Ashes of Iris

by Stephanie Poscente

  Her insecurities felt even more ridiculous when she spoke them out loud, but Lukas did not laugh, as she had expected. Instead, he sighed. His eyes were soft as he spoke.

  “You are. If we had been able to break this curse on our own, do you truly believe we would have waited so many years? Never have I experienced what I have in these past days with you. To speak and be heard, to stand and be seen, those are things I thought had been lost to me forever.”

  “What about the woman in your house?”

  Lukas's body twitched away from her, his eyes wide with shock. Sophie stepped back, startled by his reaction and fearful that his rage would return. They stood in silence. A thrumming of insects in a nearby bush stirred the air around them.

  When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was hoarse.

  “How do you-”

  “I'm sorry,” Sophie cut him off and raised her hands. “I didn't mean anything. Please, I won't say a word.”

  He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it a second later and looked at her with confusion filling his dark eyes.

  “Really,” she went on. “I won't tell them anything else.”

  “Them?” he demanded. “Who?”

  “Fantir and Rausch,” Sophie hung her head, sure of the crashing anger that would fall upon her at any moment. “I brought it up by accident. But, Lukas, I didn't mean anything by it.”

  He waved his hands through the air, shaking his head.

  “None of that matters,” he said, looking at her again. When he saw the fear in her eyes, he smiled. “I'm not angry,” he said gently, “only surprised. You saw her?”

  “No,” Sophie admitted, relief flooding through her. “I heard her speaking, when I was leaving the other day. You had shut the door and I didn't know where to go, so I stood there. And then she started talking.”

  His eyes closed and his smile widened.

  “What must you have thought?” he murmured.

  “I thought it was strange,” she answered, “but I heard you speak after, knowing she couldn't hear you. Fantir seems to think you're taking a risk somehow, by revealing yourself to her.”

  “It was a risk,” Lukas nodded, “in the beginning. She was frightened, but eventually understood. Not many have that capacity.”

  Sophie’s thoughts returned to the memory of Annka’s fate, to the pain she had suffered so many years ago, and she braced herself against the onslaught of pity. She looked at Lukas, wondering if the woman in the cottage had replaced his former love. He watched her as she struggled to ask him without sounding foolish.

  “Who is she?” The question sounded innocent enough, but he frowned at the implication.

  “She is merely a tool to me,” he whispered. “Leave your romantic nonsense behind you. A more urgent matter is at hand, you might remember. Your sudden,” he paused for a moment, closing his eyes, “relationship, has created a potential problem for us. You must discover his intentions, before he finds the means to enter the castle.”

  With a wave of nauseous anxiety, Sophie remembered her invitation the night before. She did not tell Lukas, afraid of his reaction.

  “How am I supposed to do that?” she asked instead. “I can't come right out and ask, can I?”

  “No,” he shook his head, “I do not believe that would be the wisest route. He would lie, I am sure, and it would put him on guard. Watch for signs. He will want access to the castle without seeming suspicious; perhaps he is using you for that.”

  “He is not using me,” she retorted, heat rising in her cheeks.

  “Regardless,” Lukas looked at her in earnest, “you must be alert. Your instincts should have sent you warnings when he took you to the church.”

  “Are you spying on me?” she asked with mounting edginess. “You've been watching us? And how do you know all of this, anyway? Where do you get all this information?”

  He rolled his eyes again, his frustration obvious.

  “Get a grip on yourself,” he said. “Simply because I cannot be heard does not mean I cannot hear.”

  “Eavesdropping. How tactful of you.”

  “Perhaps this is amusing to you?” Annoyance saturated his voice, and she immediately regretted her words. “Let me assure you, I am not inclined to laugh. Too many years have I been imprisoned and now that my single ray of hope is a tourist,” he spat the word, “with no conscious desire to be of any use to anyone, I am not particularly cheerful.”

  The pout on Sophie's face did nothing to dissuade his opinion, but she refused to take part in his senseless anger. His words lacked the intensity she was used to, and she knew he spoke them only out of shallow frustration. She stood motionless before him and watched him carefully.

