Black Lace (Complete)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Chapter Nineteen

"Tell me a story, mama."

It was late evening. Curled into her mother's side was Little Romina, toes tucked under her knees, shoulders covered by thick wool blankets. A raging fire crackled in the fireplace by their side, casting the ebb and flow of dancing red lights all across the dark room.

Thunder crashed outside.

The mother kissed the top of the girl's head, hugging her tight. There may have been a storm outside, but the only storm she feared was the one inside her heart. It didn't matter the cost: she would protect her daughter from the storm.

"Which one do you want me to tell you, sweet girl?" The mother asked softly, resting her chin on her daughter's head.

Little Romina smiled in her mother's secure hold. "A new one." The little girl paused and thought for a moment further, wrinkling her little nose. "No...yes. A new one. But make it real, mama. Make it true."

The mother laughed. "I don't know many real stories, dear. Can't we just read a fairytale again?"

"No." The girl insisted stubbornly. "I want a princess, mama. I want a real one. With the jewelry and the gowns and the princes"

The mother sighed. She knew there was no convincing her daughter otherwise. It was one of her few flaws: stubbornness. Not to be misunderstood—she loved her daughter more than she loved herself—but seeing flaws in her daughter that she knew would get her killed wasn't a good thing.

"Speak softly, Romina." The mother emphasized, speaking quietly herself.

The girl's shoulders shrunk. "I'm sorry, mama. Can you still tell me the story?"

The mother began bobbing the little girl lightly on her knee, bumping her up and down. It was a movement that calmed them both. "Yes, Romina. But you must listen carefully, alright? This princess is locked far, far away. Her story has only been told once, by my own mama." Little Romina turned her eyes upwards, eyes widened in awe. "Yes, darling." A smile came to the mother's lips as she spoke, weaving a tale with her words that went by her daughter's criteria: it was about a princess, it was new, and, most importantly, perhaps, it was also true.

"Many, many years ago, a beautiful young princess was locked away in her room by her Father. For safety. For protection. But you know what was the most dangerous part of it all?"

The little girl sucked in a breath and shook her head rapidly.

The mother's lips pulled so wide into a smile, she couldn't contain a small laugh. "The danger wasn't in the walls, it wasn't in the guards, and it wasn't in her room. The danger was what was outside, and you can only be harmed by what you do not know."

"Then why didn't her Father let her out of her room?" Little Romina asked.

"Because, sweet girl, he knew what was outside. And the princess's vulnerability was exactly what made her so beautiful. He didn't want to take her beauty away."

The little girl frowned. "How does being weak make you beautiful?"

The mother kissed her daughter's head once more, repeating the very words she'd once heard as a child, whose mother had also been told by her mother and her mother before that. "I don't know, Romina. I don't know."

"If you don't know...then isn't that also dangerous?"

"Oh, you little gremlin, you." The mother flicked her daughter's nose lightheartedly, pinching her ear in a teasing manner. Thunder cracked loud outside, shuddering the walls of the massive estate. The pair jumped in place, heart beats racing.

"What was that, mama?" Little Romina asked.

"I...I don't know." The mother admitted. "But come back into my lap, darling. It's safe inside, where your Father's walls protect us." The little girl went back into her lap. "Where did we leave off, again?"

The little girl told her mother where they'd left off, but her unanswered question lay dry on her tongue. Why does the unknown hurt us? And why don't you know, mama?

It took the girl a few years to understand this, but she never got her answer. Instead, she learned.

She learned that some questions weren't meant to be answered.

And some questions weren't meant to be asked at all.

It was another stormy night.

When the sky cried, and angry bolts of lightning rained down on the world below, I could not help but feel the inescapable embodiment of fear.

But despite this fear, it was on nights like these that I felt truly safe.

Two days had passed since I last left my room. I was playing on my fake illness in hopes of not leaving my room. I didn't want to face Aziel, hell, I couldn't. Father was fine with me not leaving my room, and Mother had been avoiding me since she'd said what she'd said. I'd had lots of time to think over her words: I've given you a chance, Romina. Thinking for hours and hours into the late of night hadn't helped me decode her words, and I feared it never would.

A chance for what? To marry at an older age? To leave? My brows pulled together and I pulled my sheets higher up my body. I was in scrambles for some reason. My heart hurt, my eyes were sore from crying, and my lungs were scraped raw from choked sobs.

I did not know what had made me so sad. But whatever the cause, Father was right: I was weak. Venturing out past the boundaries Father had set for me had only resulted in my injury. Next time I disobeyed, I feared the punishment would be worse.

And, as if even my mind were mocking me, Aziel still hadn't appeared in my dreams. Maybe he had, and I just didn't remember it. But the place between my legs wasn't warm and wet every morning, and when I woke up I wasn't about to scream his name.

"What is going on with me?" I asked myself. I stared intently at the floor before my bed. A flash of lightning lit up my room, sending harsh shadows—those that resembled demons, my worst nightmares—scattering across the room. I jumped in place.

Behind me, I heard footsteps.

I knew very well who was walking behind that damned wall. I could picture his tall frame in my mind, long legs stalking around the room. He would have his large hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes would be downcast, set, and angled—handsome, perhaps. But not handsome in an angelic way, no. His beauty did not make you coo. It made you sin.

It made you bad.

Slowly, I heard him exit his room. The clack-clack of his shiny shoes hit the floor as he walked down the hall. To my room. They stopped. In front of my door.

I held my breath and wrapped my arms around my knees as I heard the door knob turn. The warm light from the hall filled my room just a crack. My eyes squinted as his figure stood in the doorframe, haloed by the light. I could feel his intense stare on me, so I turned my face away and looked out my window. I tried to drown out whatever words might have left his sinful lips with the steady sound of wind-beating-on-window, but I knew my efforts to be a farce when he spoke, revealing his low and gravelly baritone to my ears.

"Romina..." He started soft, but there was an underlying threat in his words. One I did not yet recognize the origin of. One I wasn't sure I wanted to. My fists tightened on the sheets as he continued. There was a growl in his tone. Ferocious. Beastly.

"Tell me—no, please explain, Romina: why the hell aren't you asleep?"