by A. M. Hudson
The truth is that, though my heart belongs to Mike, for all my life, a part of me will forever
hold onto David; I will forever believe I still belong to him, no matter how often I stare into a mirror
and tell myself otherwis e. “You know me too well.” I sighed and for ced myself to release the
pendant. “I’m gonna miss you, Emily.”
“Don’t cry,” she said, hugging me again, “you’ll make your mascara run again.” We laughed
and both stood back, wiping our cheeks. “Don’t worry. I’ll come see you real soon. You’ll see. And
as for David? Well, I know you love him. You probably always will, and I know it’s been hard, but
he’s gone, Ara. I haven’t seen him—just like I never saw Jason again.” She shook her head, smiling
sympathetically. “They’re not coming back.”
I nodded, pushing an internal shudder down from the mention of my attacker . The memory
of that night had been locked d eep in my su bconscious, and the key thrown away, but whenever I
heard the name Jason—even if it wasn’t in re ference to him—I trembled. My fingers found the
locket again and held it tight.
“It was supposed to be him, though, right?” She smiled, nodding toward my locket. “He was
the one you were going to marry.”
“Yeah. I mean, I wanted it to be. But not anym ore. I am happy, and I do love Mike—he’s
good for me. He’s right for me. I just miss Davi d, and—” I f aced the mirror again, dropping the
chain from my fingers and letting it fall, cool against my skin. “I just wish I’d been given the chance
to say goodbye.”
“I wish it had been different, too,” Emily said. “Then you wouldn’t be leaving me tonight.”
Her hands rested on the tops of my arms and she loo ked at me carefully thr ough the ref lection.
“You look so beautiful, Ara. I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride.”
“Oh!” We both looked up to t he whimpering gasp as Vicki walked in and burst into tears—
again: “My beautiful Ara-Rose. I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she trilled in a high-pitched
wail. Vicki hugged me, being careful of my cas cading curls. “It feels like we only got you a few
weeks ago, and now look at you—al l grown up an d leaving us.” She wi ped away her tears. “Oh.
Look at me, I’ve gone and smudged my makeup again.”
Emily and I exchanged a humoured smile as Vicki headed into my wardrobe—toward the
bathroom. The wardrobe was empty now. The rows and rows of clothes that Vi cki bought for me,
the yellow dress, my box of pictures and everything else that had made this room my own was on its
way home now. On a freight plane back to Perth, which, after tonight, when I officially became
Mrs. Michael Christopher White, I would be too—except…not on a freight plane.
Emily let out a soft breath, half smiling. “Come on. It’s nearly time. Let’s put this veil on.” I
lifted the blanket-heavy skirt and sat down on the stool near the mi rror. It felt good to sit. I’d been
standing for too long. “No looking until I get this in, okay?” Emily warned.
“Em—my back’s to the mirror, how can I see, anyway?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way, if you want to.”
“You know me too well.” I giggled. “So—where’s Alana?”
“She’s finishing her hair. And still trying to practice walking in those heels.” Emily laughed.
“I hope she doesn’t trip over.”
“No one will notice,” she muttere d with a few bobby-pins betwee n her lips, “they won’t be
able to see past you.”
With the veil in my hair, Emily took a step back and adoration flooded her eyes like a little
girl getting her fist kitten.
“Does it look nice?” I asked, touching my fingertips to the meshy fabric.
“Oh, my God!” Alana squealed as she walked in.
“Don’t cry,” Emily warned. “I’m not re-doing your makeup.”
“I’m not. I’m not. Oh, Ar a,” Alana said, wavi ng her hands near her moistening eyes.
“You’re so pretty.”
“Thanks. You look lovely, too.”
“I know.” She curtsied. “Ryan said his heart stopped beating when he saw me.”
“Aw.” Emily and I sighed. He’s so sweet.
“Now—” Alana touched my veil. “You have something old?”
“And something new.” I nodded down at my dress.
“Okay, here’s something borrowed.” Emily clasped her silver bracelet over my wrist—over
the scar David left.
“Well, that just leaves someth ing blue.” I sear ched the room, half expecting to see the
bookshelf behind my bedroom door where I used to keep a bluebird pin my mother gave me when I
was little.
“Um, Ara?” Vicki stood nervously behind Emily. “I—I have something blue.”
When Em stepped aside, Vicki reached across the pale beam of s unlight and placed
something cold and kind of heavy in my hand—cupping hers there for a second. “My mother gave
this to me on my wedding day—when I married your father.”