  “Alright,” she said finally. “I'll pay attention. But don't think that your insults have anything to do with that. There is no reason for you to be so mean.”

  With that, she turned away, waiting for him to lead her toward the castle. He passed her in silence, and she followed, silently grateful that he kept his pace slow. She did not want to stumble her way through the brush a third time. When they approached the courtyard, he slowed further so that she was walking directly beside him. She looked up into his face and saw him gazing toward the patio, where Katie and a few of her guests were sitting.

  “Your sister?” he asked, motioning toward Katie sitting in the center of the group, her hair shining brilliantly in the sunlight and her smile flashing, showing bright white teeth even over the distance.

  “That's her,” Sophie muttered, waiting for his reaction to her beauty.

  “She does not resemble you at all,” he said quietly, and she grimaced.

  “Yeah, I know. Oh well, we can't all be beauty queens.”

  He looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted. She did not meet his gaze, but nodded her head and thanked him before striding forward.

  “Wait,” he called. She stopped just before the boundary of trees, but did not speak. “Tell Fantir that I understand.”

  Sophie turned in shock, but he had already disappeared into the shadows.

  The day passed quickly, with Aunt Marilyn fluttering between nervous hysteria and unreserved excitement. Her aunt's demeanor filtered to the newly settled guests, as everywhere she went Sophie was met with cheerful faces and breathless conversation.

  Her parents retired to their room for a brief rest before the rehearsal dinner, and while Katie was spending most of her time surrounded by her girlfriends – excluding the now infamous Natalie – Brian was left to host and mingle with various family members and business associates. Sophie did not envy him that, grateful to keep her distance and maintain solitude.

  Every inch of the castle seemed to be crawling with anticipation. Try as she might, Sophie was hard pressed to find a quiet space to gather her thoughts. Even her own room seemed to adopt an air of nervousness. She was resigned to walk the halls, taking precaution not to put herself in the path of unwelcome conversation. However, while she trundled over the polished stone floors, she was met by a peculiar looking man in a thick wool suit. A kind face smiled from under a shock of curly grey hair.

  “You must be the other Iris,” he said warmly, taking her hand and patting it.

  “I suppose I am,” she answered. “Sophie. Nice to meet you.”

  “Ah, Sophie,” he nodded. “Yes, of course. My name is Wilton Avery. I am an old acquaintance of the groom. Exceptionally old, I regret.”

  He guffawed loudly and slapped his knee. Sophie raised her eyebrows with a smile.

  “A pleasure nonetheless, my dear,” he continued. “Say, how's about accompanying an old man on a walk? Pretty girl like you would kick my old ego up a notch or two.”

  “Of course,” she replied with a polite laugh. He stuck out an arm which she wrapped around her own, the thick grey wool making her skin itch, and they began to stroll casually through the hall.

  “You said you know Brian?” she asked.

  “Thoroug
hly,” he replied, and Sophie wondered at his answer. He laughed at her bewildered expression and patted her hand. “I delivered him. His mother was very young when he was born and I was fortunate enough to be on call that evening. Came into the world with a vengeance, that boy did, and he's still at it. Causing a ruckus everywhere he goes.”

  Sophie laughed.

  “And you've remained close all these years?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Wilton nodded with a smile. “I have known the Hunters for many years. Brian has helped me through many an old man's trials. Replaced a hip some years back, almost free of charge.”

  He winked at her.

  “It sounds like you are very close,” Sophie smiled in response. “He must be very happy you've come all this way.”

  “Well, now,” he paused. “I would hope that's true. Haven't had much of a chance to discuss it, to be frank. He's a busy man, even the day before his own wedding.”

  “It has been slightly chaotic.”

  Wilton let out another boyish laugh.

  “You are diplomatic, Sophie,” he chortled. “I do believe when one finds a woman wandering the halls alone in times such as these, one must assume she has chosen avoidance as a tool for survival.”

