Page 66 of The Pureblood Princess
The paths are completely overgrown, and withered vines lined with thorns snake up the exterior of the manor, as if nature is slowly reclaiming the structure as its own. What must have once been a majestic estate is now draped in a pall of darkness, frost, and abandonment. Nadia gazes at it, her heart racing with a storm of emotions.
The manor seems to beckon, and Nadia draws nearer, Theodore and the horses trailing behind her. She steps over the snowy tangled paths, careful not to get snagged in the thorns, and ascends the stairs to the entrance. Her fingers brush the icy stone of a pillar, and she shivers.
What would it have been like to grow up in this place, to know who she was from the very beginning? Would she have frolicked in the well-tended gardens with her mother? Run through the woods with her father? Would she have had siblings with whom she could’ve grown up?
A deep sense of melancholy and longing settles over her, and she wishes she had more of a connection to this place, to this aspect of her heritage that is completely unknown to her.
Taking a breath, she reaches for the handle on the heavy oak door, and it swings open smoothly, as if the house wishes to welcome her home after so many years of being away.
Theodore secures the horses beneath the crumbling portico, then ascends the stairs behind Nadia, his gentle nod urging her on.
With a breath, she steps through the darkened doorway, and inside, the manor is a world frozen in time. Dust motes dance in the feeble beams of twilight that manage to slip through the grimy windows, and the frigid air is heavy with the scent of decayand age. The foyer lacks any sort of furniture or décor, and Nadia wonders what happened to it.
Did the Kazamirs take that too, in the way they take anything they think should be theirs?
The thought sends rage rippling over her skin, and when she glances down, she finds her hands lost in shadow. It takes a steadying breath to send the darkness away once more.
“Where should we start?” Theodore asks. He stands beside her, his shoulders squared and his green eyes narrowed as they sweep about the foyer.
His scent is calming, and Nadia drifts nearer to him, if only to remind herself that he’s here and real and alive. There was a time in that tiny basement prison when she thought she may never again lay eyes upon him, and now that she has, she never wants to be parted from him for as long as she lives. The very thought of being torn from him makes her ache deep in her bones.
Her silence prompts him to turn, and he tips his head curiously. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sorry.” She tears her gaze from him and takes a steadying breath. “In the dream, my mother was in a bedroom.”
“The bedrooms are this way.” Theodore gestures to the dual staircases twisting from the entryway to the second story.
Nadia nods and sets off across the dusty foyer, looking about for anything that may hint at the life her parents shared here. But everything feels lifeless, forgotten.
Dead.
Behind her, Theodore sighs. “Contessa and I used to play here when we were young and our parents brought us to visit. It’s hard to remember now... It feels like so long ago.”
Halting at the bottom of the staircase, Nadia turns to regard him. “If our parents were so close, did we ever meet?”
A small smile touches his lips. “I believe I met you once when you were very small.” He reaches for her, his fingers entwining with hers. His thumb trails across the back of her hand, the touch somehow keeping her grounded in this moment.
“Had things been different,” Nadia whispers, “would the bond have been the same?” She looks up at him, and a streak of fear goes through her. Had Lord Gray never killed her parents, would Theodore have bonded with someone else?
He must see the distress in her eyes, for he leans down and presses a kiss to her mouth. His lips are warm, and he smells of the cold evening air. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead momentarily against hers. “Of course. You were meant for me the moment you opened your eyes,iubit. We just would’ve known earlier, as soon as you came of age.” He pushes a hand through her hair. “You must stop worrying. I amyours, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She lets out a trembling sigh, then takes his hand and kisses his palm. “I’ll try,” she whispers.
Casting her gaze to the second floor, Nadia steels herself. Each step is coated in a thick layer of dust, and her boots leave footprints as she climbs the stairs to the second story.
At the top, Nadia pauses, glancing down the halls to her left and right.
“I think it’s this way,” she says, veering left, though she has no way of knowing why she’s so sure. They walk down the silent hall, their steps echoing as they click lightly against the hardwood floor. Even the second floor is completely devoid of decoration, as if the family who lived here packed up all of their belongings and vanished without a trace. It feels lonely, and it stirs deeper anger within Nadia’s belly.
If this, too, is the Kazamirs’ doing, she will make them feel her rage, herdespair.
But for now, she takes a breath and holds her shadows at bay.
Nadia leads the way down the hall, and when she comes to a closed door, she feels drawn to it, as if a tether connects her to it and is tugging her ever closer. The white paint is cracked, the door handle tarnished, and though Nadia can’t recall ever having been here before, it feels familiar somehow. With a trembling hand, she reaches out and tries the handle.
The door creaks open, and Nadia gasps.
Unlike the rest of the house, this room is in utter chaos. The faded wallpaper has been partially torn from the walls, and the furniture is overturned. Papers and an assortment of belongings are scattered across the floor, and something in particular catches Nadia’s eye.
