Ashes of Cinder

37

The bed creaked beneath you as you tossed and turned in discomfort. The night seemed to stretch on and on for an eternity, for sleep couldn't come fast enough. It was silent throughout the entire building, where it'd be easy to hear a pin drop. The mice scurried through the walls while the clock in the distance ticked in a rhythmic motion. You wondered what time it was. Blaise surely would've gone home by now, right? You were left alone in the shop, amidst the masses of shadows that sprung from the corners.

Turning to the other side to face the door of the room, you let out a yelp to see glowing red eyes digging into you. You flinched backwards to the wall, hitting your back against the hard surface. It was Veria, primly sitting there in a chair, with her legs crossed elegantly. She watched you with unblinking eyes. When did she get in here?

"Veria? What are you doing here?" you croaked out, rubbing at the sore spot on your body. You pushed yourself into a sitting position and reached over to the bed stand to light a candle up, but the little girl stopped you midway.

"Don't," she whispered, pushing your arm away from the matches. "There's no need. This will be quick anyway."

What did she want from you? Also, shouldn't she be home along with Blaise by now? The niece of the shop's owner spent quite a lot of time here for it to be normal. During your entire stay, Veria barely spent time with you, ignoring you. She obviously disliked you, but you never knew why. So it was strange to see that she was even addressing you at all, during a strange hour at that. You assumed it had to be pretty important then.

She took a deep breath and fumbled with her pink, silky nightgown nervously. Her pale cheeks tinged of pink, she looked rosy and beautiful just sitting there. She was flawless, but there was always something off about her. "Do you like Blaise?"

"What?" you stuttered, taken aback. That was the least expected question you thought to hear.

"You heard me."

Heat rising upon your own cheeks, you looked away in embarrassment. "Well... er- yes, I do. We are... dating now so it wouldn't make sense if I didn't like him."

"He's not who you think he is," she murmured, her hues turning glassy. "Listen to me, [Y/N]. Blaise is dangerous. He... he uses dark magic. He was the one who killed your family and in this moment, he is going to kill Prince Cameron. No, stay quiet and listen to my whole story first. You may think this is hard to believe, but your stepmother and stepsisters did not die from disease. It was poison instead... a murder. I would know... because I was the one who made the poison. When he heard you were getting mistreated by them, he was not going to let them get away with it. Ever since he met you, his emotions have gone haywire and he's been losing it. He loves you too much that he'd do anything."

She then continued on to tell the story behind Blaise and Prince Cameron's history. She told you about his plan to kill the Prince next with the dagger she created. You could only listen in pure horror as the truth spilled out. You didn't want to believe her, but everything about her said otherwise. Her posture, her eyes, and her tone of voice was terrifyingly genuine that even the best liar wouldn't be able to pull it off. She wasn't lying.

Tears fell from your [e/c] hues the more you believed her. Your heart squeezed in pain to know that the love you had for Blaise Wellington wasn't real. The past week had been a romantic fairytale, the two of you spending every second of the day together. Strolling through the parks near town, you giggled at the jokes he made and shared your own stories about your past. He kissed you at any chance he got, erupting butterflies in your stomach each time he surprised you. It was perfect and something you had yearned all your life. But... but to know he had done these deeds hurt you. Rosa would never see her stable boy again because of him. Prince Cameron made mistakes, but he didn't deserve to die. You couldn't stomach the idea of staying with a murderer who had hurt all of your loved ones.

Hugging your knees closed to your chest, you didn't know what to do anymore. Goddammit Blaise. He was supposed to be there for you, but he did the complete opposite. The girl frowned at your quivering state. "How you met Blaise wasn't a fated meet either. You were part of his plan, someone who he would discard immediately afterwards. However, that backfired and he fell in love with you instead," she softly informed. "He found you because of your father. Your father wasn't the good natured person you thought of him as either. He was a drunkard, going into bars to spend all your savings away. That was why you guys were ridden in debt."

"No, no, no!" you snarled, shaking your head madly. A pitiful cry slipped from your lips and the pain became overwhelming. This was the one thing you couldn't accept. Your father was the perfect father. There shouldn't be an ugly truth to this. His smile had brightened the entire room and his hugs were the warmest. He was the person who guided you through life and worked hard because he wanted the best future for you.

The blonde girl sighed and lowered her eyes to the ground, her lashes fluttering. "I'm so sorry... you can deny it all you want, but that doesn't change the cold truth. He went to Blaise's father, who was a debt collector and took out multiple loans, to which he never paid back. Years later, Blaise found the receipts of the exchange and found out that your father passed away, but had a daughter -- you. He decided you owed him and became included to his plan. If he hadn't fallen in love with you, you would be the one to kill Cameron instead."

She stayed silent and listened to the raw sound of your crying. This torment never seemed to stop. Why was that? Were you brought into this world just to suffer? How many times did you have to pick yourself up, only to stumble once more into the fire? You were tired.

You had to leave Blaise. Maybe you could go far away and never look back. Start anew and have a new identity.

Veria took something out and grabbed your right hand, her skin icy to the touch. She pressed something into your palm and you looked down to see it was a tiny vial, liquid bubbling within the container. Flickering back to her with a confused expression, you didn't know what to make of it.

"It's not poison," she said, reading your mind. "It's a sleeping potion. If you want to escape him, it'll be difficult. He's a clever man, so just running away won't do any justice. This will provide you an advantage if things get out of hand. It's also best you don't act rashly. Be patient and wait for the right time."

She was such a young girl, but she spoke like an adult. How was she so wise beyond her years? Sniffling and wiping your wet eyes in frustration, you gulped down the pain that begged to spill out again. "Why are you helping me? I... I thought you hate me."

Her fists clenched tighter on the fabrics of her nightgown and she looked to you with eyes swirling of hopelessness. "Because he will get rid of me soon. My fate may be determined already, but you're another story [Y/N]. I was a tool to these murders this whole time, but it would be wrong of me to sit back and watch you have your life ruined."

"He will get rid of you?"

The little girl jumped up from the wooden chair and stood up. "Don't worry too much about it," she brushed it off, padding her feet to the door. "I wish you the best of luck." She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, leaving you alone in the room with the heavy thoughts that weighed in your mind.

Blaise. Veria. Cameron. Rosa. Your father. Murder. Poison. Love. Life.

Hugging yourself, you sat there and pitied yourself while the tears flowed out from you once more. There were too many questions, the picture of truth becoming a kick in the gut. Oblivion would be better than this piercing reality, wouldn't it? It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Everything seemed to be beyond repair. You were losing your touch to the ground. Desperately trying to hold onto the thin string of hope, the fruitless grabbles for it were of no help.

You were scared of Blaise. Every inch of you shook at the thought of him looming over these dead bodies. His charming smile hid the venom that drowned him. The rosy image you had of him was shattering, breaking into a million pieces like the glass slipper at the ball. You had spent time with him, kissed him, loved him. If he loved you, he wouldn't have killed Rosa.

The more you dwelled on it, the more the idea seemed plausible. You came to the realization that he used magic on you on the night of the ball. The heels eating you away like a monster was no hallucination -- it had been real. You had lost conscious and magically appeared into the ballroom too. He tricked and hurt you. If he loved you, he wouldn't have done any of that.

If he truly loved you, you would've had the perfect life.