I turned it over and grew hot with fury to see the seal already broken.
I hope this letter finds you well. Jurij’s birthday is next month. Enclosed is our wedding invitation. I hope you can come. His Lordship is welcome as well, if he would like.
I had to laugh at Elfriede’s attempts to act as if all was well. To her, perhaps it was. I was gone and out of her hair, after all.
My fingers ran over the embossed edges of the invitation. A wedding in the hills beyond our home in the first full month of spring. So it was only a month until the wedding now.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what I wanted. At the very least, perhaps I could look out my bedroom window and watch the specks of people gathering in the hills that day. But what would be more painful, to watch or not to watch? To celebrate a sister’s happiness or to keep pretending that happiness didn’t exist for others because it never would again exist for me?
But a thought struck me. I didn’t want to watch—I wanted to go. Not just to see if I could sneak to the pool and test my theory. Not just because any freedom, even for just a day, was better than whatever this was. A wedding may not be the best opportunity to air a deep and terrible secret, but Elfriede and Father at the very least owed me an explanation.
I would just have to do my best to pretend the groom wasn’t the only person I knew who made life worth living.
But to go would be to open my mouth.
But would an order to let me go, even if just for the wedding, incite his anger? I knew that it would. I would just have to find some way to pretend that I had no power over him and to ask permission. Even if it meant locking my feelings away.
***
Every second at dinner, my heart threatened to jump out my skin. From time to time, I would open my mouth to speak, only to quickly grab the goblet or fork and stuff wine or food in to silence myself. I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Still, it bothered me that he’d read the letter and still he didn’t say a word. He wasn’t the first to lapse into silence, but he wouldn’t be the first to speak.
I cleared my throat. The air felt like knives in my raw airways.
“I assume you read my sister’s invitation. The seal was broken.”
I hadn’t intended to start off so antagonistic, but I found the words and tone tumbling freely from my hibernated mouth. I stabbed at some meat and began chewing to cover some of my indignation.
A small cough came from behind the curtain, and a black glove reached for his goblet of wine. The goblet appeared again in view but remained cradled freely in one hand.
“Yes,” he spoke at last. “Her wedding is next week.”
The fork fell from my grip. “Next week? The letter says next month!”
“It is already the first full month of spring, Olivière.”
I bit down on my lip. Hard. If I hadn’t, I would have started screaming and said more than one thing I’d have regretted. Even if they would have satisfied me immensely before I later regretted them.
I grabbed my goblet from the table. After a large gulp of wine, I slammed it down.
“I would like to go.”
“You may not.”
My jaw dropped. Was the letter just to torture me, then? Why not just give it to me after it was over, and I had completely missed it? I tried to cover up my frustration by grabbing my napkin from my lap and wiping my face. At least the cover allowed my lips to turn freely into a sneer.
“And why not?” I asked.
The goblet disappeared behind the curtain for a while before reappearing, this time settling back on the table. The sip took far too long to be anything but intentional.
“You know why,” said the lord. A finger ran across the jagged edges of the crystal goblet. “Unless you intend to order me to let you go?”
I forced my mouth into a thin line before putting the napkin back on my lap. My eyes fell to the napkin, suddenly interested in seeing that I smoothed it just right.
“I thought not,” said the lord confidently.
“You may come with me,” I said quietly. “If you like.”
I didn’t know how I would speak to my friends and family alone if he were with me, but the distraction of the lord of the castle out among his people might provide enough cover for an opportunity or two.
The lord behind the curtain laughed. It may have been as close to a joyful laugh as he could muster, but I heard it laced with traces of ridicule and contempt.
“How very gracious of you!” he said. “But I am afraid the answer is still no.”
He stood up, his chair scraping backward. Some of the specters flew into motion, cleaning his dinnerware, putting on his veil and hat, and then settling against the wall as always.
“Good night, Olivière,” he said as he came around the edge of the curtain. “It has been a pleasure speaking with you.”
I stopped myself from saying something more explicit in response that would drip more venomously with that very same edge of disdain he displayed.
***