Ashes of Iris

by Stephanie Poscente

  “After,” he snarled, the sound making Sophie's skin crawl. “There was no after. Have you not noticed what I am? Does none of this seem out of the ordinary to you?”

  “Y-yes,” she stammered, still avoiding eye contact. “It does. I-I just meant-”

  “I know what you meant,” he spat. “I thought you were a bright girl.”

  Tears stung behind Sophie's eyes as his anger penetrated her weakened emotions. She did not try to speak. Instead, she rose from her chair and turned to the door, hesitating only when she realized that the way home was unfamiliar. A snort of amusement from behind pushed her feet forward and she pulled the door open swiftly, stepping into the haze of the morning. With no idea of which direction to go, she took a few steps into the yard. Her body jerked reflexively when his hand gripped her shoulder.

  “How do you expect to find your way?” he said, pulling her around.

  “I don't know,” she mumbled, embarrassed but unwilling to re-enter the house.

  “The correct answer is, you won't,” he said. When she looked up at him, she saw that the mask of hostility and anger had faded, leaving derision in its place. “Come inside.”

  “No.”

  “Don't be difficult. I haven't finished answering your questions.”

  Sophie sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Knowing that she looked like a stubborn child, she stood her ground when he pushed open the door and motioned for her to enter. He watched her for a moment, shrugged, and re-entered the house, closing the door behind him.

  When he had gone, the building tears began to stream from her eyes. She swiped at her face to clear them away, but they did not cease.

  “Get a grip, Sophie,” she whispered.

  Before she made to leave, she took one last look at the closed door, fighting the urge to stick out her tongue, and turned away. When she took a step, she heard the faintest trill of a woman's voice. Freezing mid-stride, Sophie cocked her ears and waited. Another moment passed before she heard a flurry of hushed whispers, coming from inside the cottage. Being sure to make no sound, she stepped to the door and leaned in, barely pressing her ear to the wood.

  “...can't leave her...,” she heard a female voice say, though the words were muffled and she caught only a few of them.

  There was silence for a moment.

  “Tried!” the female voice rang loudly, followed by a loud sigh. “...need to control... anger... she was probably afraid...”

  Sophie strained to hear the words clearly, closing her eyes and pressing her ear harder into the wood of the door.

  There was another hush, this one longer. Sophie was beginning to think the woman had gone when her voice rang out again.

  “Don't try that on me, Lukas,” she said, and Sophie jolted away from the door. The voice was near. It sounded as though the woman was standing directly in front of her. With a step back, Sophie prepared to flee, but after a few seconds, and when the door remained closed, she returned her ear to its surface.

  The woman was speaking again, her voice muffled and further away.

  “This means something. You are willing to give it all up because of these ridiculous ideas. Let it go. She was sent to you for a reason.”

  “To aggravate me,” she heard Lukas's voice say, but the woman did not answer. After a few moments, Sophie heard a sigh and a rustle. When no one spoke, she peeled herself from the door and jogged through the yard, passing into the shadow of trees without a sound. She turned again, glancing toward the house, but it might as well have been vacant, for there was no movement without or within.

  Choosing a path she hoped would take her in the direction of the castle she maneuvered through the branches and brush with as much speed as she could muster; her breath was heavy with the effort. Circling a wide tree trunk, Sophie stumbled to a halt, letting out a faint scream as she almost ran headlong into a tall figure standing in her path.

  “Let me lead you back,” Lukas said, not looking into her face as he spoke. He turned and took a path perpendicular to the one she had been traveling.

  She hesitated before following, knowing she would never find the way on her own, and traced his quick strides with her own faltering steps. Twice she fell, her knees scraping against the roughness of the forest floor, but he did not slow. Only when he approached the edge of the courtyard did he stop. Sophie stumbled up to him, clutching her sides and leaning forward.

  “How did you,” she panted, “how did you do that?”

  “What?” he kept his gaze straight forward, his voice was cold.

