Other Lives (3 page)

“There’s no one here except you and me,” he assured her with a smile. “There’s nothing supernatural in this room. Retha won’t say a word because I know some stories about her that she wouldn’t like told either. So everything will continue as normal.”

“I’m not sure I know the meaning of normal,” she whispered.

There was something heartbreakingly lovely in Miranda. It tugged at his heartstrings and without really wanting to he circled her shoulders with his arm and she rested her head against him. 

He felt rather guilty. After all, she was nothing but a piece of bait. At the same time she was a very sad and lonely girl.

***

He was sick and he had asked her to visit him for a game of cards. He played all kinds of board and card games and fancied intricate puzzles. Miranda, having spent a lifetime trapped inside her uncle’s household  had also become adept at puzzles and card games.

This pleased him. 

“There, on the table,” he said as a greeting. “I’ve placed all the pieces already.”

Miranda nodded, glancing at the beautiful gold and silver board. Darius lay in the center of a massive bed, propped up by crimson cushions. 

“This is lovely,” she said. 

“It’s not so much when you have a cold.”

She walked around his spacious chamber in awe. There was too much of everything, excess as natural to Darius as breathing. Miranda paused before a small portrait of a young woman, half hidden behind an ornamental silver box.

“She’s pretty” she said turning towards him. “Who is she?”

When she showed him the little painting, Darius shifted irritably.

“That is an unpleasant memory that I keep tucked away,” Darius grimaced. “Only the idiotic maids must have been dusting and fidgeting with my things again.”

“Who is she?”

“She was my wife. She died three years ago. I would rather not discuss her,” he replied.

“Oh,” Miranda mumbled. “I didn’t know you’d been married. How did she die?”

“I said I did not want to discuss it.”

“I am curious, that is all. No one ever told—”

“She died, does it matter?,” he said, his voice growing harsh and loud. “Dead and buried.”

“I’m sorry,” was her response. 

It was not enough. She had stirred the darkness in him. Now the darkness blazed back at her. Uncertain, she felt herself flush, mortified.    

“Out,” he ordered.  

She took a first weak step. 

“Out!” he yelled.  

For a brief moment she recalled the chorus of boys gathered outside their home at night. ‘Witch spawn’ they’d taunt and say other things she couldn’t make out. Sometimes, even in broad daylight on their way to the butcher’s or the shrine of Our Lady of Lilies she would catch hushed words. 

Their smug faces, the same face Darius now sported, made her quiver with fury. She wanted them all to choke on their fat tongues. 

For a second she wished Darius would choke and it was that thought that sent her spinning away. It was that thought which frightened her. 

He spoke again, as she reached the door.

“Wait,” he said, and his voice was different. 

She stopped and turned around. His bitterness was still there, although it seemed to have diluted a little.  

“Sit down,” he muttered.

She edged closer to him but decided not to sit, instead stopping at the foot of his bed. 

“She was unhappy. She killed herself. It’s a simple story,” he said. 

Miranda looked down, her hands neatly hidden against the folds of her dress. 

“When I was a child,” she said, hesitating for the briefest instant, “my mother jumped from a high window and killed herself. She was very unhappy, too.”

He did not say anything and she glanced up. He was staring at her in an odd way.

“When I met you, I knew there was something different about you. I guess I recognize in you the same tragedy in me.” 

It was her turn to struggle for words, but thankfully he filled the void. 

“Let’s play,” he suggested.

***

Outside it was a bitter winter that slashed at the windows and nipped the flesh. But inside there was fantasy and make-believe and it was any season they desired and any land that pleased them. 

Darius showed her a pet leopard with a jeweled collar that he kept in an ornate cage. He organized a dinner where all the dishes were red and all guests wore crimson. He gave her a grand tour of the library and they peered over ancient tomes and he allowed her to look at some old books of magic incantations. Then he showed her an old book, a hidden treasure. 

“It was my grandfather’s grimoire“, he told her. “He was a warlock. But you must keep that little tidbit to yourself.”

“Do you know any magic?” she asked as a jest.

