Chapter 1

In the manor I lived in, there were only two rules. Don’t cause trouble, and don’t go outside. The vitamin deficiency was apparent in my appearance. My hair seemed limp and lifeless, my skin was almost papery white and sickly looking, and my cheeks were sunken from self-neglect. Appearances had never meant much to me anyway, though I knew it wasn’t about appearances. 

 

My mother spent most of her time in town with friends. I never knew what she did, but sometimes she’d be out all night. I knew there were whispers of an affair, and it wouldn’t surprise me. Cas, my father, was practically a prisoner in his study, which took up the entire top floor. It had been converted into an observatory some decades ago by his grandparents, who had owned the house before him. I imagined he didn’t spend much time with my mother, Elyssia. I often wondered what I would do in her situation. The more I thought about it, the more I felt for her. Elyssia had never been much of a mother to me, but honestly, I don’t blame her one bit. 

Remember 

 

Despite Cas’ isolation, he did seek company. Just not my mother’s. I didn’t think he liked her very much. Instead, he called on me. It didn’t happen often, but most of the time, it was in the middle of the night. I liked to think he believed we were the same. 

 

Rynie, the butler, delivered the summons and handed me a candle before departing. I waited for the glow of his candle to fade before I made my way through the haunted halls. Every creak my steps made echoed around me. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. What little light slipped past the dusty velvet curtains that were draped over the tall windows, from either the moon or sun, cast shadows that seemed to follow you. Tonight, however, the curtains were firmly shut. The small candle that lit my way only revealed small portions at a time. It was like the floor and walls ceased to exist after the light slipped past it. At the end of the hallway, there was a door different from the others. While the doors lining the walls were painted white, this one was barren. The rusty doorknob protested as I turned it.

 

Instead of a room, I was greeted by a long winding staircase. I took gentle steps, afraid the old wood would give beneath me. 

Another door met me at the top. Light spilled into the staircase as I opened it. Around the room, the walls were lined with books and still more were stacked in large piles everywhere on the floor. The room was kept clean besides the desk Cas sat behind, which was cluttered with pages, notes, and drawings of magical creatures. I stood at the door for a few minutes, watching him mumble to himself and rub his temples. I couldn’t make out what he was musing over. It looked to be a foreign language made of strange ruins. 

 

“Sit down.” It was one of the few times I’d ever heard him speak. His voice was rough from lack of use, but it was sweet, too. He reminded me of Rapunzel locked away in a tall tower. Only he was a prince. His hair was black as ink, and so long that it fell in his eyes. I was always surprised to see his young face cleanly shaven. It was as if time never touched him, but his eyes, a deep ocean green, carried the weight of the world. He leaned back in his chair and gazed past the glass dome above us. The stars shined brightly despite the light in the room. 

 

“Every night I sit and stare at the same set of stars. Year by year, I see my life slowly tick away. And yet, when the sun rises, I find myself colder than ever before. Why is that, do you think?” he asked. 

 

I cleared my throat. “We are what our hearts have adopted. Whether we have wished for it or not, we have adopted coldness and darkness into our lives, therefore, we feel more comfortable at night.” 

 

A small empty smile graced his face. “Your mother seems to disagree with that. She is just as cold as the rest of us, and yet she wilts away in the sun and sleeps the night away. What do you say to that?” 

 

I furrowed my brow “She isn’t like us. Not really. I think more than anything, she has bitterness and anger.” 

 

 

He sat there and mused that over for a while and for a second, I saw regret in his eyes. “It’s easier to be angry than it is to admit you’re hurting.” 

 

There are a lot of things easier to admit than being hurt. For me, being numb is much preferable to the loneliness I didn’t especially feel, but rather knew was there. Perhaps that’s how he and I are alike. 

 

I knew then that despite the fact we didn’t speak much, we understood each other. I knew our conversation was over. I helped myself to a soft armchair, moving the books and papers aside. Curious, I sorted through the books around me until I found one that caught my fancy. It was a book about cyphers. I read over each and every one of them, trying to solve the examples they gave in my head. I recognized some of them from the writings on Cas’ desk. When I reached the final page, I tucked the book under my arm and left. 

 

Like my father, I had taken to staring out my window, although not for quite as long as he did. I found it amusing and fascinating watching things move and grow. While Cas took to the sky, I found the ground much more intriguing. There was always something new to see if you knew where to look. There was a scrub jay’s nest in a long dead tree and a cat all by his lonesome self. At night, an owl would visit the birds. Apparently he and the mother were friends. I’d grown unreasonably attached to the animals. I realized these attachments may be a double edged sword. Then it occurred to me why my father watched the sky. There is nothing to love in the vast emptiness, nothing except the stars for company. 

 

 

Whenever I saw those animals, it made me long for a friend. Just someone to talk to, even if they couldn’t talk back. I didn’t think I had ever been outside, though I vaguely recalled being there once. Just once. With a boy who used to play and smile with me. It felt like a distant dream, but so real at the same time. Whether it was a memory or a dream, I’d like to pretend it was real all the same. 

 

I would like to think of my room as a safe place. Somewhere in this house where I could feel at peace. However, it only felt like a cage. It was one of the few places in this house where the colors didn’t look quite so grim. Like the rest of the house, red velvet curtains hung beside a large bay window. Only these curtains were almost always open. Along the walls, bookshelves were carved with intricate designs with flowers and animals. My favorites were the lions carved proudly on either side of the fireplace. 

 

Everything was white aside from the assortment of books, which ranged from all sorts of colors and all sorts of sizes. My bed was adorned with red as well, although I hardly slept in it. My headboard was made from brass curled and shaped like vines. On the dark hardwood floors, a red and gold rug decorated the center of the room. The colors seemed to jump off the rest of the bland neutral colors. 

