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I have a massive crush on my wife. Our first night together, she tried to kill me. We retreated to our chambers after the ceremony.
The hand maiden humbly asked, “How may I serve my lord and lady?”
I turned to my beloved. “If it pleases ‘my lady–,’”
She gestured to the door. “You may take your leave,” she said through gritted teeth, a twitch in her pristine smile.
On cue with the resonant thud of the door closing, she had me bent over and slammed against the vanity. Her fingers raked through my hair, gripping the roots and yanking my head back. I recognized the knife in the mirror’s reflection, but rather than strapped to the inside of her thigh, its blade teased the skin of my neck. Her weight trapped my wrists between her front and my back.
How resourceful.
“I sense there is something troubling my lady.” Her blade nicked my skin, eliciting a groan on my part.
Hearing her scoff was a rarity. “At least you have some sense.” She released her grip on my hair with a shove. “Must I constantly remind you this is a marriage of convenience?” Her reflection slid out of view as she moved to lounge on the chaise beneath the window. “Such affections are not warranted,” she finished with a deep sigh.
“Forgive me, my liege.” I took her hand and graced her knuckles with a kiss. “I am merely keeping up appearances.” When she refrained from flinging me out the window, I slid onto the chaise by her side.
She tossed her legs over my lap, swirling a glass of wine between her fingers. I had no idea when she poured it—the allure of her presence bathed in the moonlight distracted me, I fear. “Wisdom chases you, but you are faster.”
I reached out to brush a strand away from her face. My hand lingered for a moment longer, ghosting over her cheek. “It is not wisdom that I desire.”
Her demeanor remained unfazed. But her feather-light grasp on my wrist did not reject my touch. “No need for appearances between us.”
I withdrew. “No harm in practice.”
“Are you a lord or a jester?”
“Whatever my lady wishes me to be.”
“You should be silent.” The allure of her presence was rivaled only by her clever wit. She turned to the window with her head in her hand, her gaze distant and unfocused.
“I meant what I said. Tell me,” I lifted her coronet from her head and rested it on the nearby vanity, “what troubles my lady?”
Another deep sigh. “Something disastrous is coming. I can feel it.”
“That would be incredibly rude of them to interrupt your wedding night.”
“They wish they were half as troublesome as you.”
“Well, we are already married, so I cannot imagine any worse can happen.” I shifted closer, mirroring her position. “What makes you so sure?”
She hesitated. “Everything has gone… too smoothly. It is almost too good to be true.”
“I understand how you feel.”
She turned to me. “You do?”
“Of course. I have that effect on people, but I fear it cannot be helped.
“Be serious!”
“I am nothing if not sincere.” I kissed the inside of her wrist. “No harm will befall you as long as I live and breathe.”
I was a fool. You could say I was foolish for many things—foolish for saying what I did. For making a promise I could not keep. For believing that I could save her. But this was unlike the fairytales. I could not do anything for her.
Tonight, I find myself at the lake. The first and last time we came here together, she clung to me for dear life as we stumbled through the darkness.
“Agh, Damien–” Her stall yanked our joined hands. “I can’t see a thing!”
“We are nearly there.”
Her death grip on my hand turned my knuckles white. “Must we come all this way when the forest is pitch black?”
“There is a much clearer view during a new moon.” That is why I, too, could not see a damn thing. I pushed away the branch in front of me, which recoiled upon release.
“Ack! Clearly!”
“My deepest apologies, my lady.” I pulled the branch to the side and continued leading her down the path. “It will all be worth it.”
Once we came upon the clearing, her gasp upon arrival was definitely worth the trip. The sky reflected across the large span of the lake, emulating an infinite sea of stars against the darkness. And there she was at the center of it all. Specks of silver adorned her eyes as she looked on, absolutely starstruck.
Striking was the only word that came to mind.
“Amazing,” she marveled, barely above a whisper.
I stole another glance. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
She was as beautiful as the day I lost her.
I can still see the light in her eyes. And I could see that spark fading just as quickly when I caught her, just before her head hit the floor. I can still see the elegance and poise she carried herself with, her spirit—and her limp body as I held her close, and she stained my clothes red.
I can still feel her warmth, and the cold touch of her skin as she trembled in my arms. I can still feel the touch of her hand, and the crushing wave of helplessness that washed over me when she clung to me like a lifeline. And I can still feel when she finally let go.
She haunts my dreams and lives in my mind. My heart is torn between remembering her and forgetting her. The agony was akin to the sting of a thousand paper cuts—the ache of every movement unforgiving, wounds invisible yet bleeding myself dry. Should I tear my heart out, would I find peace? Is it better to have never loved?
I stood at the shore and gazed upon the water. In a moment of delusion, the illusion seemed otherworldly, like a space between heaven and earth.
If I threw myself into the infinite sea of stars, could I find that spark in her eye again?