“A little. Not enough to stop me from being charmed by the likes of you, fair nymph” he responded.

“You never take anything seriously.”

“I am serious. Would you like to know a dark secret of mine?”

“What?’ she asked.

He rolled his sleeve up, showing her a series of tiny dark symbol upon his skin in a row, the dark shapes alien to her.

“It’s a talisman. These words are magic,” he said. “They ward off evil.”

The writing was like nothing she had seen before and, unthinking, Miranda reached towards his arm, meaning to touch the odd letters before she realized exactly what she was attempting and stepping back.

“Forgive me,” she said, blushing.

“I think I’d be a fool if I were offended by that gesture.”  

He chuckled and then she chuckled, and he showed her another book. A beautiful illustrated tome with beasts from exotic lands. He pointed out a unicorn and told her he could find one for her.  

5

In the dream it was him, not her mother, falling from the tower while everything burned. The tapestries and the armoire went up in flames and Miranda woke up, a whimper escaping her lips. 

The mirror across the room reflected her pale figure. Only it did not look like her, the shape alien and deformed and then…

She blinked. There was nothing in its clear reflection except a scared young woman. 

***

“What was she like, his wife?”

“She was sweet,” muttered Nikolaos. “She was beautiful.”

“He loved her very much, didn’t he? I could see the deep loss in his eyes … I like him and I cannot remain here. I was dishonest Nikolaos. I did not tell you everything.”

She was standing by the window while the snow fell outside, a hand lightly splayed against the glass. Under the dim light of his chamber, with the snow framing her, she seemed ghostly. 

“There was a boy I knew, Giustan. He was one of the few people who were not afraid of me. All the other boys would hurl rocks at my window shutters during the night. But he wouldn’t. He was sweet. My uncle said he was also unworthy of attention because he didn’t have much money. 

“Still, he’d come around with excuses to see me or we’d meet by chance on my way to the market. I liked him very much. One night…he was attacked by someone, some thief my uncle said. It was a vicious thing. They burnt the body, it was so badly mangled.

“He was fifteen when he died.”

Nikolaos moved closer to her. From that angle, her eyes seemed almost burning yellow, like a candle flame. 

“You think it was your fault. It is a coincidence.”

“Is it?” she asked, tossing the question back at him. 

He picked his words carefully. “You should be thinking of other things. Happy things. You should be smiling and forgetting about old stories.”

“Every time I look in the mirror I feel like it’s there. Like I’m being watched,” she whispered and glanced at her reflection. He glanced too and there was nothing strange in the glass…and yet. 

An unintentional shiver ran down his spine and for a moment Nikolaos was revolted by the sight of her. Then she turned towards him, wiping stray tears from her eyes and there was only a sad woman there, no storybook monster.

“It’s a tale,” he said. “Just some old tale.”

“An old tale,” she whispered. “What if it isn’t? I don’t want Darius to be hurt.”

“Fallen in love, have we?” he muttered. 

Miranda shrugged as she twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

“At first I thought you’d fetched me off for some repulsive pig, but he’s not. He’s actually charming. I fear that he’d be harmed. Or you.” 

“Yes, yes, we know this evil demon will kill us all.”

“Yes, and I must leave,” she said. “I must leave before you are hurt. It knows what I’m thinking, I can feel it. It’s in my dreams. Every night, when I go to bed. It knows.” 

“Knows what?”

“Everything. Every single secret I keep. And it is inching closer. Oh, it’s closer and closer. It slips behind me at nights and whispers in my ear,” she said, her face distant and strange. 

He did not want to, would not have her speaking like that. It was too dreadful, her vacant expression. Like a porcelain doll with glass eyes. So he embraced her instead, pressing her tight against him just to get those terrible doll eyes to leave him.

She cried freely and it didn’t help the situation at all. He was bad with weeping women and found himself mumbling silly words of comfort, smoothing her hair as she held on to him.

The sobs diminished and when those eyes did look up at him again she seemed better, a trembling smile fluttering on her face.

“Thank you,” she said in a whisper.