  “Catch up with me,” she explained, standing straight and putting her hands on her hips, hoping to look as dignified and haughty as Katie did in such a position. The dirt on her shorts and blood on her knees did nothing to help her.

  “We've been through this,” he said.

  “Maybe you have,” she countered, “but I still don't understand a damn thing!”

  Her yell surprised him and he turned with raised eyebrows.

  “There is no need to get angry,” he said, a smile playing on the edge of his lips.

  Sophie threw up her hands in frustration and stormed away from him, this time feeling thoroughly satisfied with her exit as she yanked on the handle of the French door and slammed it with a crash behind her. The glass vibrated violently when she did, threatening to shatter from the jarring impact. An angry smirk crossed her face, but only for a moment.

  As she turned into the main entrance, Katie emerged from the corridor opposite, storming toward her with equal ferocity and before she knew what was happening, a cold, thin hand connected with the side of her face, bringing tears to her eyes and sending her head snapping to the side. Her hand flew to her already blotched and reddened cheek, and she stared at her sister in shock, the sting of the impact piercing her skin.

  “How dare you?” Katie screeched, her voice bounced around the room, magnified by the open space. “Who do you think you are?”

  “Katie,” Sophie whispered, her voice barely audible because of the sudden shock. “I don't know what you're saying. What is the matter with you?”

  “Me?” Katie shrieked, her normally beautiful face splotched and contorted in her fury. “My own sister is a two-timing slut and there is something the matter with me!”

  “Excuse me?” The shock faded and through the lingering tingle of pain, anger began to stir once more. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Don't play dumb with me, Sophie. Natalie told me all about what she saw. I will never, never forgive you for this.”

  “Natalie?” Sophie repeated. It took a moment, but something clicked in her mind and she laughed at the lunacy of her sister’s accusation.

  Katie raised her hand to strike again, but Sophie seized her wrist, an unfamiliar and satisfying rage flashing in her eyes.

  “Don't. Touch. Me.” The snarl came out low and menacing, and Katie tried to shrink away, but Sophie kept her grip firm. “If you ever hit me again, sister,” she hissed the word, “you'll be sorry. As for your information, I'd turn my anger on the source, if I were you.”

  “Let go,” Katie whimpered and Sophie released her grasp. Katie rubbed her wrist and looked at her sister with pursed lips. “Are you saying that Natalie and Brian...” her voice trailed away, a look of pain marring her beautiful features.

  “Don't ask me for anything, Katie,” Sophie retorted, stepping around her sister. “I suggest you choose your friends a little more carefully.”

  A long, hot shower and thirty minutes of hair-drying later, Sophie's anger had been replaced with a warm relaxation. She hummed quietly, pulling the hairbrush through her black hair and admiring the deep violet fabric of the borrowed robe as it contrasted with her pale skin. The light pink bruise on her cheek had faded and she smoothed a layer of foundation on her skin with her fingertips.

  The satisfying release of fury played back in her mind like an old film, but the guilt she had expected to accompany it did not surface. Instead, she felt peaceful, relie
ved. Even the thought of her dinner with Jude did not quicken her pulse, despite the flutter in her stomach when she imagined his warm, blue eyes.

  It wasn't a date, she had said, vehemently, with such conviction that she herself had believed the statement. The excitement in her heart and butterflies in her stomach were telling her a much different story as she pulled open her bedroom door thirty minutes later and bounced down the hall.

  Upon reaching the base of the stairway that would take her up to the ballroom, Sophie heard her mother speaking quietly. The whispers echoed down the stone walls.

  “I never expected this either,” she was saying, “but I think it's time we do something. She is old enough to know the truth, and especially now that she has turned on her own sister.”

  “There are two sides to every story, Carol.” Sophie expected to hear her father's voice, but instead the hushed whispers of Aunt Marilyn met her ears. “I'm sure you are only hearing what Katie wants to tell.”

