Page 31 of Grotesque Love

With all my strength, I fight against the binds, moving slowly towards her. Each step feels like agony, but it eventually eases asthe sun sinks lower and lower until I can crouch beside her with ease.

Unable to help myself, I reach out and run my hand over her silky tresses, letting my fingers sink into her white-gold locks as I stroke the length.

Her hair is so long. So beautiful and mesmerising. I can understandhisfascination with it, but that’s where our similarities die. I would never pressure Ari to cut her hair. I love it wild and untamed. I know that there’s a spirit to match locked inside her, and I long for the day she’s able to unleash that part of herself.

Until then, I’ll watch over her and protect her, until she can stand up for herself.

CHAPTER TEN

ARIANWEN

Asoft breeze caresses my cheek, stirring me from my slumber. I blink groggily, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the canopy of trees surrounding me. Moonlight shines bright and bold through the shards of stained glass that remain, and it’s breathtaking in its beauty.

As consciousness gradually returns, I become aware of a gentle weight on my chest and a sweet scent filling the air.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I sit up slowly, my senses coming alive with the awareness that something has changed. My fingers instinctively reach for the source of the weight on my chest, and I find myself smoothing down a delicate braid woven through my hair, adorned with tiny flowers that shimmer in the soft light.

Confusion mingles with wonder as I gaze at the intricate braid, my mind racing. Who could have braided my hair while I slept? And why?

It’s beautiful.

A work of art in itself without the flowers decorating it. I run my fingers along the smooth strands of the braid,marvelling at the skill and care that must have gone into creating such a complex masterpiece. It must have taken the person hours. It’s far more detailed than anything my mother ever managed, and yet, at the same time, I feel closer to her.

The delicate scent of the wildflowers mingles with the earthy aroma of the moss on which I made my bed, creating a curious combination that fills the air around me. As I continue to examine the design, a sense of awe washes over me. Whoever braided my hair did so with tenderness and care. But who would have done that for me?

Nothim. Carver would sooner take shears to my hair than willingly plait it, and I can’t see the groundsman doing this with his dirt-stained calloused hands. I shudder at the thought of either of them being so close, grooming me while I was out cold to the world.

But aside from the three of us, we’re alone out here. Lost in thought, I rise to my feet and let the hefty braid fall down my back. My fingers move upwards and I realise that some of my hair has been woven gently around my head like a crown of sorts. Combined with the overly feminine dress, I’m beginning to feel more like a princess locked away by her evil step-father each day. Would mice start doing chores and making my food soon?

As the braid sways gently with my movement, I make my way towards the broken entrance of the chapel, my mind still spinning with questions and possibilities. The delicate scent of the wildflowers lingers like a comforting presence.

With each step into the ruins of the chapel, the light seems to shift. Shadows and thin shafts of moonlight dance around me, mixing with the faded hues of glass, casting strange patterns on the dusty floor.

For a moment, it’s as if the chapel itself is alive, calling out to me, whispering secrets that only I can hear.

A sudden gust of wind sweeps through the crumbling ruins, sending the remains of the stained glass tinkling across theground. I shield my eyes from the debris, as I strain to listen over the sound of my erratic heartbeat.

Could someone else be here with me, lurking in the darkness? Or is this a trick of the wind in a long forgotten place and the overactive imagination of an eighteen-year-old girl?

Putting aside the panic rising in my chest, I take a step back towards the trees. Towards the little cemetery with the gargoyle. Towards the path back to the manor. I need to find my way back, and then I’ll be safe.

My foot catches on a stone and I stumble, but as I straighten, something out of the corner of my eye makes me freeze.

Wait.

Was that…

I hesitate. Take a deep breath. Shake my head.

No, that’s crazy, Ari.

I push my irrational thoughts aside.

The stone statue…

No.

It must have been a trick of the light. The wind or something. Debris shifting. A dose of rationality is clearly needed here as my hands tremble, ever so slightly.

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