Nikolaos grunted a muffled sound that did not amount to a real word, feeling absolutely awkward and misplaced. Thank you for what? He was no friend of hers and if she could see into his heart she would do well to recoil. 

But it was evident she was oblivious to his true nature the moment he felt a hesitant kiss. 

A bit shocked Nikolaos did not react at first, then kissed her back because he wanted to, had wanted it for a long time now. 

A splinter of jealousy dug into his soul every time he saw her with Darius. He pushed that jealousy aside, ignored the itching pressure inside his throat because she was for Darius. 

But thoughts about Darius were quickly stripped aside. He kissed Miranda and she wrapped her arms around him, pressed herself into his body.

A flicker of sanity reaching his muddled mind, Nikolaos pulled back and stared at her.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “Never.”

She seemed hurt and ashamed as she rushed out. He was tempted to stop her for a moment. But he could not. Would not. 

6

Miranda carefully avoided Nikolaos for the next few days. It had been a rather silly thing to do. Because if it the story was true, and she’d thought it was, then she was placing his life in danger with that kiss. She wasn’t even sure why she’d kissed him. Perhaps she was being bold, trying to prove the stories false. Maybe she was feeling lonely. Or perhaps she’d merely needed it.

She closed her book and glanced at Darius who lay on a regal looking chair, his feet propped up on another chair. 

“Do you think spells can be broken?” she asked.

“What kind of spells?” he muttered.

“A curse.”

“My grandfather said a curse can be bent, tamed, if you will.”

“I wish your grandfather was here.”

“He’s been dead for the past five years. But if it’s magic you want I’ll take you to Trivek. There are small dragons there that swim in the rivers and cry pearls.” 

“That’s a lie,” she said sadly. 

She saw her face reflected in the glass windows of the library and looked away. The silver surface of the cups they had been drinking with also reflected her. The library was growing darker and she didn’t want to be there anymore.

Darius walked up to her, abandoning his book.

“If you don’t want to go to Trivek I’ll take you somewhere else.”

“Take me to Nortre,” she said, afraid of his nearness, of the window that so close and her reflection there.  

“Back to that sheep infested hole you despise?”

“I need to go home. I belong somewhere else.”

“Surely not in the middle of nowhere herding along a flock.” 

Darius chuckled. She did not laugh, turning to leave. He caught her arm, his face growing composed and serious.

“Stay,” he said. “We can get you those dragon pearls and sail on a barge. I’ll make you Queen…” 

“I don’t want pearls, I don’t want a barge. You can’t make me queen of anything. You are always offering things you do not have, all these fancy tales and lies. Nothing is real.”

“Who needs real?” he said with disdain. “It isn’t all fancy tales either. But stay for the tales if you wish. I do my best to entertain you.”

“I’d like to go,” she said.

“You are not a prisoner. You may leave any time you want. But if you’ve come all this way just to give me up before I solemnly ask for your hand in marriage, then you are a bit of a fool.”

He was smiling again. It was a different kind of smile though. It had an edge.

“It’s the whole reason Nikolaos has dragged you here, isn’t it? Don’t feel bad. Many other men have piled their nieces, daughters and even mistresses at my feet hoping I’d pick one of them. To tell you the truth I think marriage doesn’t suit me, but what do I know?” he chuckled. “I like you, though.”

She thought she saw movement in the silver surface of the cups. She backed away from him and felt her back press against a bookcase. He frowned.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’ll bring you bad luck and shame and—”

“I’ve had plenty of both since the King barred me from court.”

“Barred you?”

“For being a wicked, ambitious man. I can vouch it is true, that my ambitions are indeed quite high and I intend to wed you and place a crown upon that pretty head of yours. For you are my talisman, Miranda, and with you I shall have the whole world in the palm of my hand.”

“You are joking and it’s not funny,” she said, for he was talking treason and insanity.  

He laughed and she could not help it, despite all her misgivings and her fear, and the reflection upon the cups, and despite it all she smiled at him. And she thought perhaps he was mad, but she liked his madness, his pretty lies, the stories he spun for her.