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She woke up with pain throbbing inside her head. Her bed and pillow were soft and warm, providing comfort against her sore body. It was dark, save for the blue light seeping through the thick curtains of the room. Slowly, she reached out to touch the itchy material brushing against her forehead. Her fingertips found bandages taped on her skin.
All came back - the memories, the fear, and the desperation. She sat up, eyes wide in panic, gasping air. Her heart raced, pumping blood into her arms, covered in scratches and light cuts. In front of her were women she had never seen in her life, observing her. “Who are you-”
“Lady Baroque,” one of the maids quickly interrupted and the rest bowed. “You were badly hurt, please don’t exert yourself.” She talked calmly, sitting down on the bed and touching her shoulder.
Guinevere stayed quiet and looked around. This was not her room at all. These were not her clothes. She smelled nothing like her soap and perfume. The walls, the furniture, the ceiling, and the carpet looked nothing like home. She reached out to her side table to turn on the lamp, hoping to get a clearer view of the maids and their uniforms. This was no hotel either that she knew.
“Answer me: Where am I?” Guinevere asked and all the four maids looked at each other. “Where am I!” She slammed the mattress with her hands, causing the maids to jolt, fear now in their eyes.
“You’re now in Castle Aberleen, my lady-”
“Seriously? I must have died and the Abyss captured my soul!” Guinevere threw her head back and laughed in disbelief. After all, she had gone through last night - all the roads she avoided, the border guards she bribed, the forests she hiked - she still ended up at the very last place she wanted to be. She jumped out of her bed, and her knees wobbled as her bare feet hit the carpet.
“My lady, please rest for now!” One of the maids pleaded.
Guinevere ignored her and walked to the window. She opened the curtains to see the full moon shining on her. Was this the same night as her escape? “How long was I out?”
“Since this early morning, my lady.”
She took note of the courtyard and the castle walls outside. This is her best chance to map the place. Four storeys up and she wouldn’t be able to jump or climb down. “I’m starving, where is the kitchen?”
“We can bring you food my lady, what do you like-”
“No, bring me to the kitchen. I’d like to prepare my own food.” Guinevere commanded, waiting for the maids’ reactions to her request.
The women looked hesitant. “The doctor advised you to rest-”
“I feel great, thank you.” Guinevere stretched her arms and warmth returned to her bones. She slipped into the house shoes that were laid beside her bed. “Now, excuse me I want to eat.” She stormed towards the door but the women blocked her way, just as she expected. “Move. Am I a prisoner?”
“Please, my lady,” the most talkative maid placed herself between Guinevere and the door.
“Is this Duke Paxley’s orders?” Guinevere smiled and the lack of an immediate answer was the answer itself. She didn’t wait any longer and channeled her magic inside. With one spell, the maids were pushed sideways, knocked down to the floor. She made sure the burst was restrained and cause no injuries. Guinevere busted the doorknob, the metal locks exploding with her power.
Left or right? It didn’t matter as long as she finds any stairwell. As long as she could get to the second level of the castle, she can use a window to jump out unharmed. All the pain in her muscles and her swollen forehead had faded as she sprinted down the dark hallways. She passed through several paintings and sculptures - their eyes seemed to watch her every move.
Then she felt it - the disturbance in the wind, the shadows following her, and the humming of magic. It’s just like the night before when she was being chased. She had gotten a lot better at detecting Paxley magic now, and she used it to evade her pursuers and chose empty paths.
“Gotcha!” Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief as she found her first stairwell. She laughed, proud of her achievement. Then she felt it again - the rushing bodies, the curtains dancing in the dark. They’re close.
“No!” At the end of the corridor was a blank wall. Shouldn’t there be a window here? There were Paxley family guards in all directions except one.
She ran through the path, her last option. She’s almost out of breath and was hoping to see a window in her next turn. But there was none. No stairwell either. There was only a fancy-looking door waiting to be opened, and Guinevere knew it was no exit.
She shook her head, her nostrils flaring in anger and frustration. Her steps were heavy as she stormed inside the room, revealing a man inside. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Duke Aamon Paxley!” Guinevere said in a theatrical manner, adding a curtsy for sarcasm.
Duke Paxley was facing the window and turned around to face Guinevere. His eyes looked beyond the girl. “Please leave us alone,” he ordered and Guinevere turned around to see several men cloaked in magic. The servants bowed and left without a noise. He turned to Guinevere and smiled at her. “We are relieved you’re alright Lady Baroque. You fell down a ravine, and we feared the worst.”
“I wouldn’t have fallen if your men weren’t pursuing me.” Guinevere held her chin high and looked at Duke Paxley with disdain. She never wanted this meeting, but it’s her chance to express her displeasure to one of the men trying to control her life. She walked towards Duke Paxley to see his face better.
The stories were true. He was undeniably a very handsome man, looking like every maiden’s dream knight. Back when she was a child, all the adults had talked about how Aamon Paxley became the most powerful teenager in Moniyan upon his parents’ death. As she grew up, so many of the girls in her class had fantasized about marrying the duke, and for years he’s the most desired bachelor in the empire.
