“Would you have believed me?” he asked.
She snorted. The sound echoed through the open room, bouncing from the arched ceiling.
“I've believed stranger things in the past week,” she answered.
“Enough,” Ludwig interrupted. “We must go now.”
“Go?” Sophie said. “To the castle? Are you crazy? There are about a hundred people there right now, you can't go.”
“I will not squander my only opportunity to dispose of her. While you are here, I will take advantage.”
Sophie thought it best not to ask what use she might be to them. While he had spoken, an idea struck her.
“I'll still be here tomorrow,” she answered, keeping her voice even. “Most of the guests will be gone by then.”
“It is not worth the risk for me to spare them in this quest. You will flee.”
“I won't,” she raised her chin in boldness. “Just don't ruin my sister's wedding. She doesn't need to know about any of this, no one does. Wait for a day. Just one more day. Please.”
The minister looked over his shoulder at Jude, who gave a small nod, and then turned back to Sophie. His face was drawn, but his voice still maintained its strength when he spoke.
“Tomorrow, then,” he said. “You have this fool to thank.”
Ludwig motioned to Jude before following Israyel as she headed through the rows of pews toward the small room from which they had entered. Sophie followed, trailed by Ludwig and Jude. As she walked, she noticed a mural on the far wall, the image impacting her as she examined it.
A woman stood, two children clutching her hands on either side, her face so full of confidence that Sophie could almost feel the sensation being displaced into her own heart. Before she stepped through the door at the end of the room, she glanced once more toward the woman in the painting. With a final nod and a prod from Ludwig behind her, she stepped over the threshold, a deep sense of responsibility falling on her heart.
When Israyel pulled the heavy front door open, Sophie was pulled to a stop.
“I will let you leave here only in his company,” Ludwig said, pushing Jude forward. “He will ensure you keep your word.”
She started to protest, but thought better of it. There were still ways she might go through with her plan, even with him trailing behind her.
“Sure,” she replied calmly, “if that’s what you think is best.”
With those words, she turned to Jude. He stepped forward, placing one foot outside and turning back to her. With the tiniest of smiles, he extended a hand.
“After you.”
Chapter 15
The halls were silent when they stepped into the castle. Sophie silently prayed that she hadn't missed the entire ceremony. The door closed with a scrape behind them. Without waiting for Jude to follow, she hurried to the closed doors of the wedding hall and pressed her ear against the thick wood, listening carefully. As she listened, the sound of applause erupted from within. She jumped back in surprise and rushed to the side. As she expected, the doors flew open and out pranced Katie, looking startlingly beautiful in her gown and veil, and Brian beaming beside her.
Sophie pressed herself into the wall behind the door, holding her breath and thanking her luck when they went the opposite way. Jude had followed her, but stood in the open, unafraid and unwilling to hide himself from the emerging guests. They waited until there were only a few stragglers carrying on hushed conversation in the hall before following the throng toward the front entrance.
“What are we doing now?” Jude asked, his voice light.
“Don't bother,” she answered, pulling hastily at the straps of her dress and beating out the dried mud with her hands. “There's no point in acting like nothing happened. You're a liar, and I will not ever forgive you for that. Let's just get through the rest of the day. The less we talk to each other, the better.”
“There is no need for this,” he said, catching her arm and pulling her to a stop.
She wrenched from his grasp, giving him a dark glare.
“There was no need for that either,” she said, her hands flying through the air, fueled by anger. “You are no better than any other criminal to me.”
“I had no choice,” he answered, pleading. “Ludwig wanted to speak to you, he has since the day-”
“The first day you lied to me?” Sophie interrupted. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him search for an excuse, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came. “That's what I thought,” she went on. “Look, I'm not doing this for you. I thought you were – well, that doesn't matter now. The point is, I've promised to help, and I will. You can stuff your quest for revenge in a hat, for all I care.”
She smiled at the phrase, thinking of Aunt Marilyn, who had said it to her more times than she could count.
“Stuff your excuses in a hat, Sophie Iris, and get on with it.”
Jude did not answer and Sophie turned away, still pulling at her dress and feeling the soft fabric for tears. The delicate folds had held up surprisingly well. She followed the hum of voices coming from the end of the hall. When she stepped into the bustling entrance hall, she was immediately swept away by a pair of hands, pulling her to the front door.
“They're waiting for you,” Aunt Marilyn was whispering, her voice rushed and high, “in the garden.”
“Who?” Sophie asked, shielding her eyes to the bright sunlight outside.
“What do you mean who? They're taking pictures. Over there,” she pointed to a garden near the edge of the front lawn. Sophie could see her sister huddled amidst several others, all smiling and laughing as a photographer circled them. “Go on, I've got to get everyone settled in the reception hall.”
As Aunt Marilyn left, Katie noticed Sophie standing on the landing and waved her over. She turned to speak to Jude, but he was nowhere to be seen. She approached her family, her gaze carefully kept away from her mother, who stood with her father and Brian while the bride and her maids posed for the camera.