  With a shrug, Sophie shot him a coy look and he laughed again. They walked on in comfortable silence, until a voice called out from behind them.

  “Avery, you old dog, you've got your hooks in my sister-in-law already?”

  “There he is,” Wilton chided, “the man of the hour.”

  Brian sidled up to them, giving Sophie a quick smile before taking the old man up in a warm embrace.

  “Jesus, Wilt,” Brian stepped back. “How old is that suit? You smell like an old shoe closet.”

  “Not the suit, my boy,” Wilton straightened his jacket. “What you smell is the musk of old age. You'll come to be familiar with it soon enough.”

  “Nice.” Brian turned to Sophie. “You alright?” he asked quietly. “I'm sorry about the other day. Everything is fine, and I wanted to make sure you enjoy yourself tonight. No worries, you hear me?”

  “Sure,” she nodded. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have-”

  He held up his hands to silence her. “No worries.”

  With a quick nod, Sophie shot him a smile and turned to Wilton.

  “I see you've got your hands full now,” she said, “and I should find out if anyone needs me. It was nice meeting you.”

  “And you, my dear, and you. Keep your chin up, and don't forget to save a dance for an old fellow.”

  She grinned and turned away, hastening through the halls in search of her sister. Despite their earlier quarrel, Brian's words solidified her decision to set things straight.

  “No worries,” she repeated to herself, turning the corner and bumping right into her aunt and mother, who were arguing quietly in the doorway of the dining room.

  “Goodness, Sophie, you about gave me a heart attack,” Aunt Marilyn spluttered.

  Carol put her hands on her hips and gave her daughter a stern look.

  “Where are you running off to? We need some help, in case you've forgotten.”

  “I was just looking for Katie, actually. To see if there was anything you need me to do,” Sophie responded, smiling despite the frigidity of her mother's tone.

  “She's busy,” Carol responded. “You can go into the kitchen and make sure the appetizers are ready to be distributed.”

  Sophie nodded and turned to leave, but her mother seized her arm and pulled her back.

  “Forget it, I'll do it myself. Apparently I have to do everything myself, otherwise all hell breaks loose.”

  With that, she stormed off, her heels clicking with obnoxious volume against the stone tiles. Aunt Marilyn turned to Sophie with a sympathetic smile.

  “She has a lot on her mind,” she said, patting Sophie's arm. “How are you feeling? Have you spoken to Jude today? Don't forget to invite him to the wedding. What a shame it would be to waste such a wonderful opportunity.”

  “I haven't heard from him,” she shrugged, keeping her voice even. Even his name evoked flutters in her stomach, but she fought against them, remembering Lukas's words. “Are you busy? There's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh, shoot,” Aunt Marilyn looked over her shoulder. “I'm expected in the dining room to arrange last minute seating changes. Can I take a rain-check? After dinner, maybe?”

  “Sure, yeah,” Sophie nodded. “Go. Do your thing. Is there anything for me to do?”

  “Wake up your dad,” Aunt Marilyn called as she walked away, “he needs to get moving.”

  A few minutes later, Sophie knocked on her father’s bedroom door. She heard her dad call out from inside, his voice muffled as though he were under a thick blanket. She pushed the door open, peeking through the crack. Tim was seated on the edge of the bed, shirtless and tanned, with his head in his hands. He did not stir when she knocked again, lightly, and she stepped into the room with slight hesitation.

  “Dad?” she asked quietly.

  At the sound of her voice, he jumped, looking at her with widened eyes.

  “Oh, Sophie,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I thought it was that damn housekeeper again. That woman takes her work seriously. I haven't gotten a lick of sleep in two hours, she keeps banging that door asking if I need a 'tidy up'.”

  “Hm,” Sophie replied, unsure of how to respond. He gave her a weak smile and ran his hands through his tangled hair.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Marilyn sent you?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “She says you need to get up.”

  He did not respond, but sighed again and lowered his head into his hands.

  “You okay, Dad?” she asked, moving to sit beside him. “I haven't seen much of you lately. Mom's been keeping you busy, I guess.”