  “Leave it to you to take her side, Marilyn,” Carol hissed. “What more could I have expected? Spare me the sob story of poor little neglected Sophie. I got more than enough of that when Gus was alive.”

  Sophie's heart stopped, and her feet froze to the floor despite the urge she felt to run to her aunt's aid. There was silence for a moment before Aunt Marilyn sucked in a deep breath.

  “Tell her, then,” she whispered. “She deserves to know the truth. She deserves more than you were ever willing to give her. Be my guest, Carol. Tell her. But don't come crying to me when you lose the only daughter you have that would be willing to put herself on the line for you, despite your inadequate mothering. Lord knows you've spoiled the other one into utter uselessness.”

  Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, giving Sophie only enough time to slink around the wall, crouching into a tight alcove. She watched her mother stomp down the hall and out of sight, her blond head shaking from side to side all the while as though she were muttering curses under her breath. The moment she was out of sight, Sophie scrambled from her hiding place and flew two steps at a time, up to her aunt. When she reached the open landing, there was no one in sight.

  With mounting apprehension, Sophie ventured toward the ballroom. Nearing the open doors, the bustling sound of work mingled with the hum of conversation. A quick scan of the room told her Aunt Marilyn had not come that way, and she turned to leave. Brian called out to her from across the room, waving a hand in her direction. She paused, taking a deep breath and casting her eyes upward.

  “Sophie,” he called, running toward her. “Hey, wait a minute. Can I talk to you?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Sophie turned around, smiling meekly. “Sure.”

  “Listen,” he grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the doorway, his grip tight. “I'm not sure what happened between you and Katie, but she's pretty upset.”

  Sophie pulled her arm from Brian's grasp and put her hands on her hips.

  “Why should she be upset?” she said, keeping her voice even despite her frustration. “I mean, she's not the one that got slapped in the face and called a slut, is she?”

  “What are you talking about?” Brian's eyes widened. “She said you lost your temper and attacked her.”

  “Nice,” Sophie muttered. “Look, I don't want to get in the middle of whatever this is. All I know is that she was told that you and I,” she paused, looking uncomfortable, “were involved, and she got a little unscrewed.”

  Brian stared at Sophie with furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open. After a minute, when it proved he would not reply, Sophie went on.

  “I did lose my temper,” she said, putting her hands up in surrender. “I'll admit it, but she took me by surprise and I was already upset.”

  “Why would she think you and I were involved?” he asked finally, rubbing his hands over his face. “Who could have told her such a thing?”

  “Natalie,” Sophie replied, “apparently.”

  “Oh, for the love of god,” Brian exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “This childish bullshit is wearing me thin. What next?”

  “I suppose that's what happens when you get involved with a twenty-one year old girl and her friends,” Sophie said. She regretted her words instantly when Brian's face went from exasperated to thoughtful, and from thoughtful to resigned.

  “You're right,” he said, nodding once. “What am I thinking, Sophie? Of course you're right.”

  “No,” she said, reaching out to seize his arm as he turned to leave. “No, please. I didn't mean it like that. Brian-”

  But he pulled away from her and hurried down the hall, leaving her to stand alone, all thought of her aunt and the conversation she had overheard washed from her mind. She took a step forward and hesitated, silently praying that he would change his mind and return. As she waited, a clatter of dishes and rush of angry voices behind her made her jump in surprise. Not wanting to become involved in that drama, she bolted from the ballroom, avoiding the path Brian had taken.

  As she travelled through empty rooms, not entirely sure of where she was heading, Sophie pushed the thought of Brian and the trouble she may have caused out of her mind and tried to piece together the conversation she had overheard on the stairwell. Her mother wanted to tell her something, something important. Aunt Marilyn knew what it was. Running through options in her mind, Sophie came up with a few outlandish but potentially possible ideas.

  “Maybe they took me out of the will,” she whispered, laughing quietly, but her aunt's words came back to her and the wry smile was washed from her face.