“There you are,” Brian called. He strode to her, looking more handsome than usual in his jet black tuxedo. “I didn't see you during the ceremony.”
“Oh,” Sophie said, accepting his embrace and searching her mind for an excuse. “Yeah. I was tucked in the back. It was beautiful, Brian, congratulations.”
He beamed down at her, his eyes shining with happiness. She chanced a look toward her father, but he was staring at the ground while Carol spoke quietly to him, her back to Sophie. After a moment, and several deep breaths, she touched Brian's arm gently to excuse herself and approached her parents.
As she neared him, Tim looked up, his eyes meeting hers. The normally bright green was dull, faded, and Sophie could see the sadness in them. He did not smile as she stopped directly behind her mother, but he did not glance away either. All of her anger was forgotten at the sight of his face and she gave him a small smile, fighting the tears that prickled behind her eyes.
Carol had grown still, her muscles tensing as if she sensed Sophie's proximity.
“Hi,” Sophie said quietly, hoping to keep their meeting quiet and as friendly as possible.
Neither answered, though Tim forced a small smile in her direction.
“What did you think of the wedding?” The question seemed trivial given the circumstances of their last meeting, but Sophie was clinging to a vain hope. She wanted to leave on decent terms, if not for her own sake, then for that of her father.
Carol turned slowly, her eyes grazing the surrounding landscape before landing on her daughter. Her face was a mask of calm, the usual arrogance plastered in the line of her mouth and arch of her brows. Sophie forced her breath to be even, though the old anxiety began to creep through her like a snake.
“It was perfect,” Carol answered, her voice low and menacing. “There was no other option than perfection, for my daughter.”
The words, so typical of her mother and yet so powerful, would normally have made Sophie recoil, but now they only made her smil
e, as though the power her mother had over her was gone, all ties broken by the harsh words she had spoken.
“She deserves that,” Sophie nodded, turning her eyes to her father. He was watching her, his eyes harboring confusion in their depths. “Dad-” she began, but the photographer approached them, waving his camera with a smile and requesting they join the bride.
The pictures were long and tiresome, but Sophie was proud of herself for carrying them off with a grace she had not known before. She was optimistic that Katie would look back on them with happiness, unaware of the drama or her sister's trouble. Her father did not speak, but smiled when he was asked to smile, perhaps only a less buoyant version of his normal self.
When she was dismissed from the garden, Sophie returned to the castle, but changed her mind before entering the doors, retreating, instead, down the steps and around the corner. When she was out of sight of the garden and its occupants, she stepped into the trees, careful to avoid twisting her ankle on jutting roots and weeds.
“Lukas?” she called quietly, the embarrassment she had once felt at speaking his name to the vacant forest had long since vanished. The familiar scent of sun-warmed leaves and musky damp undergrowth surrounded her, while an unseen animal rustled through the bush beside her.
She waited.
He did not answer her call, though she waited, unwilling to accept his absence. She tried calling his name once more, but knew he would not come. Emerging from the trees, she returned to the castle, feeling lonely and tired, skirting Jude's questions as he caught up with her on the main stairway. She wanted to look for Lukas, to find strength in his presence. Her last memory of him was not promising. Pictures of his still body and the blood covering the forest floor made her heart ache. Before she had time to consider all the possibilities, Wilton approached her with a hesitant smile, looking at her with a mixture of pity and concern.
“Hello, my dear,” he said to her, nodding a silent greeting to Jude. “Are you well today?”
Sophie nodded, taking his hand when he offered it.
“Yes, thank you,” she answered, “much better.”
“I'm so sorry,” he lowered his voice, shooting a swift glance behind them at Jude. He was preoccupied with a small painting, seemingly unaware of their hushed conversation, though Sophie knew better. “I did not mean to overhear last night. What a terrible shock that must have been for you. Is there anything I can do?”
“Really, Wilton,” she answered, patting his hand in gratitude, “I'm okay. It was unexpected, and I was very hurt at the time, but it's not the end of the world.”
His eyes were narrowed when he glanced at her.
“I suppose you were not very close with them,” he said, not as a question but an observation.
“Not these past years,” she shook her head. “But that doesn't matter. I will always consider them my family, no matter what they say.”
“Such strength,” Wilton muttered, shaking his head. “Still, very unfortunate.”
She did not answer, wishing to keep her mind away from the negative thoughts pounding against her trembling wall of positivity. A fear plagued her that once she opened her mind to the reality of her present situation, every ounce of strength and courage would fail her and she would crumble under the weight of it all.
Jude came up behind them then and introduced himself, taking Wilton's attention from Sophie. He motioned subtly toward a vacant room to their left. Hesitant to follow his direction, she glanced into the room before stepping forward, afraid it might be another trap. Instead, she saw her father slouched over on a low sofa, his face buried in his hands and his shoulders heaving.
“Dad?” she asked quietly, forgetting all hesitation and moving to sit beside him.