  “I'm okay, kiddo,” he replied, pulling a hand away from his head and patting her leg. “Your mother has indeed been keeping me busy. She's making me crazy, I tell you, not sure how much longer I can stand it. But then, it's all for Katie.”

  “Soon it’ll all be over and she'll be whisked away to wherever for her honeymoon,” Sophie said, hoping to raise his spirits, but he shook his head.

  “I can't believe it,” he muttered. “It seems like yesterday we were taking her to her first day of school, and now she's getting married.”

  “I know.”

  Silence surrounded them, broken only by Tim's heavy breathing, and Sophie wondered how long he planned to sit here dwelling on the inevitable. She understood, to some extent. She had heard stories about fathers falling to pieces on their daughters' wedding day. It was to be expected that her own father would be emotional, given that his own precious daughter was about to become a wife.

  Even still, Sophie had a hard time finding the words to comfort him.

  “Well,” she said, rising to her feet. “I should go, you need to get dressed. I wouldn't linger, Aunt Marilyn's orders, and Mom's on a mission.”

  She turned to leave, but he grabbed her by the wrist.

  “Sophie,” he said, surprising her with his strained voice. “I'm sorry for the way things have turned out. It was never meant to be like this. I've been a lousy father, and I know that, but I don't know where it all went wrong. When your sister came along,” he paused, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, “everything changed. You know I love you, right? You do know that?”

  His words made her flinch, being entirely uncharacteristic, and she looked around awkwardly before responding.

  “Of course,” she said, giving him a small smile. His eyes were wet with tears and she felt a heavy sadness as she looked at him. “I love you, too.”

  He sniffed loudly, patted her hand and stood. The familiar smell of his cologne wafted to her, immersing her in a wave of nostalgia, but she fought it away.

  “The show must go on,” he said, heading for the bathroom. “See you in a bit, kiddo.”

  With a small wave, Sophie left the ro
om, closing the door and leaning against the wall. The words her father had spoken trampled through her mind in jumbled herds. She knew their relationship was strained, especially since she made the move to live with his brother, but never before had he expressed regret. There were only undertones of discomfort between them, the real issues having always been ignored. Now, though, Sophie was taken aback by his sudden sentiment and unsure of how she should react.

  Not long after, when she had changed for dinner, she was just pulling the door of her room shut when the sound of the phone made her pause. She pushed open the door and ran to the bedside table, pulling up the receiver and trying to breathe evenly. She knew who it was before she spoke.

  “Hello?”

  “Sophie?” Jude's voice met her ear. “It's Jude.”

  “Hi,” she said, feeling suddenly anxious. “How are you?”

  “I've been waiting all day to speak to you,” he said. “I thought I might have been too late, and you'd already be at dinner.”

  “Nope, just heading out the door.”

  “I won't keep you long, just wanted to hear your voice,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You holding up alright?”

  “I think so,” she answered, feeling the jittery butterflies threatening to bombard her. “It's almost over.”

  “Think positive,” he said. “I'll be there to help you through it tomorrow.”

  His words reminded her of Lukas's warning.

  “Oh, um,” she stammered, unsure of what to say, “tomorrow. I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  “Uh oh,” his voice went quiet. “Am I being uninvited?”

  “No,” she responded instantly, struck by the disappointment in his voice. “Of course not. I just wanted to,” she paused, searching for words, “to remind you to be here early, around noon. So that we can talk, you know, before.”

  She heard him sigh, and mentally kicked herself for being such a coward.

  “I'll be there,” he said. “Try and enjoy your night.”

  “You too.”

  She hung up the phone, falling onto her bed and laughing darkly. Her cowardice only solidified the doubt in her mind that she would be able to stand firm against Jude's allure and heed Lukas's warning. She knew the importance of being cautious, but her emotional reaction to him clouded her judgment. Covering her eyes with her arm, she sighed. Regardless of her doubts, tomorrow would come and with it a trial she could never have predicted.