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I let out a sob, hugging her tighter. I love you. I love you. I love you, my favorite girl. My best girl. My sweet love.
Killian snatched the rein from my hand, guiding Ragna forward and away from me.
“Don’t… don’t take her away from me,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. Ragna was the only thing I had left. My only companion. She understood me better than anyone else. I couldn’t lose her, not when I no longer had anything to call my own.
Killian smile cruelly.
His head lowered, his nose brushing against my jaw, over the veil. His breath fanned over my ear and his whispers left cracks in my already fragmented heart. “Atone for your sins, wife.”
My face crumpled and a sob escaped past the lump in my throat as Killian led Ragna away. My mare looked back at me, confused and alarm. She let out a snort, throwing her head back, her beautiful mane flying into the air, as her tail lashed back and forth.
I clutched my chest, willing for the ache to go away, but the pressure built and built, growing more intense. Ragna and Killian disappeared and I was left alone in the stables, without my mare and with only a bleeding heart.
Atone for your sins, Killian had said.
But that was exactly what I had been doing for the last three years.
Atoning.
Until I became a forgotten daughter, an unloved wife and a lost woman.
The tears spilled down my cheeks, drenching my black veil.
Ragna was the only thing that truly mattered. The beautiful creature I dreamed of in my fairy tales. I thought that even though there was no prince charming in my story… or a happy ending, at least I had my Ragna.
Sure, I didn’t have a knight in shining armor riding on a white horse to save me from this cursed castle and cursed story.
But I didn’t need a knight in shining armor.
For I was the one who rode on the white horse.
And now… she has been taken away from me.
Snatched away, so mercilessly.
How unfair, how cruel, how heartless.
I sunk to the ground, my fingers clenching the grass where Ragna had stood, just mere seconds before. Her hooves had left imprints in the grass, the only proof that she existed, that she had been here.
My Ragna.
Days had passed and I felt myself drifting further from reality. It was absolutely terrifying, to feel yourself lose control of your own mind, your own emotions and your own body. To suffer in silence, to breathe through a broken heart – the kind of deep suffering that changes who you are from the inside.
You become adrift, lost in a vast ocean of… nothingness. How could emptiness be so heavy?
To feel so unworthy of love, to feel so… lost.
The first time I had found myself in a confession box, spilling my fears to the Priest, he had said, atone for your sins. You will find salvation.
And so, I had been doing that. For the last three years.
Yet, my salvation had only come with more heartbreak.
“Julianna?” The sound of my name being called out had me flinching.
I blinked and turned toward the owner of the voice. William Spencer. His fork had paused mid-way to his mouth and he gave me a concerned look. “Did you hear what I just said?”
I licked my lips and shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I got distracted.”
My father-in-law granted me a small smile. “Have you chosen your gown yet?”
Right, the masquerade ball. The reason why William came back to the Island. Three days from today, the ball would take place. The castle was more active than ever as arrangements were being made. Nothing should be lacking; William had strictly said. Including me.
It was going to be my first official appearance as Julianna Spencer.
I had to dress accordingly; I was expected to smile, to mingle, to laugh.
And to show the world just how in love my husband and I were.
An imperfect marriage but a perfect lie and a pretty façade.
William’s eyes darted between his son and me. His lips thinned when he noticed how rigid my shoulders were and just how tensed Killian was. We were sitting next to each other at the dining table, while William had his late lunch.
Killian and I had already eaten – separately – before his father had arrived on the Island an hour ago.
Our chairs had been pulled closely together, our shoulders touching, as if to give the perfect picture that we were one team. Civil and in love.
“Yes, I have chosen a gown already,” I said, keeping my tone mellow. The hand on my thigh tightened in what I assumed was… satisfaction.
My thigh burned under his touch, even though my dress kept him from touching my bare skin. I eyed Killian from the corner of my eye, watched him smile at his father as if everything was right in our marriage life.
