she knew you and asked if I'd seen you around." He paused. "I told her I hadn't seen you arrive yet. But I was sure she suspected that I was lying. I didn't back down though. I kept insisting that I hadn't seen you."

The words should have placated Celia, but they hadn't. It only made her more suspicious of this Lena and just why she was so concerned about her presence.

She was about to speak before Mathias continued with, "She let the topic go, but I could tell she still wanted to ask about you. But, Celia." He looked at her now, and the sight stunned her: Mathias's face was grim, and there was a sort of steady firmness that went along with it. She'd never seen Mathias as serious as now. "If you come across her, avoid her."

Celia's heart began to thump faster. She knew she should stop asking questions, but she continued anyway. To know as much about this Lena as she could — before she could ever come across her. "Do you really feel this way over one conversation with her? Do you know what you're hinting at, Mathias?"

"I do," Mathias insisted. "It wasn't just the conversation. It was this... aura she had around her." He paused. "I didn't notice it at first. But then I started feeling it when she started grabbing at my arm. Sometimes at my hand. Then I felt it: this feeling of... dread."

This aura. Celia couldn't imagine such an aura. Especially one that'd make someone feel something as somber as dread.

"Dread?" Celia repeated.

"I don't know how else to describe it," Mathias said. "But I do think that you should leave early."

The suggestion surprised her, but she couldn't deny the relief it provided her. She'd hoped to hear this from someone — if not from her cowardly self, then from someone who cared about her. A friend.

Still, she couldn't help but fret over other aspects. She said, "I can't. Not yet. I rode with Noelle in her family's carriage. They're not set to come back until midnight."

Mathias nodded, his face taking on a look that said he was contemplating over something. Then he finally spoke. "My rider is still outside," he said, his words spoken carefully, as if he were still thinking them out. "I told him to wait for me just in case I'd want to leave early, but I never stay till midnight at these things. You should go with him. Just tell him I sent you."

She didn't miss the way her heart slowed just a bit in response to his words. The relief swarming her insides felt heavy, and she knew she should have let herself bask in it, but, again, the fretful side of her took over. "But shouldn't I find Noelle? She came with me, remember?"

"She's not the one in danger," Mathias said. "You are. I'll keep an eye on her. But I'd avoid leaving through the front door. She was still hovering over there when I left her. Do you remember there being any other exit here?"

At the question, Celia thought back to her days when she'd spend time at the Chancellor's home with the other officials' children. During their time, she never remembered venturing too far off from the playroom they'd first be stowed away in.

It was too hard to keep the defeated edge off her voice when she replied. "I don't."

"Damn," Mathias said. He paused for a few seconds. "Passing by some folks, I did hear something about a walkway in the garden that lead to the front of the home. Maybe you can — but who's to say it actually exists?"

A spark of hope lit up in her at the words. "It's worth a shot," Celia said. Nothing in her memories served them any use; though they were the words of gossipy folks, she'd at least try to go by them. It'd give her a reason to do something instead of sitting around.

He looked at her intently. "All right. Then go through the door that leads to the back garden, and then circle around to the front. Where the riders are parked. You'll find Jeffry hanging out there with the other riders."

This all felt a bit surreal. She was running — from something, or someone, that she hadn't even seen yet. But this was Mathias talking — despite his characteristically joking nature, the looks and touches he gave her seemed so completely unlike him. She didn't think this would be something he'd joke about. Especially if he's offering her his ride to leave the estate.

She stood, but not before looking down at him. She saw his lips press together, in a small, hopeful smile, just as he mouthed, Go. She offered him a solid nod before gathering her skirts.

To reach the gardens, she had to cross the dance floor, and to the only exit of the room. She remembered the home's layout well enough: upon exiting the ballroom, she'd head left, down the hallway and to the double doors that lead to the gardens. She only hoped no one would care enough to follow her out.

She moved, making sure to avoid brushing against the many people milling in and out of the room. "Excuse me," she said, slipping past a dancing couple and then an elderly man. Her eyes sought the doors that led to the gardens.

Upon reaching the doors, Celia opened them. The chill of the air swept over her, but it wasn't enough to seep into her bones and make her shudder. She clutched the shawl around her body as she walked past the groups of people making good company with each other, laughing and eating and talking. Doing the kinds of things she'd hoped she'd let herself fall prey to instead of worrying herself over a flame-haired witch with a voice full of secrets.