I hesitated to look down at it, keeping my gaze on her teary eyes for longer than needed. But
when I finally unfolded my fingers, I gasped, seeing the blue perfection there. “Vicki! This is
beautiful.”
“It’s a brooch,” she said, turning the delicate glass blossom in my open palm.
“But—” I stole my gaze away from it to look at her , “this should be passed down to Sam,
shouldn’t it?”
Vicki shook her head and closed my fingers around the flower. “It‘s been passed down in
my family from daughter to daughter: it belongs to you now.”
“Vicki, I—how can I ever thank you for all you’ve done for me?” I jumped off the stool and
hugged her tight, gripping the sapphire blossom in my hand. “You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re the daughter I always wanted.” She smiled and bit her quivering lips together.
“Now, enough cliché fussing. Where shall we pin this?”
We placed the brooch, after much deliberation, to the largest cherry blossom on the bodice:
right where the skirt met my hips, and as everyone stepped back to take a look at me, I drew a deep
breath and squared my shoulders: “So, that’s everything?”
The chatter of four girls suddenly burst into the roar of twenty screaming fans at a boy-band
concert. I calmed myself to a pictur e of composure while they gathered their bouquets, then hurried
into the corridor.
“You coming, Ara?” Alana turned back to look at me.
“Um, yeah.” A sigh forced my shoulders to relax. “I’ll just be a sec.”
She smiled knowingly, then walked away.
The silence seemed to be filled with all the thoughts I’d been afraid of, all the truths I
couldn’t own today. So, before it could destroy resolution, I wandered out quickly, looking back for
only a moment before shutting the door on the warm yellow light of the past.
When Dad closed his door at the end of the hall too, I waited, smiling with anticipation, for
him to turn around. “Dad?”
His face moved from the thoughts of the day ahead to a round-mout hed, wide-eyed smile.
“Oh, honey,” he said, raising my hand above my head to spin me around. “Look at you.”
“It’s not too overdone, do you think?” I looked down at the marshmallow skirt.
“No, you look perfect.” He kissed my cheek. “You’re so grown up, so before your time.” He
stopped then with a sli ght sigh. “I’m proud of you, Ara-Rose—and your mother—” Dad touched
my inherited veil, “I know she’d be proud of you too.”
I nodded, looking down at Dad’s hands holding mine.
“You know you’re supposed to take your engagement ring off when you get married. It goes
on over your wedding ring after the ceremony.”
“Really? Well, here, hold on to it for me.”
Dad placed my ruby ring i n his t op pocket w ith a litt le pat. “Are you ready?” he asked
softly.
Ready? I wasn’t sure if that was the right word. I inhaled a deep, shaky- yet-excited breath
and let it out in a gust. “No! Wait. I forgot my bouquet.” I spun on my heel, hitched my dress up at
the front, and felt it swish around the tops of my feet as I bolted back to my room.
The warmth of my yellow walls greeted me with the sun’s smile as I burst through the door
and grabbed the lone bouquet sitting on the hall table.
Lucky I remembered this—coming back up the stairs in this dress would’ve been difficult.
But, as I turned to walk away, a wave of nostalgia hit me. I took two slow steps back t o
where my bed used to be, and let my arms fall to my sides.
It’s so empty in here now.
The crystals that used to cast rainbows from the sun were all gone, so too were the photos on
the walls, and the innocence of childhood. They were all just a me mory now, and it felt strange to
be saying goodbye to a place that’d been such a big part of my life, for such a short time.
Despite the pain I suffered here, what I’m leaving behind today are mostly fond memories.
Then, as I turned to walk away again, a splash of a forbidden colour caught my eye—resting
in the hinge of the old mirror.
One single red rose.
Breathless, bonded to the spot, I could no longer feel my arms or l ips—my thumping heart
was all that existed.
No one would have put that there. I was ver y clear. There were to be no red roses around
today. I walked over and plucked the rose from the mi rror, dropping it as soon as my fi ngers
touched the thornless stem.
“David?”
A breathless moment passed and only the stammering of my wanting heart echoed back.
Please be here. Please.
The red rose sat by my feet. I stared at it for a moment. One red rose. The single element of
colour inside a completel y white bouquet; the scarlet representation of my love for David—of the
part of me that will always be his. I left it out. I wanted to move on—to forget about him. But we
both know I was fooling myself to think I could ever move on. I can’t move on from something like
this. And he won’t let me.