Out of the window, I could see the courtyard. Despite being overrun by weeds and thorns, so many colorful flowers grew. I kept a flower dictionary beside the window as I tried to identify what I could, though at best, all I had were mere guesses. 

 

 

Just beyond the courtyard lay what appeared to be an endless forest, as I could see nothing but sky past it. I knew there was a cliff there somewhere. I adored this view despite the appearance of abandonment that made me feel even more isolated. I often wondered if I actually existed, or if I was a ghost haunting this house, doomed forever. 

 

Eventually, I heard the door crack open behind me, breaking me out of my trance. I glanced in that direction. I saw my mother’s carefully hidden concern behind her stern glare. 

 

“Do you intend to waste away looking out that window?” she asked. 

 

At first, I was confused. I had only just sat down, but then, how long had I been sitting here? “It isn’t my intention. How long have I been here?” 

 

“Almost two days. Come out and eat,” she replied, still in her careful tone. 

 

I glanced at the tray next to the door. The bread had long since become stale, and the meat most likely bad. Seeing it made my stomach growl, but I didn’t want to eat. The idea made me nauseous. 

 

“Maybe later,” I said, returning my gaze to the courtyard. 

 

“Wednesday, you need to come out sometime.” 

 

I sighed. “What’s the point? There is nothing for me. At the very least if you would let me go outside—” 

 

 

“It’s unladylike to prance around in the dirt like a little street rat,” she snapped. 

 

I swallowed. “I know.” 

 

I had turned toward the window once more. I heard her sigh behind me. In a way, it sounded like she pitied me more than she was exasperated with me. I suppose she couldn’t find her words because she left, closing the door behind her. 

Right before the door closed, though, I just barely heard her say. “Please eat.” 

 

Just like that, I felt a wave of pain and sadness fill me. Sadness was welcome to someone who spent most of their time numb. And since happiness was such a foreign concept, feeling anything was welcome, even though it was unpleasant. 

 

I did my best to ignore the rumbling in my stomach, but hunger pushed me to leave my room. I made my way down the grand cherry wood staircase, which curved along the wall leading to the foyer. In the kitchen, Mrs. April busied around, scolding the two kitchen boys, Conner and James. When Mrs. April saw me, she pushed me to the small table by the window before rushing to prepare me more food than I could ever hope to finish. Mrs. April knew that I didn’t eat much, so when I decided to, she made sure I ate well. 

 

“There ye go, love. Make sure to eat it all,” she said. 

 

I muttered a thanks and picked at the food a bit. Mostly though, I just watched James busy around, with little Conner on his tail, tripping over his too-long apron. He must have been no older than six. 

 

When April’s back was turned, James picked at the cinnamon bread. April whipped around and started waving a rolling pin around. “Oh, just wait till I get my hands on ye!” 

 

 I knew she wouldn’t hit him, though. I started laughing, and that put a huge grin on James’ face. He started taunting April by sticking his tongue out at her, which he instantly regretted. If she was just playing with him before, she was furious now. James’ eyes bulged in fear, so he hopped onto the counter, sending pots and pans crashing to the floor and out the window. 

 

James came back after ten minutes when April had calmed down. Still, she grabbed his ear and gave him a good chastising. Conner kept glancing at my plate, and my heart throbbed with guilt. I knew his family’s situation, and he must not get very much food. I suddenly felt very ashamed for starving on purpose. Though a knot had formed in my stomach, I tried to push past it and eat as much as I could. 

The boys were finally given a lunch break, but I had hardly touched mine. I watched them unwrap a small sandwich each and a slice of cake with a bit of glaze. Conner frowned at his share and ran over to me, his apron balled up in his fist to keep from tripping. 

At first I felt bad for them, but I was curious to see what Conner was doing. I made a decision to share some of my food with them. Even if I did eat regularly, there was easily enough for three servings. 

 

 

“Would you and your brother like to—” Conner thrust his hand out in front of me, holding the cake. 

“Whenever I don’t feel good, I can always still eat sweets. Please eat something Miss Wednesday,” he said, giving me the sweetest puppy dog eyes, big and brown, and full of concern. 

 

I accepted it. “Only if you help me,” Conner’s face lit up. And so he and James joined me. I asked April to bring two more plates and I distributed equal shares to their plates after she insisted on warming it up. We ate and laughed at Conner’s funny stories and James’ impressions of some of the nobles who visited. Even April joined us, though I know she disapproved. I think she was just happy I was eating, and I did eat. I cleaned my plate. 

 

A few hours later, Conner and James said their goodbyes and I found myself back in my room. I didn’t understand what it was that caused me to isolate myself despite my loneliness. Maybe it was because I was so used to being lonely that I craved isolation. Whatever the reason, I was alone again. I tucked my knees to my chest and began to let misery swallow me once more. 

 

A knock on the door made me jump. “Come in!” 

 

“Wednesday,” It was Elyssia again. “I want you to look your best tomorrow. The Bentleys are coming and I won’t have you embarrass me.” 

 

I rolled my eyes in exasperation but nodded. “May I inquire as to the occasion?” 

 

 

“Your betrothal to Benedict, of course,” she said, as if I  should have known. My cheeks went a bit red from anger. 

 

“I won’t meet with him,” I said firmly. 

 

“This isn’t up for negotiation,” she replied. 

 

I crossed my arms and stared her down. Eventually, she sighed. “What will it take to get you to meet with him?” 

 

My eyebrows shot up. That completely caught me off guard. It irritated me that she was so eager to be rid of me that she had resorted to bargaining, but I decided not to say anything. I thought for a minute. What did I want? What would be worth meeting with Lord Boring? There was only one thing that came to mind. 

 

“Let me go outside.”