Page 128 of Hawthorne

“No.” He shakes his head in denial. “You’re staying–”

“Staying?” I laugh bitterly.

“Yes, this...this is y-your home! I-I can’t–”

“You think I’d ever stay after this? And what? Watch you get married and play house with someone else?”

“I can move out if–”

Is he so out of touch with reality?

“Even if you left, I wouldn’t bear living in this hell, where every corner reminds me of the man who destroyed my heart.”

As harsh as these words are, they give me a twisted sense of satisfaction when they make him stagger back. From the cornerof my eye, I watch Edgar wince, too, the only reminder that we’re not alone.

“Well, that’s my cue. Goodbye, Your Grace.”

With that, I turn and start to walk away. Before I can get too far away, one strong hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me back. It’s hot and comforting but also rushed and desperate. It burns the skin in such a torturous way that, for a split second, I almost forget.

But my heart is so shattered beyond repair that even the comforting sense of his skin upon mine sends my brain crawling the walls.

I yank my arm out of his grasp harshly and grit, “Don’t ever touch me again. Especially without my fucking permission.”

Just when Vincent’s mouth opens, Edgar’s hand pulls his shoulder back, grabbing his attention. The younger brother shakes his head, signalling him to let it go, and I am thankful.

As I resume walking, I whistle, and Primrose, who has been in my bedroom all this time, comes out, following me, happy and oblivious to all the havoc happening around her.

“Edgar,” I call. “Can you give me a ride? I can’t leave this place fast enough.”

He beams an, “Ay, Ay, Captain,” far too cheekily for the heavy tension around him in a failed attempt to ease it. I just nod weakly as I cross the long corridors towards the back exit with Prim’s little paws running after me. Soon enough, the second set of footsteps sounds behind me, and I am almost ready to turn around and lash out at Vincent—again—when Edgar’s voice sounds.

He rushes past me, opening the kitchen’s back door, allowing me to get out into the orchard. There, he waves an index in the air and announces, “I’ll be riding the pumpkin carriage so the princess can run away before midnight!”

His poor attempt at lightening the mood makes me crack an almost smile as my eyes keep burning from the inside-out.

“Thank you,” I whisper wholeheartedly.

39

Camilla White

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Harry greets Edgar and me as we enter his apartment with a bow. “It was the fastest way to receive you this late.”

We both nod in return, acknowledging his greeting. At this point, I question if that bow is still aimed at Edgar or me. The webs and lies of what these people made of my life have led me to question everything and everyone.

“I am sorry for the hour,” I excuse us, even though I don’t really mean it. “I am glad you could make it work.”

Edgar looks at me, questioning, but I ignore it, focusing on my goal for tonight. Aunt Lizzie’s letter was clear, and Harry was the only man who could help clear everything for me. Depending on what he says, I’ll decide how to go from here.

I know it is out of character, and that is why Edgar keeps silently watching me, but in my brain, it was either this or find a hotel room and cry myself to sleep.

As we enter, I notice his apartment isn’t small or old. It probably comes with being the lawyer for some of the mostimportant families in the realm. Walking across his sleek hall towards his office, I see one of the far back wooden doors.

Harry reaches it first, opening it for us, and it immediately feels like I am being transported to a different place. Unlike the sleek, modern apartment, the office is chaotic and stuffy. Tall stacks of papers are spread around the division, the biggest being over his desk.

“Sorry for the mess. I have been trying to reorganise. It’s been a while since it has been done, and I need to separate what’s to keep or destroy.” He chuckles, embarrassed.

By my side, Edgar is still quiet but looks around very often.

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