Hospital For Souls (M i c h a e l i s) [Kuroshitsuji 3]{Completed}

Chapter XII : One Broken Promise

I just had to start again.

I couldn't help it. I couldn't; the moonlight was perfect, and the temptation to begin the book that I had not held in my hands for years was much too great. When I opened it, onto the first page, I ran my fingers across the smooth, creamy paper; reveling in the sensation underneath my fingertips. It was so thick, thick and luxurious, reminding me of the hours and hours that I used to spend, curled up in library in my old home with a stack of books beside me.

Reading the opening lines of the preface was like slipping on an old, comfortable robe again, wrapping myself in the smell, the warmth.

"The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things..."

And I had no regrets, even though I was exhausted by the time that the dawn rolled around. Once the light begin to claw its way through the chink in the curtains, I knew that I should put the book down and try to sleep – so I slipped the hardbacked volume underneath my pillow. It almost seemed that I had only just drifted off when the bell that signalled ten-thirty sounded throughout the house, waking me with a disgusting, jarring scream.

Grace stirred sleepily in the bed beside me, stumbling out while I moaned a little and retreated underneath the covers again. Her feet hit the floor with a soft pad as I heard her retreating towards the washroom.

Ah, Grace. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, settling my nightgown appropriately, and climbed out of the bed myself, making sure to carry my newly-gained treasure with me tucked safely underneath my arm. The golden sunlight of the beautiful autumn morning filled the main hall, and made me smile. Oh, it was wonderful.

I clambered down the carpeted steps, my sights set on the parlour where I knew I could collect my breakfast. Ciel would still be in bed, his breakfast served to him by the butler.

Or so I thought. Once I shuffled inside, trying to make my messy black curls look a little tidier, Mey-Rin immediately seized me by the arms in a flurry of magenta hair and heavy navy fabric, and dragged me back into the hall.

"Mey-Rin--?" I began to say, a little shocked, but she shook her head.

"The young master wants to eat in the dining room with you today, Miss Celeste."

"Oh. Why?" Clearly confused, I tried to stop, but Mey-Rin just kept on walking.

"I don't know, but he said to bring you there as soon as you got up, Miss."

"I can find my own way." I put my hand on her arm and nodded, gentle. "Thank you very much."

"Of course. If you need anything--!"

"Course, course." I gave a little nod, and turned down the second hallway by myself, to where the dining room door was standing slightly ajar. So I knocked tenderly.

"Come in," the rich voice of Ciel Phantomhive told me, slightly muffled by something, and I entered.

He was sitting at the table in his nightshirt, inky hair tousled over his forehead, his black eyepatch lying on the table beside him coiled in its own strap. He appeared to be shovelling eggs into his mouth with such a ferocity that I thought he might choke; it seemed that Sebastian was also of that opinion, as he kept a watchful eye.

What was going on?

"Good morning," I said cautiously, sitting down opposite Ciel and crossing my legs, hoping that I appeared a little more 'pressed' than the good Lord Phantomhive.