Lady Magdalene. She'd made sure to keep on the lookout for her, from the moment she first left her house to now, but had found no trace of her. The finding would have been comfortable to her had she not been sensible enough to know that witches like Lady Magdalene could keep themselves hidden from foolish human girls like Celia. She didn't pretend that she was safe even as she looked at every woman she'd come across with a sort of scrutiny one would not deem casual. She'd surveyed their faces for familiarity: for a hooked yet oddly graceful nose, secretive eyes that dared you to explore them, or a wispy smile that spelled only mischief.

Luckily — or rather unluckily, if Lady Magdalene had somehow disguised herself, fooling Celia into thinking she was safe — she felt no sense of familiarity, nor had she found any such traits.

Still, the nagging feeling of hopelessness had followed her throughout the night, even as she now moved into the gardens: a labyrinth of flowers and bushes and charming lamp posts.

And directly in front of her: a fountain with water that glittered even under the moonlight.

Moving towards it, Celia gripped the edges of it, taking a moment to compose herself. Her eyes looked ahead and sought for a walkway. Confusion filled her as she found not only one walkway, but six. She briefly searched her memories for anything Mathias might have mentioned for a special walkway she was supposed to follow. But seeing six different walkways, all curving and twisting in different manners, ahead of her, she couldn't remember anything that'd prove to be useful.

Steps sounded from one of the walkways, and Celia waited until she saw its owner: a man clad in a black servant uniform she recognized from the many servants in the home. He was brushing his suit just as he lifted his head, which adorned not only a tall hat, but a masked face that featured outrageously rosy cheeks and a jagged smile. She could see that he had eyes through the eye slits, but not much more than that.

There was no telling of what he actually looked like. Just a shock of white hair that, from where she stood, looked like the whitest hair she'd ever thought existed. It looked more lifelike, more realer than any of the wigs she'd seen the Nicholas Clouds insides sporting.

Something nagged inside of Celia that suggested that this man wasn't sporting a wig, but she ignored it. No one's hair could be that white, she thought, just as he ran a hand through it, and in response, her fingers dug into her gown, fighting the urge to roam through his hair themselves. No one, she thought again, though this time more ferociously.

Once he caught sight of her, he straightened his stance, trading his once-casual one for a professional one. Moving until he stood a few feet in front of her, he offered a quick bow before asking, "Are you lost?"

If Celia were under normal circumstances, then she would have gladly replied in an honest fashion, explaining whatever possible normal dilemma she may have been dealing with and asked for directions. And he, also under normal circumstances, would have kindly offered his help, and possibly even walking her to her destination. She wouldn't feel worry or fear or anything of the horrible feelings she'd usually deny herself of feeling.

But Celia was not under normal circumstances: a witch was after her — whether for her life or her blood or her heart in a bottle — and she prayed for nothing more than freedom from this witch's grips.

It wasn't like she could have easily explained such a situation to a casual passerby like this servant without earning a funny and possibly pitiful look. This is Terran, he'd say. You shouldn't fear those kinds of things. He'd speak carefree words, words she'd mentally hiss at, words she'd shake her head hopelessly to.

So when she felt the inexplicable need to lie to this person, she gave into it. Her voice steady, she said, "I'm looking for my friend. I was tipped off that she went this way, and through a certain walkway that leads to the front of the home." She surprised herself by even throwing in what she believed to be a casual laugh. "I'm just having trouble finding it." There. She believed she spoke confidently enough. There had been no telling delays or cracks in her words.

Her confidence dwindled a bit when, through the eye slits, she caught the way he narrowed his eyes, almost as he were speculating her. And from this distance, she could also also see that his eyes were gray — no silver, like the ends of his hair caught in the light of a nearing lamp post.

Then, surprising her, he spoke in a sort of kind, forgiving voice, "I'm sorry to say this, but you were given false information, dear. Beyond here, there is no walkway that leads to the front of the Chancellor's home. These walkways simply lead to other parts of the garden." He inclined his head a bit, his eyes still on her. "Your friend would not have gone this way."

False information? Had Mathias lied to her about hearing such rumors? It didn't seem possible. Especially not after Mathias had actually sat down with her and urged her to leave the party in his sternest voice He'd never do a thing under any other circumstance. He'd never do such a thing out of jest. He wouldn't gain anything from her leaving.

Right?

Nevertheless, she insisted with her lies. She'd choose her friend's words over a stranger's. In her politest voice, she said, "I'm sure she went this way, so I'd still like to look for her."

The servant said nothing before nodding. "I understand. You want to assure your friend's safety. It's admirable, I'd say, in this day."

The way he spoke made it seem like he'd had some experience himself. She couldn't help being curious, saying, "In this day?"

He drew his arms behind him in a formal position and said, "Based off of what my grandfather used to tell me as a boy, is what I mean. I tend to speak like him if I'm not careful enough. It confuses people, just as it did you." His tone suggested an amusing one, but there was a sort of awkwardness to it — almost as if he'd never suggested an amusing thing in his life.

