Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (26 page)

Ella clutched Gabriel’s waist tightly and rested her head against his back. They had been riding for some time and her entire body ached. Ella felt the brunt of the throbbing in her temples and knew the excessive amount of sobbing she’d done that day had undoubtedly wreaked some kind of vengeance on her brain.

But it had been worth it.

That was, if it had even happened. Ella was still in a strange but blissful state of shock. She recalled hitting Gabriel across his face. She remembered the violent yank of her body and falling backwards. But the rest was a blur; an invigorating collage of recollections, feelings, and sensations that yielded such inexpressible delight that it made her doubt if it was real—if it were even possible.

Would it ever happen again?

As they neared the courtyard of the Delaquix estate and the conclusion of their travels, Ella was set upon by apprehension that all but knocked her from Seely’s saddle.

Ever again?

She clung to Gabriel even tighter and pressed her face so desperately to his back that he stopped the horse, with still many yards to cover, and cranked his neck as far as he could toward her.

“Are you all right, Ella?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, releasing his body, “but I would like to get off here.”

Gabriel did not argue but swiftly dismounted the stallion and then turned around and took Ella’s waist in his hands, lifting her from Seely’s back.

“I can’t believe Marion and Marguerite aren’t waiting at the door with rollers and wooden spoons ready to attack me,” Gabriel said, looking toward the house. “I don’t know if I can withstand another beating tonight.” He smiled and Ella was immediately discomfited with the memory of slapping Gabriel only an hour before.

“I’m not too surprised,” Ella replied, blushing, “I never told them that you were the reason I was so despondent last night. As far as I know, they only hate you as much as they did before; nothing more.”

Gabriel laughed and Ella could only think of how much she loved the sound of his jovialness, his contentment.

“Well, that and the fact that I told them I was accompanying you on your trip seemed to help assuage their worry,” he added.

“You lied to them?”

“Of course not. I did accompany you, Ella. Just not where you could see me.”

“You mean you were with me in Kersley?”

“At a distance.”

Ella was not angry. She was not even surprised. “Gabriel,” she inquired as she watched him take the horse’s bit in his left hand, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How did you escape?”

“Escape?”

“From prison, fifteen years ago.”

Gabriel pondered the question for a moment and then answered. He began leading Seely back toward the stables as he spoke. “It was nothing too extraordinary, I suppose,” he said, facing forward. “I simply pretended to be dead and when the idiotic cell guard came in to look at me, I killed him.”

“You killed him?!”

“No, I am teasing you. I only incapacitated him in the worst way. Though he deserved no less than death.” Gabriel’s voice had gone from lighthearted to dark in an instant.

“Why?” Ella entreated, staring at Gabriel so intensely as they meandered toward the house that she almost tripped on the uneven ground and random debris in her path several times.

Gabriel didn’t respond swiftly. Did she really need to know something that would only cause her discomfort? “Because they were going to kill me,” he said, boldly and with no timidity. “And it was not even the execution by hanging that the citizens of Gwent had been led to believe. They intended to torture me to death. They had already started.”

“They?”

“Thurlow, the cell guards…the king.”

“The king?!”

“Yes. He was never part of it when it happened, but he knew. I would hear his voice talking to Thurlow. He was very unhappy; he even tried to talk Thurlow out of what he was doing to me, believing I had already suffered enough. But Thurlow convinced the king that I was part of my brother’s conspiracy to have him killed. He told him that if I had been granted any mercy, I would come back and kill his wife and young son. Thurlow assured King William that as soon as I confessed, they would let me die. He was lying, of course.”

Ella was speechless. Her heart raced like she had stepped into a horrific dream and could not escape because it was not her nightmare to awaken from. “Gabriel,” she said softly, compassionately, as if her voice could travel back through time and soothe his wounds and battered body, “I’m sorry. I had no idea that you…went through that.”

“When I escaped, I could barely walk. It was nothing short of a miracle that I was able to overpower the guard and move swiftly enough to take possession of his keys and flee into the forest. But I did. And by the time I made it to Kersley, I was done. I could take not one more step. I collapsed right there and accepted that death was upon me. But I did not die and, well… you know the rest.”

“Did Thurlow come looking for you?”