  She deserves to know the truth.

  With a shake of her head, Sophie continued on, taking a set of stairs down to the second floor. As she passed through a wide hall, voices floated from open doors on her right and she realized that Katie's wedding guests had begun to arrive.

  She hurried down another set of stairs, emerging at the far end of the hall that branched off into the conservatory. Avoiding that door, she followed the hall, passing common rooms and sitting areas, until she entered the front foyer.

  To her surprise, people stood in small groups throughout the entry, carrying on hushed conversations and admiring the architecture and ambiance of the castle. The smell of strong perfume lingered.

  “Sophie, there you are,” Aunt Marilyn came hurrying over, her arms extended. After a quick, and somewhat out of character embrace, she ushered Sophie into the thick of the crowd and began introductions.

  “Katie's sister, that's right,” said an older woman wearing a long purple dress. Her grey hair took on the same purple undertone, making Sophie think of a witches costume she had once worn for Halloween. “You must be so thrilled for your sister. What a blessing, marrying so young.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Sophie nodded, scanning the area for Katie or Brian. “Excuse me.”

  Aunt Marilyn sidled off to another group of unfamiliar faces when Sophie seized her arm and pulled her aside.

  “Ouch, Sophie,” she pulled her arm away with a stern look. “What is the matter with you?”

  “Nothing,” Sophie said. “Sorry. I've been looking for you. There's something-”

  “Not now,” Aunt Marilyn waved her away, rushing over to a young couple that had just entered.

  With a frustrated sigh, Sophie navigated her way through the milling groups and past the wide staircase, heading in the direction of Rausch's room. When she reached the hidden door, a deep voice behind her made her body contract in shock.

  “If it is the old man you seek, you will not find him there.”

  Spinning around, Sophie pressed herself against the wall, keeping her eyes locked on the face of the man she had been warned to avoid.

  “Stay away from me,” she whispered, keenly aware of the people in the entrance. She prayed no one would look in her direction.

  “Come,” he said, motioning for her to follow him as he rounded the stairway and began to climb, his thin fingers trailing along the polished wood of the railing. When he had taken five or six steps
, Sophie bolted from the door and walked briskly toward the hall that would take her away from him, hoping to avoid causing a stir.

  “You met a man in the town,” Fantir's deep, accented voice floated to her ears. She paused.

  “Jude,” she whispered.

  “To trust him would be foolish.”

  She spun around, meeting Fantir's eyes. He stood midway up the stairs, his hands dangling loosely at his sides, and nodded knowingly, motioning once more for her to follow. Despite all the warnings, something in his eyes seized her and she obeyed him, following his lead as he climbed the stairs and glided down a wide hall.

  Near the end of the hall were a set of wide wooden doors. Sophie had tried to enter them once, but they were locked. Now, however, Fantir pushed them open with ease and led her into an impressive bedroom. The walls were lined with ornate wooden panels, each one identical to its neighbor, and the ceiling seemed to be blanketed in delicate silks. A fire crackled in the gaping fireplace.

  With another nod, he led her to one of two armchairs flanking the warm fire.

  She sat, keeping her eyes on him despite a desire to absorb every detail of the beautiful room.

  Taking a seat across from her, his eyes swept over every corner of the room as though he expected something to jump out at him.

  “Well?” she asked after a minute. His presence frightened her, but she thought it best to be as thorough as possible, thinking that it might be her only chance to hear what he had to say.

  “Have I given you reason to fear me?” he asked, leaning forward. “Your eyes are wary, but I have done nothing.”

  “It's only natural to fear things that you don't understand,” Sophie replied, surprising herself by sounding confident. He nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Why can't I trust him?”

  Fantir studied her for a moment and then smiled.

  “He desires what is not to be desired,” he paused. “No, it is unwise.”

  “What is?” Sophie asked.

  “I have you here, now we must discover a way,” he said, ignoring her question. “You are to remain here with me. This time, I will not fail.”