36 |Gifts from the Past|

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Rosalynde quickly filled the distance, her boots clacking against the stone path. She hadn't seen the boy in a long time, for the boy, per Cleia, had been adopted weeks before. But there was no way she was going to forget his devil-like hair.

She crouched down, brushing her gloves over his forehead as gently as she could. His head slipped from her grasp, her hands barely grabbing him before he hit the ground again.

Grey's footsteps were soon heard. He told her to stay aside and scooted beside her, seizing the boy's limp form.

"You know him?" He asked, whispering in the darkness.

He made out her nod, her lips pulled in a thin smile. Her eyes never left the boy's body. They didn't move him before making sure he was still breathing. Checking for any external injuries, they finally rolled him over.

Too many were the questions swirling inside Rosalynde's mind.

The boy shouldn't have been here, laying in an imperial greenhouse, unconscious and barely able to breathe. He should have been home, enjoying the warmth of the hearth close to his new family, shopping for new clothes that would have fitted him nicely, and trying dishes whose names he maybe couldn't even pronounce. All this close to his new mother.

He'd finally had the chance to truly start living his life. So why was he there?

Where was his new guardian? Close by? Had she followed his same fate? Was her body lying somewhere around there, still fresh and warm?

Even so, there was one that Rosalynde was sure of.

It was her fault. Her fault if the boy had been found there that night. He'd been noticed talking to her; this was no coincidence. It couldn't be one. Not this time.

The greenhouses around them seem to get darker. The feeble lights hanging close to the exit dimmed as a figure stepped inside, their appearance covered by a long, dark hood.

Rosalynde left the boy to Grey, who kept him close, hands under his armpits and knees. Ready to lift him up and run whenever the occasion would have presented itself.

"I wouldn't bother anymore if I were you. He's done for anyway. Whenever you like it or not."

Grey tightened his hold on the boy, bringing him close to his chest. He looked at Rosalynde from under his lashes, marvelling at how still she'd become. Her breath hitched, uneven.

"What do you mean?" He went for a distraction. Something to facilitate Rosalynde's hit. But she did nothing. Nothing at all.

She didn't drag her eyes away, nor did she move. Her body locked within something greater than physical restraints. The glasshouse dome seemed to grow brighter as the moon peered down at them, fighting off the shadows.

The hooded figure chuckled from under the hood. Staring at Rosalynde's indistinguishable expression as they got closer, footsteps resounding gentle against the cold stone.

A hand materialized from under the vest, sliding up before going to rest on both of Rosalynde's cheeks. Fingers threading lightly against her porcelain skin, red patterns appeared as the cold air bit against her cheeks. The hooded woman started lulling her, just as a mother would console her child after waking up from a terrifying nightmare.

"Look at you. Still acting like a child. It appears you need more lessons." The hooded woman sighed with resignation.

Shaking her head. She gave one last look at Rosalynde from under the hood before stopping her lullaby. Red polished nails pinched Rosalynde's cheeks until a smear of red tricked down her cheeks.

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