Celia nodded, but she didn't know why she felt like there was more to what he was saying. But she'd let it go. He'd be out of her presence soon enough.

Outstretching his hand, he turned his body and made room for her to walk past him. He bowed his head once more, silently prompting her to go. She nodded again before moving past him, not missing the way the tips of his fingers merely brushed against her arm.

She took a couple of steps before pausing. A feeling dug inside her, one that felt as if something was pulling at her, tethering itself to her, before the feeling disappearing altogether. She didn't understand it but she didn't want to give herself time to understand it. She had to keep moving.

After all, what she felt was nothing. It had to be nothing. She couldn't worry about anything more than Lady Magdalene and a girl named Lena that could possibly be Lady Magdalene herself in disguise. The image in her head, a girl transforming into the witch, did nothing but chill her to her bones, more so than any frost night could.

She had no time for dawdling around. I have to move fast.

But just as she took a few more steps away, she heard the servant call out, "Excuse me."

Celia paused for a moment, turned halfway, and noticed the way the servant was completely facing her now. And, somehow, was closer to her than before.

The mask was still on his face, hiding whatever expressions he was making with his face. She resisted the urge to fling it off his face, but she had an idea the repercussions would not be favorable.

"Yes?" she said. She tried hard not to make herself sound impatient. She didn't want to give this man a reason to speculate her even further.

"Perhaps," he said, in a polite voice, one that did sounded not unlike the one she'd used on him, "I can walk you."

The proposal gave her a mild surprise, but she couldn't say she didn't expect it. She knew there'd be someone that cared — or was curious — enough to follow her.

But that didn't mean she'd like for someone to. She said, "I'm fine."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and Celia was about to turn away, unperturbed, before he continued. "There are multiple paths to go through, to look for the one that'd lead you to the front of the home, and they're all terribly confusing," he said. "You wouldn't do your friend any good wandering aimlessly."

For some reason, the need to feel compliant overcame her and her senses. It bothered her, and she fought against that need. And, for this moment, she won: "I'm fine. I'd be useful enough. You'd be wasting your time, considering you said yourself there was no walkway that leads to the front."

"Perhaps I was testing you," he said.

She didn't consider this. But that was mostly because she assumed the servants of a grand man like the Chancellor would go for honesty and not for lies they'd like others to solve through.

Perhaps he was testing her.

Still, she couldn't waste any more time, which was exactly what she was doing right now. "You know what? It doesn't matter if you were testing me or not."

"No?"

"No," she repeated. "Because I'm leaving regardless. I need to find my friend. " She mentally gave herself points for throwing her lie back in.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I'd like to accompany you, anyway. The master wouldn't be pleased if he'd heard I left one of his guests unattended in his confusing garden. I'll help you to your destination and see you off."

He didn't have to know her true plan. Because once she'd reached the front of the Chancellor's home, she'd find some way to direct his attention back to the party. It sounded like a simple enough plan, and if she trusted herself, trusted her instincts, she'd be able to see it through successfully.

"Fine," she complied.

He moved forward until he stood by her side, a great distance between them. As they moved, something struck her: "You know, I don't know your name. I figure if we're going to be passing through six walkways together, we might as well know each other's names." She meant it in a joking way; she didn't expect for the servant to comply. They were known for their anonymity.

So it didn't surprise Celia greatly when the servant didn't say anything for a moment, but it did once he said, "Sebastian."

Sebastian. It was an old name, one like her own. His parents must have been the traditional sort.

Like Mother, she thought. "I'm Celia," she said.

His head lowered almost as if he were looking down at her, and Celia imagined his face to be holding a pleasant smile. But imaginations only went so far. "It is nice to meet you, Celia." He sounded pleasant enough in his response.

She wouldn't mind this servant. Sebastian, she quickly reminded herself. He could venture her through these walkways more easily than she ever could on her own. And hopefully one would be her ticket to freedom, if only for a short moment.

***

I don't know what to think about this but I will admit I did like writing this part a lot more than the last (even though I love the last part; curse you, Magdalene, for conflicting me so). Forgive me for the incredibly cheesy song lines. I want you to know that I cringed writing them (yes, just as you cringed while reading them) but I had this inexplicable need to include them (just as Celia felt the inexplicable need to be a huge liar to Sebastian). 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway. I know it's very long but I didn't want to break it up into different parts because it all goes together, and also because breaking it up would break me (because I spent so long slaving over it as a happy family, so. yeah). Feel free to leave constructive criticism. I'd greatly appreciate it.