“Oh yes, many times. Sometimes he came himself, other times he sent only the army. They came into Kersley a few times, but the people concealed me. When we all decided we were tired of living in fear, and a macabre opportunity presented itself, we devised away to make it look like I had been killed.”

“How?”

Gabriel grimaced at the morbid recollection. “One day, some children found a dead body in the river. No one knew how he got there or who he was. He had been in the water so long that his face was unrecognizable. The only thing that was clear was that the man was very tall, like I am. Thurlow had offered a reward to whomever could capture me, the notorious fugitive, and turn him into the army, dead or alive. And that is just what they did. There ended the life of Gabriel Solange, the murderous traitor that had escaped after conspiring to kill the beloved King William.”

“Thurlow believed it was you?”

“I assume he must have, for no parties were deployed with the intention of tracking me down from then on. In truth, Thurlow only ever saw me with my face buried beneath a beard, dirt, sweat, dried blood, and every lovely thing you can imagine. He wouldn’t have known what to look for to be sure. He never truly saw the real me.”

“The real you?”

“As I am right now, I suppose.”

Is this you, Gabriel? Was it you that met me in the glen not long ago where I learned that succumbing to the will of my heart was the only way to ever know it? Let this be the real you.

“Gabriel,” Ella said, “I thought you said that Thurlow was Benjamin’s best friend.”

“He was.” Gabriel paused in his tracks. He was more than able to divulge those horrors that made his own life so disturbed and even convey some kind of pride that he was still standing in spite of it, but his brother’s story was too sacred. Benjamin could not tell it himself and so Gabriel was required to. He could not be so disrespectful as to dismiss the details, like he’d made some kind of peace with them and moved on. Until the wrongs were made right, he would suffer in his brother’s place.

Ella was quieted by Gabriel’s curt and fragmented response. She had wanted to know, but was made so fragile by her fear of losing him, of pushing him away, that she did not pressure him any further. When Gabriel began relaying those elements of Benjamin and Thurlow’s friendship, Ella was glad. She was relieved she had not upset him.

“I met Thurlow only three times in my life,” Gabriel began. “And one of those times, he was having me arrested. Another one of those times, he was beating me with a steel rod.”

“Oh.”

“But the first time I met him, I was…impressed by him. Benjamin had joined the army two years before I did and that was where he met Thurlow. By the time I finally was introduced, they were already friends.”

“What was he like?”

“Thurlow?”

“Yes.”

“He was the same age as Benjamin but looked years older. He had a thick beard and his hair was to his shoulders. There was always this creeping rigidity in his eyes, even when he was smiling or trying to be cordial. I thought maybe he had a hyper-vigilant personality, you know, like he believed so much in what he was doing.”

“How did he and Benjamin become friends?”

Gabriel once again became stolid and withdrawn.

“They shared the same philosophy,” he replied. “They did not approve of King William.”

Ella was baffled. “Are you saying your brother did not like the king?” she asked, afraid to go farther but unable to resist. “Gabriel,
did
Benjamin truly want to assassinate William?”

Gabriel inhaled deeply. “This is not easy for me to say, but in the beginning, yes. I was able to talk him out of it, but it was not easy for me or for him. You see, Ella, I also believed in his vision for a society that had no despots or wielders of unshakeable power. We were poor. We grew up despising the people who were born to privilege without so much as a question to their qualifications. It was only natural that we would not favor a system of government that propagated that axiom for as long as I can remember. What Thurlow wanted to do and his insane, almost nonsensical motivations stemmed from the same propaganda. That, and he was…”

He stalled. Ella remained silent, but it was only a mask to the surging suspense roaring through her mind. Gabriel shook his head, as though he was deciding what was and was not pertinent to his narrative. Ella did not appreciate his censorship, but opted not to prod him.

“Benjamin eventually came around,” Gabriel went on, “and he tried to convince Thurlow to as well. Thurlow acted as though he’d also had a change of heart. But then he staged the coup anyway and, when it was falling apart, threw Benjamin to the wolves. He killed my brother before he could have a chance to defend himself.”

“And then turned on you, the only other person that knew his true nature.”

“Precisely.”

Gabriel resumed his steps toward the house and Ella followed behind him.

It was all beginning to make sense, but Ella did not feel the satisfaction of riddles being solved; she saw only a picture unveiling from the completed puzzle image that depicted an even greater distance between her and Gabriel than she originally thought.