But Guinevere was not charmed. There was only one Paxley she will ever keep in her heart, and that was not Aamon.
“I apologize, Lady Baroque, for all the pain you went through. We couldn’t let you run away, since I made a promise to your father.” Aamon explained, his words polite and sympathetic. He smiled at the girl kindly. “Lady Guinevere Baroque, it’s unfortunate our first meeting was brought by such circumstances.” He slightly bowed his head and offered Guinevere the couch. “I wish to talk with you. I want to listen to anything you have to say.”
“I’m not interested in marrying you,” Guinevere said flatly, crossing her arms. “I want to be out of here.”
“We cannot allow that, my lady. It’s cold outside and it’s late in the evening.” He said gently. “Please sit, I want to hear it directly from you, anything in your mind.”
Guinevere studied the man for a few seconds. He looked so dashing and harmless, but she knew that he was the master of the castle. Nobody ever won a war without studying their enemies, and thus she must use this time to get to know the man. “Fine then, give me something to drink. Something warm. I’m hungry too and I don’t want to wait any longer.” Guinevere jumped down on the couch and raised her legs, resting her feet on Aamon’s table. She was no lady - she wriggled her toes in full glory for Aamon to see.
“I’m pleased you’re comfortable, my lady.” Aamon remained polite despite Guinevere’s display of defiance. “I have food here in my office, I just hope they’re of your liking.”
Guinevere took the time to observe Aamon’s room. It’s just like her father’s - filled with certificates, trophies, awards on one side, family paintings on one wall, and bookshelves. Behind his busy desk was the window. Based on the tree branches visible, it must be the second storey - her chance of escape. Guinevere almost sprang into action when Aamon returned with a tray with a glass of water, cups of coffee, and a bagel, placing them on the table where her feet rested. Aamon sat down on the other couch, keeping his distance from Guinevere as a gentleman should.
Aamon sighed and started the conversation. “I know you are upset that we brought you here, but believe me we do not intend to treat you as a prisoner. We simply wish to be responsible, since we caused your injuries.”
“Hmm hmm,” Guinevere just nodded, making sure her face spelled apathy. She took huge bites from the bread, filling her cheek so she could look like a hamster. Did Aamon like hamsters?
“Is it true that your father didn’t ask for your consent for the arrangement? I found that unbelievable.” Aamon looked sincere as he asked, keeping his eyes focused on Guinevere. The view of an overly serious man just beside her bare, sweaty feet was just hilarious.
“Yshe-dnt-nvr told-bot-it” Guinevere replied with her mouth full, and Aamon narrowed his eyes as he listened. Clearly, he didn’t understand any word she said. She held back her laughter, else she might choke on her food.
But Aamon continued. “I would never marry my sisters off without their consent. It’s cruel to force them into an unhappy situation.”
Guinevere threw her head back and laughed, her mouth still full of bread. The irony and hypocrisy were just too much. Whatever Aamon was trying to do, it’s not working with her.
“All that I know about your family is through your father. Can you tell me more about them?”
“They’re… nice.” She answered, and even if Aamon seemed to wait, she said nothing further.
“I see.” Aamon rubbed his chin and seemed to be deep in thought. His cold blue eyes didn’t stray away from hers. “He always spoke about your older brother Sir Lancelot. I wish to meet him in person myself since your father is adamant that...” Aamon paused. “I apologize for the words, but your father was very unkind. He said that your brother was a ‘disgraceful young man with loose morals.’”
“No that’s not true!” Guinevere slammed her fist on the table, causing the porcelain to rattle. “Lancelot may be an idiot, but he lives by his own rules. He’s free - unlike others who live to please their families.” She glared at the man.
“I can see you love your brother very much.” There was a faint smile on Aamon’s face.
Guinevere froze. He was baiting her, but she couldn’t let him win. “I love tormenting him. Perfect target practice for my spells!”
“I can relate to Lancelot,” Aamon chuckled and pointed to the scar on his chin. “My brother Gusion threw a dagger at me years ago. Could have killed me but I remember it fondly.”
Guinevere took a sharp breath at the mention of Gusion and Aamon seemed to notice. She quickly averted her eyes and fiddled with the hem of her skirt, her heart racing. Did he know?
Aamon talked again after a long time. “If your brother is in trouble, would you come and save him?”
“Of course, because he’s helpless and needs saving.”
Aamon’s smiled and nodded. “That’s what I feel about my brother as well. That’s a common ground we have, Miss Baroque, and you can see we can understand each other. I do not live by the rules of my family, everything I do for them is because of love.”
Guinevere snorted. “Then if you do things for love, what’s with the arranged marriage?” She raised her voice with every word. “You want to marry me even if you do not know me? So much for love! I see a contradiction of what you say and what you do, Duke Paxley.”
“I wouldn’t lie, Miss Baroque,” Aamon retrieved the cup of coffee on the table. He added a few cubes of sugar and stirred his drink. “You already know the history of my family. We need to carry on the bloodline, and you’re one of the most talented young mages in the empire. I was so impressed when I learned about you.”
