22| Confrontation

“My lady, how was your nigh…” Annie faltered, walking in to meet a sulking Mel.

“Horrible!” Mel snapped, flinging her arms up and dropping them with a slap at her thighs. “Just horrible.”

Annie paled, dreading the worst. She looked around the room, from the rumpled bed to her lady’s unruly appearance. What had gone wrong?

“Mel—”

“Where is he?” Mel marched towards Annie. “I want to speak with him.”

Annie stood, dumbfounded. She didn’t know what to make of this as she noticed the hurt expression on Mel’s face shift to fury.

“He didn’t do anything! He didn’t touch me. He wasn’t even here!” Mel grabbed her head.

Annie’s eyes widened like saucers, understanding dawning on her. “But—but as I… A while after I left, I…” Annie lowered her eyes. “I am ashamed of myself. The helpers had gone and after roaming the chambers and halls I could walk through, I went to my room and then came back to hear or see how you were doing. I was worried and I wanted to be sure you were alright…” Annie rambled, wondering if Mel could even see through her words. Her initial plan had been to knock at the bedroom door if she had suspected anything amiss or had heard her lady’s screams… anything that would at least indicate harm. That plan had been halted long before she could put it into action when she met with Bjorn in the hallway face to face.

All it took was one look. One look for him to figure out the thoughts that ran through her head. His intimidating presence had rooted her to the spot and it didn’t help that he was older than she was. She had lowered her gaze—along with her head—just to avoid his stoic face. That moment of silence had been one of the most excruciating she had ever experienced. It was as if she had been caught red-handed committing a heinous act.

His weary sigh had broken the silence, and with it, he walked past her, telling her in a low voice that he wouldn’t hurt Mel, and so she should not worry. Deep shame prevented her from moving even after the lord had stalked off and closed the bedroom door behind him. She had left for her chamber right after the sound of the door, silently berating herself for even presuming such a thing about the lord.

“You said he didn’t come?” Anne faced Mel. “I saw him enter the chamber. He woke up an hour or two ago.”

Mel went mute and she stared at Annie, perplexed. “You didn’t tuck me in last night?”

Annie slowly shook her head.

Mel frowned and bit the inside of her lip. So he had slept on the bed. “But he didn’t do anything!” she voiced, adamant.

“He didn’t?” Annie asked more to herself than to Mel, a slow dread finding its way into her stomach.

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Oh,” Annie breathed. Her mouth clamped shut, afraid to let Mel know she might have been a catalyst for Bjorn not doing anything to Mel. Back in Sprite, though it was superstition, it was not a good sign if the husband and wife did not consummate their union on the night of the wedding ceremony. When she had come to Grime along with Mel, she had discussed this briefly with Eustace and this has also been a part of the tradition in Orion. The only difference between the beast kin and the Sprites was that majority of the beast kin had their union based on love. Marriages to strengthen families were more common in Sprite than in any other nation.

Annie tried her best to calm Mel down, and as she attended to Mel in the bathing chamber, the young woman mellowed, and her quiet state disturbed Mel. After that, the helpers started filtering into the residence and prepared a meal for Mel, mutton soup, which she ate in the small dining hall alone.

She had been told Bjorn was in his personal study, but contrary to Annie’s expectation of Mel confronting her husband, she remained seated at the table, quietly eating her food. The helpers had surprised glances they occasionally threw at Mel, but she didn’t think much of it at the time.

“I’m going out for a run,” Mel murmured, dropping the mug of water on the wooden table.

“My lady!” Annie gaped. This woman was about to bring her bad habit into another clan. A civilized woman wasn’t supposed to be running wildly out in the open. “Think about your reputation. You can’t do this here—”

“I don’t care,” Mel grumbled, pushing back the chair and standing up. “And I doubt he’d even bother.”

As Mel left the small dining area, Annie faltered behind but she assured her maid that she didn’t have to follow her around. She then later regretted her words when she tried to look for the tunnel leading to the outside. Shame and pride at the same time held her back from looking for Annie and asking her for directions. And she was sure the maid knew Mel didn’t know the way out. The helpers had left right after serving her food. They wanted to wait behind and take care of the dishes, but Annie said she would do that.

Mel groaned and proceeded to look around her new home. It shouldn’t be that big, and with time she would surely find the way above ground. Although the manor wasn’t as big as her father’s, it was far more impressive—as much as she didn’t like to admit it. Winding hallways led to beautifully carved staircases and arched entrances. The stone parts of the chambers were well polished, had veins or grainy surfaces, and the most marvelous touch had been the crystals sticking out of the walls and ceilings. She managed to touch quite a few embedded into the lower parts of the walls where she could reach, and the crystals, though emitting a warm glow, were cold to the touch.

The majority of the doors were open and they led to small halls, guest chambers, a few libraries, and three kitchens. These chambers were all spotless and appeared to have been dusted that morning. She made her way up another set of stairs and stumbled into another wing. The crystals glowed a soft blue and quite a number of doors were locked.

The only door she managed to get open led to a dark hall. The crystals on the stone ceiling lit up, a soft white light filling the circular room. Mel paused at the entrance, eyeing the patterned layout of large portraits laid up against the wooden walls. Some of them consisted of whole family units while others included individual family members. There were so many unrecognizable faces, but what was most distinct was the white hair.

Awed, she stepped closer to the paintings, carefully inspecting the paintwork. She noticed a faint blue line in the wall connecting one portrait to another. She then saw that there were several of these blue lines connecting every single portrait into a complicated family tree.

Was that what it was?

Her trailing eyes halted at a portrait of Eustace. While her mother-in-law looked far younger, she wasn’t alone in the picture. A large man stood at her side, a calloused hand resting on her shoulder as her face housed a stoic expression, devoid of any emotion. If anything, it appeared as if she wasn’t regarding the man. He had a mane of curly white hair on his head, further enhanced by a large beard that concealed close to half of his face, along with thick white eyebrows. His blue eyes appeared to be almost white and they had a sinister gaze within them.

He looked cruel.

Mel shuddered. Why would her father dare to cross such a… beast.

She then noticed the small heads at Eustace’s chest. Two small heads.

A small Bjorn stared back at her, having the same features belonging to his father. His blue eyes were a shade darker and he had straight long hair, much as opposed to the low cut he had now. Confusion flickered on her face as she eyed the second boy beside Bjorn, his soft brown eyes wide with excitement.

Eustace had never mentioned having another child. And she hadn’t seen anyone remotely resembling this person since she had arrived. He had the same white hair as Bjorn, and as far as she had seen or heard, no other bear kin in Grime had white hair.

Discomfort ravaged her stomach. What if he was dead, and that death had to do with what her father had done?

She took a step back, but the boy’s jovial eyes remained fixed on hers. She couldn’t look away. It was far-fetched, but she had a strange inkling that her family played a role in whatever caused his absence. Or was she overthinking?

She lowered her head and clutched the skirt of her dress. No matter how accountable she wanted to be about the situation, she felt that she shouldn’t be the one to bear the brunt of what her father had done… whatever it was. She probably wasn’t even born when all of this happened, so why was her husband treating her like some pest?

Her mind flickered to how Bjorn had tried to make her comfortable with the blanket. She shrugged off the image. That was just him being polite.

*‘But he isn’t hostile either,'* she thought.


“Mel?”

Mel startled at the new presence, jerking her head in the direction of the entrance.