Doomed

*Rowan*

“Everything appears to be fine, Alpha,” James tells me again, standing off to the side in my sister’s room. He’s just finished examining Mara, and Wilma is attempting to chat with her as she sits near the window. “I agree she’s acting different than usual, but she’s been through a very traumatic experience. It’s natural for her to not quite be herself yet.”
“But she’s been back for days,” I remind him, “and she’s not getting any better. In fact, in some ways, she seems to be getting worse.” I run a hand through my hair and gaze over at my sister who is nodding at whatever Wilma is telling her, but the vacancy in her eyes is apparent even at this distance. “I just have a feeling they’ve done something to her.”
“Like what?” James asks, his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “Turned her into a zombie? Rebuilt her as a robot?”
I narrow my eyes at him. I can’t tell if he’s attempting to be funny and falling flat or if he’s making fun of me. “No, neither of those things. Could they have somehow convinced her that she’s not meant to be here? That we are awful or something?”
He shakes his head. “No, I doubt that. Brainwashing someone like your sister would be difficult.”
I rake my fingertips along my chin. I haven’t shaved in a day or two. All of my thoughts and actions have revolved around trying to help Mara.
Well, that and daydreaming about Hezzlie, but that’s only because the pain in my heart grows more intense by the day.
“What about magic?” I ask him.
Again, James is shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Are there witches in Darksky Castle? Other than potentially Hezzlie?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I tell him. “But we know there are witches–that they exist. Maybe he’s found one, and that one was able to cast a spell on Mara. Maybe she’s in a trance. That’s what she appears to be under.” The more I speak aloud about my theory, the more I convince myself that this is a possibility we need to take seriously.
“I don’t think your sister is in a trance,” James tells me, looking over his shoulder at her for a moment. “But I can do some research. Maybe we can find a witch of our own who can potentially help her if she is.”
“Fuck,” I murmur. The fact that he’s not telling me I’m a lunatic makes me think there’s even a better chance that Mara has been compromised.
“In the meantime, I suggest you try talking to her. She might be reluctant at first, especially if her experience there was painful. But if she talks long enough, she might come around. She might tell you what happened to her that left her so out of touch with the world.”
“All right.” I give him a dismissive wave and saunter over to where Wilma is talking about the work she’s been doing in the garden in her spare time. Since we let most of the staff go after the attack, she’s been doing a lot of work out there. She enjoys it.
“I think if we dig deep enough, we’ll find even more to uncover,” she’s saying. “I just can’t imagine what it might be.”
I don’t care about whatever she’s prattling on about, so I say, “Wilma, why don’t you bring the princess some tea.”
She immediately stops talking about whatever digging she’d been doing in the back of the mansion and says, “Yes, of course, Your Highness,” and off she goes.
I claim the chair next to my sister who doesn’t even blink for a good twenty seconds. “How are you, Mara?”
“Fine.” That one word response is probably all I’m going to get.
“How did you spend your time when you were gone?” It’s still hard for me to know what to call it. When she was a prisoner? When she was held captive? Gone seems fitting.
She doesn’t reply, only stares at her hands.
“Did you make friends?” I hope I don’t push her too hard and make her breakdown. “Maybe a maid or someone from the kitchen? Did you see people?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Did you have a nice room? Like this one?” I gesture around at her beautiful bedroom. We haven’t changed a thing since she left, and the housekeepers were so good about keeping everything clean. It might seem slightly juvenile now, in retrospect, since she was five years younger when she was taken, but the soft lavender duvet and curtains make the room feel airy and light–just like Mara.
Just like Mara used to be.
She doesn’t even move in response to my question, so I try another one. “How did you pass the time? Did you read a lot of books?” Mara always loved reading, something I only have time to do if it’s a report or something to do with becoming a better king. But she’d have her nose buried in a book quite often. Unless she was playing the piano.
An idea occurs to me. “Ah, music!” She looks at me then, her eyes glinting off mine but not quite meeting my gaze. “Would you like to go play your piano?”
Mara’s fingers begin to move in her lap, just slightly, as if she’s already placed them on the keys.
I get to my feet and gently take her arm. She doesn’t resist, so I help her up and don’t let go of her. In the hallway, on our way to the music room, I see Wilma bringing the tea. I’ve forgotten I even sent her for that, but it was more of a reason to get rid of her than any actual need for tea.
“Sorry, Wilma,” I tell her. “Change of plans.”
“Oh…” She looks down at the silver tray filled with tea and cookies. “I’ll just bring a new one later then.”
I leave her sputtering and continue to take Mara to the music room. When we walk through the door, I think she almost smiles. She walks over to the piano, letting go of my arm, and sits, raising the lid and staring at the keys for a brief second.
Then, she begins to play.
I recognize the tune immediately. It’s a song about a woman dragged away from her mate. She’s meant to marry an Omega warrior from a distant land, but her, the Alpha, refuses to let her. He rises up against the Alpha and conquers the kingdom, claiming her hand and revealing he should be the true Alpha King of his land, but sadly, she is killed in the melee. Our mother used to sing the melody sometimes when we were younger, but there’s no need to sing now. Mara’s fingers deftly move across the keys as the haunting sound fills the room.
When she reaches the end of the song, I clap. She raises her head and looks at me as if I’ve offended her. “That was beautiful,” I tell her, justifying my response “You’re so amazing. Can you play something else? Perhaps something a bit more upbeat.”
In response, she blinks at me and then returns her attention to the keys. She starts the same song over again. I let out a sigh and back out of the room. I’ll be able to hear her playing in my office, so I’ll know if she stops. Why the fuck is that song stuck in her head? I have no idea, but now, it’s going to be one more thing to remind me that I’m not with my mate either.
I go to my office, and a thought occurs to me. I have a spy, still, in King Solomon’s castle. The one who has been helping me with this trade all along. He doesn’t have much access to the royal family and couldn’t even tell me where Mara was being held, but he was helpful in making the trade.
I pull out a secret cell phone from my desk and ask him, “Are there witches in Darksky Castle?” I hit send and then wait.
He doesn’t answer right away, so I start on some important work that needs to be done. When he finally replies, it’s a non-answer. “I don’t know. I’ll see what I can find out.”
I thank him and then put the phone back in the bottom of my drawer behind some other items. I try to return my attention to my work, but Mara continues to play that same melody over and over again, and my heart hurts even worse with every note.
The idea of picking up my phone–my personal cell phone–and sending Hezzlie a text, just to see how she is, comes to mind. What harm would it do?
No, she would be suspicious. It might even put her in danger. I can’t do that. I just have to believe that she’s been accepted as part of the royal family in Darksky and that they love her and are taking good care of her.
I have to find a way to let her go. Just like the romance in the song Mara insists on playing over and over again, our love was doomed from the start.
We can never be together.