He jolted at the sound of her voice, hastily wiping his eyes with his fists and clearing his throat.
“S-Sophie,” he greeted her, his voice cracking. “I didn't see you there.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. Her first instinct was to put a hand on his shoulder in comfort, but she resisted, still unsure of where there relationship stood after the previous night.
“I'm fine, kiddo,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face, though his eyes filled with tears. “You? Are you-”
“Dad, I'm alright,” she said, unwilling to let him finish the question. “Please, don't worry about me anymore. It was hard, last night, but I'm not angry with you.”
“Why not?” he asked, tears cascading down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. His lips quivered as he tried to hold back the emotion. “You should be. After all, I was supposed to be the one to protect you, the one to keep you safe. Instead, I took the easy way out. I should have been there for you when you needed me. The day you moved away was one of the hardest days of my life. I shouldn't have let you go without telling you,” he paused, “everything.”
“It doesn't matter anymore,” she said, fighting her own tears. “Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Gus took care of me. Dad, I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Gus,” Tim whispered. “He was not your father. But he did a better damn job than I ever could. I'll never forgive myself, Sophie. I know your mother, she can be cruel. I should have told you when I had the chance. I never wanted it to be like this.”
“Neither did I.”
He looked up at her then, tear-tracks lining his weary face.
“You're still my daughter,” he said, a silent plead filling his eyes. “That hasn't changed.”
A knot formed in Sophie's chest and she swallowed hard.
“I know, Dad,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even. “It's okay.”
Last night she would have yelled at him. She would have demanded that he explain himself. She would have cursed and screamed and blamed him for all the torment in her life but at that moment all she wanted to do was forgive him. The dejection in his slumped shoulders and sadness in his eyes tore at her heart. She never wanted to rid someone of their sorrow more than she did at that moment, except maybe when Uncle Gus had spoken to her during his last days in the hospital.
Lukas had been right to keep her away.
“Dad,” Sophie said, rising to her feet and pulling him up with her, “there's something I need to do right now, but before I go, I want you to know, really, that I'm okay.”
He looked down at her, grief still shrouding his eyes. When he did not answer, she wrapped her arms around his waist, like she would have done as a child, and the familiar scent of his cologne washed over her.
“I promise,” she said, “I love you.”
He squeezed her gently, kissing the top of her head and heaving a deep sigh.
“Love you too, kiddo.”
With that, she turned away, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes and fighting back the urge to break down and weep. Jude was waiting for her outside the door, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. She strode past him, nodding shortly.
“Wait here,” she said.
“For what?” he followed her, ignoring her order and making her roll her eyes to the ceiling.
“I need to speak to someone, and I want you to wait here.”
“I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight,” Jude answered, making Sophie stop short and spin around to face him.
“Just leave me alone for a minute, alright?” she hissed, pleased when he stepped back. “Have a little faith. I'm not going to run out on you. I'm not a coward,” she said the words with such spite that he shook his head, letting her walk away.
When she stepped through the boundary of trees just off the courtyard a few minutes later, he was already there, waiting for her. The relief she felt at the sight of him overwhelmed her and she fell gratefully into his arms. He caught her, pressing her against him and let out a low groan.
“Have they hurt you?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she said. “I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yes,” he answered, his voice going cold. “It was a lucky swing. I knew he was part of that foul group. They come int
o the forest frequently, looking for traces, for clues, I assume. They rarely find anything. Once, they entered my home and assaulted Agatha. Selfish and cowardly, that's what they are.”
“Yes,” she answered, pushing away from him. The breeze had picked up and, in the shadow of the trees, it sent a chill down her spine. “But that's not why I'm here. I want to tell you something. I learned something about the witch from them. They think I'm related to her.”
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes leaving her face and studying the ground as he thought. Suspicion flared and her mouth fell open.
“Did you know?” she asked. “Did you know about Grieg? About me?”
“No,” he answered quickly, raising his hands at the iciness in her tone. “I was not sure but I suspected. I did know that Grieg was her son. There was too striking a resemblance for it not to be true, but he passed long before I had a chance to truly compare them.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” The thought of another person lying to her was too much to bear and she felt a hot anger pound through her veins. This time, she did not stifle it.
“It was not my place,” he said. “I only assumed because of your ability to-”
“See,” she spat, finishing his sentence. “I know. I get it. Don't you think I had a right to know?”
“You had no idea that you were adopted, then,” he answered, his eyes narrowing, but his voice remained soft. “Nor did I. What could I have said to you?”
“And last night? When you did know?”
“You were upset, rightfully so, it was not the right time.”
“So you're a liar, just like the rest of them,” she said, surprised by the vehemence in her voice, but not particularly sorry for it.
“I never lied to you,” he answered, matching her vehemence and stepping forward. “You are acting like a child. I have only tried to keep you safe. And yet, you come here and accuse me of deceit? You have nerve.”
Sophie did not answer. He stood before her, watching her with narrowed eyes, until she sighed and turned away.
Ashes of Iris Page 25