No. I shook my head and took a step away from the rose. I will not let his memory reside
here, in this life, with me. The past is his dwelling now—long forgotten and hidden in a dark corner
of my heart—like a favourite old book at the back of a shelf.
The reflection of the br ide holding a colourless bouquet was one of picturesque beauty, but
not what I saw in my dream, in what seemed a lifetime ago. This was a different image.
I was no longer the empty shell of a gir l I used to be. I had moved on wit hout David, away
from David, and slowly, I was growing out of the mask I used to hide behind. Happines s was
becoming a real par t of my li fe, and it was because of Mike that I could finally be just a gir l. Just
Ara. Leaving the rose on the floor where it fell, I smiled. Mike is all I need now. I loved David
with all of my heart once, and when Mike came back into my life, my heart simply grew bigger.
With one hand, I unclasped the silver chain that David returned to me. “I wi ll always be
yours, David,” I said into the mirror, “—and you will always have a special place in my heart, but—
” I placed the locket on the fl oor over the r ose and stood back. “But this i s me saying goodbye.
Saying…this is the way things should be. Don’t let your life be about me, now. It’s time to move on
and let things fall where they may.” My heart and my voice steadied with the last of my goodbye. “I
love you, David Knight. I’ll love you for forever—but it just has to be forever apart.”
Slowly and reluctantly, I walked t o the door and placed my fingers over the handle. When I
turned back to look around my room for the very last time—the rose and the locket were gone.
With faltering resolution and a tender heart, I blinked back the pain , and closed the door
behind me.
Dad winked at me when I took his arm, and we wal ked down the stairs to the warm spring
morning—the last morning I would ever look across the road, at the oval of the school where I once
met a boy. He’s not there anymore—no longer waiting by t he grass for me to take his hand. He’s
gone—and I am moving on.
The photographer placed us in position to do cument the momentous occasion before we
could climb into the bridal car and drive away, leaving behind all the innocence of youth and the
sadness of eternal nights.
Bright, sunny days are my path now.
I looked up at the blue sky, just as I did that first day I came to live here, only, back then, in
my heart, I wanted nothing mor e than to go ba ck home, whi le today, the idea had me stealing
glances at my dad, Sam, and even Vicki, wondering how I was going to cope with missing them.
I guess life has a funny way of granting the things we want, when we no longer really want
them. I came here alone, and I’m leaving with a heart full of family and friends who love me.
When the night descends and I farewell them for the l ast time, I know I’ll cry, becaus e
somewhere deep inside myself I’d realised, looking around at the faces of the family I’d come to
know, and the fr iends I’d come to love, that maybe I never really needed to go home, becaus e
maybe home is where your heart wants to be, and where the shelter of loving arms is never very far
away. And I guess, in a way, I truly was home all along.
The Knight will return in…
Book Three: The Heart’s Ashes
Death never leaves us. Once it’s touched our souls, it hungers for our return—waiting for us
to fall. And if it finds Ara again, she will have no way to escape.
Moving on from David was hard, forgetting the abduction and torture was almost
impossible, but nothing as devastating as the thought that, now, because of her, David might face
the horrific punishments of the Set.
No one knows where David went when he lost Ara, but she can only hope he’s the one
leaving subtle clues for her to discover, and it makes her desperate to find him—desperate enough
that she would risk her own life, hanging out with an informant who means to kill her. What truths
she is told about David’s dark past, though, will threaten to change her heart and destroy the way
Ara perceives everything. She must ask herself if it’s right to love one monster, then despise the one
that tried to destroy her.
In all her searching, the promise of immortality will finally be renewed, but sold at a price
Ara’s not sure she’s willing to pay.
Will love be enough to make her submit to this new role, or will it fail her once again and
leave her reaching back for the hands of death?
A note from the author:
Dear readers,
I have loved the journey of wri
ting this book, but even more so, loved sharing it with all of
you. I’ve been lucky enough to get to know and become close to some of you over the years, and I
love hearing about your lives and families. I invite everyone who reads this book to post a review,
comment or rating on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or iBooks. I read every comment and would love to
hear from you. I also invite you to join us on Facebook (The Dark Secrets series) so we can get to
know you too.
Fondest regards,
A. M. Hudson
Table of Contents
Book II
Book Two
Chapter One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