“You want me to birth your babies. That’s it.”
“That’s correct.” Aamon stayed quiet for a while, his eyes focused on his coffee. He took a a quiet sip. “In return, I will protect you and love you as a husband should.”
“Well, I don’t want to!” Guinevere spat as she stood up, her voice shaking and hands trembling. “I don’t want marriage or children.” These were the words she had held inside her for a long time. She could feel her eyes grow heavy as she held back tears. Her father, uncles, aunts, and every adult in her life knew nothing but ask her about her plans for marriage, or what kind of man she’s looking for. How she wished the man seated was her father. How nice would it be to scream at his face right now?
Aamon looked up and Guinevere quickly averted her gaze, hiding her momentary weakness. “My sister said the same words when she was younger. Now? She’s happily engaged. Next spring, she would no longer live in this castle, and I will miss her dearly.” Aamon was somber as he stared ahead. “You’re not wrong to feel that way, my lady. Your desires are real and they matter.” He finished his drink and stood up.
Guinevere was unsure of what to say. She looked up to the man - their height difference was much more when they’re so close like this. Aamon’s words were something she had craved to hear. Could he truly understand what she was feeling? Her wishes?
Aamon continued; “When I was seventeen, I didn’t know what I truly wanted. I was a perfect, obedient, firstborn son.” He confessed, his eyes downcast. “Then my parents died, and I had to be Duke Paxley. I had to raise my siblings because they had no one else. I couldn’t imagine what it’s like to be able to choose differently.”
Guinevere frowned. “You say you know what I feel. You say they’re valid. But why are you taking away my choice?”
“I’m offering you a compromise,” Aamon answered. “No one can truly live in this world alone. What do you wish to do with your life, my lady?”
“I wish to be free. I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval to do what I want.” Guinevere said firmly she held back her tears. Her own father never asked her what her dreams were. Her father never praised her as a mage, only that it made her more marriageable. Her achievements in the magic academy were all to make her a suitable wife to someone like Aamon.
How she wished to teach girls to fight. How she wished to establish her own magic arts. How she wished to see the world and sail to the ends of the seas. How she wished to fight among the Imperial Knights to save the empire from the Abyss. The world was just so limitless beyond her castle.
Then she had one more wish, and when she closed her eyes, she could only see Gusion Paxley’s face.
Slowly, Aamon took Guinevere’s hand - she didn’t resist as he held it gently in his own. His blue eyes locked on hers. “I’m offering you a home, Guinevere. We Paxleys value magic, something the Baroque family does not. Here you will thrive, reach your dreams, and still have a family that will support you. Your happiness will matter to me.”
“I-I…” Guinevere shook her head in defiance as Aamon stared into her soul. He’s winning.
“We can delay the marriage if you want. We can take it slow and get to know each other more.”
Such sweet words. Too good to be true. Everything she had ever wanted to hear from a suitor was coming out of Aamon’s lips. How charming, persuasive and intelligent. How seductive. Guinevere now understood why this man was respected and desired by many.
This is was also why she was more terrified than ever. Her chest constricted as Aamon’s piercing gaze held her hostage. He knew how to get inside her mind and make her react in ways he wanted. He was tearing her down, making her submit. This man was never her ally, and far more powerful and cunning than anyone she had ever met.
She had to escape.
Her eyes quickly glanced at the window. Guinevere pulled her hand away from Aamon’s touch, summoning all the courage left inside her. “What if I never give you any children?”
Aamon’s remained stoic. “If it’s a physical condition, we have spells to cure it.”
“No no no!” Guinevere wiggled her finger in front of Aamon’s face. “What if I never want to have any children.” Aamon’s lips twitched but he remained silent. “You know? I will probably be thrown away like a used rag. Wow, Paxley divorce scandal! What a story that will be.” She laughed with contempt and jabbed a finger to Aamon’s chest, directly to the Paxley insignia on his shirt. “Nice try, but it’s obvious what you wanted from me. You can never truly love me for who I am. Even if you do, I won’t feel the same.”
Aamon’s face was contemplative. “I believe love is a choice, Miss Guinevere. The love people desperately seek - the spark, the feeling, and magic - is from fairytales. I simply don’t believe in such things.”
Oh, brave woman, she knew the things worth fighting for. “I hope you get to experience love then, so you will realize how wrong you are. But not from me of course.” She giggled and stepped back a good distance from the man and stuck out her tongue. “Sorry Aamon, you’re just not my type!”
Before Aamon could react, she activated an explosive spell in the office, sending furniture, paper, and porcelain flying. Aamon was thrown back and was lost in the chaos as Guinevere made her move towards the window. A ball of energy formed in her hands and she used it to smash through the glass.
Never look back. Jump now, think later. Guinevere laughed as the night air brushed against her cheeks, cooling the warm tears on her face, shards of glass flying like fireworks. Nothing connected her to the earth, nothing held her down. She flew into the sky, to the stars, and into the vast unknown.