By the time Gabriel had concluded his story, he and Ella were standing on the cobblestone walkway to the barn. It seemed to Ella an appropriate finale to such a thrilling saga, yet she still wanted more. What had Gabriel been forced to endure while in captivity? He said he’d been tortured. What pain was Gabriel forced to go through; would having known Ella before it happened have made it easier to endure somehow?

“Good night, Ella,” Gabriel said, taking her hand gently in his own and lifting it to his lips. He kissed her skin so delicately that the shivers that pulsated through her body seemed an ill-fitting response. But it was the only way she could withstand it.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, her eyes as wide and vulnerable as a little child’s.

“I would like to take a little ride by myself if that is all right. I will see you tomorrow for the royal festivities.”

“Another ride? What about poor Seely? Don’t you think your horse might be exhausted?”

Gabriel grinned.

“You are probably right. I will take another one. Do you think Fitzpatrick might be willing to grant my request?”

Ella did not answer, instead smiling sweetly and dropping her chin to her chest.

Please kiss me goodnight, Gabriel.

Gabriel watched Ella blush for several seconds until she lifted her head back up slowly and met his eyes with her own. There they stayed for many moments until Gabriel swiftly, without forewarning, turned and began leading Seely down the remainder of the walkway toward the stable. Ella watched for several minutes until she could hear the upheaval of Gabriel exiting the barn on Fitzpatrick. He rode into the wilderness, his body framed by the grayness of the evening sky until after only a few moments, he was swallowed up completely by it.

He prayed she would not grieve at his parting. Ella must have known that his dismissal from her presence, from even the world she inhabitated if he’d been able to find a way, was the best thing he could do for her. It was the only way
he
could withstand it.

Chapter Twenty-One

It had been fifteen years since Gabriel had last seen the thick, endless vines and thorny branches that covered the secret passage to Thurlow’s sadistic playground. Located less than a mile from the main prison, it was a twisted, dark miracle that no one ever came upon it. It was well hidden and the surrounding terrain treacherous and uninviting, but Gabriel still had a hard time believing some young children hadn’t accidentally crossed its way in their mischievous recreation. Perhaps they had. Who knew what a man like Thurlow would have done to keep his secrets? Even hurt a child….

Gabriel, on Fitzpatrick’s back, watched the eerie setting from many yards away, veiled by both vegetation and nighttime. Still, when he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the wailing sobs coming from the within the deep cavity so plunged into the earth that it could only be breached by a dozen crumbling stone steps. He never knew how many other prisoners had been locked up in cells beside his. Were any of them still there? After enough exposure, the cacophony of mass crying welds into one distinct plea to God for mercy. Gabriel had prayed for that mercy. It never came.

What came in its place, however, had tormented him in a way that Thurlow would never have been capable. Gabriel knew not whether his escape from his detention was the divine hand of providence or the devil teasing him with a scrap of bread. If God had provided Gabriel the opportunity to escape and then the will and inexplicable energy to fight for it, it seemed prudent to repay the Lord with a resolve to serve him in righteousness and devotion. But if it had been the devil to instill within Gabriel’s breast the rage that drove him from the depths of prison into exile, then Gabriel was entitled,
expected
, to cower to his self-serving and insidious passions because he was doomed for hell anyway, his soul property of the dark lord.

Gabriel’s most taxing burden was realizing it could not be one or the other. In whatever way he chose to scrutinize it, he was a child of both worlds. He and his mortal enemy might as well have rubbed shoulders, for his detestation of Thurlow was so much more than hatred. Hatred was a streak of darkness in an otherwise deeply feeling human being. It bled the same blood, cried the same tears. But Gabriel did more than hate; he understood Thurlow. He knew the way the man thought because they were not all that different. Therefore, loathing was bestowed upon himself as well; and for that, he could never have
her
. As much as their rendezvous in the woods had pierced his body with so ecstatic a sensation, Ella was entitled to more than being just the object of his passion, even if she claimed the contrary. He had to preserve what was left of his conscience, and the way he treated Ella, even in his most prurient desire, was the determinant of such will power. She was his conscience, twice the person he was. Gabriel could only offer her half of himself: his righteous half. That was not enough. He could never deserve her.