Unlocking Adeline (Skeleton Key)

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Unlocking Adeline (Skeleton Key) Page 15

by J. D. Hollyfield


  “Are ye choosing to stay then? Do ye choose Locke?”

  I smile, the warmth in my heart knowing that I am. “I do,” I reply, not that it was ever a true question of who I would, in the end, chose.

  He matches my happiness. “Is that yer final answer?”

  I hit him in the chest beginning to giggle. “It is. I’m sure. Now answer me, before I change my mind and choose you just out of plain torture.”

  “Lady Maria,” he states calmly.

  I stumble over my own two feet. “Wait, as in Lady Maria, from the school in Ferrow, Lady Maria?”

  “That shall be her.” He smiles.

  “But she was so kind to me. Sweet. She didn’t give any indication that she wanted to rip my head off, knowing I might take you from her.”

  “Ahh yes, the selfless Maria. That’s why I love her so. Her heart is as big as the sky. She would give her own life and soul if it meant someone in this world found happiness.” My heart swells, hearing the joy in his voice as he speaks of her.

  “I hope I don’t offend ye when I confess that I am madly in love. We have been since we were small children. She makes me feel whole. And when the time comes when ye, my princess, choose, I shall whisk her off her feet and marry her.”

  I’m staring at Christof, the smile so big on my face as my eyes gloss over, allowing a tear to slowly slide down my face. “Oh heavens, I have upset ye, I am so sorry—”

  I jump into his arms, giving him the biggest hug my arms will allow. As I begin to laugh, Christof mistake’s my laughing for crying. “Oh goodness, please do not cry, It was not meant to upset ye, we can remedy this—”

  I pull away and we catch eyes. “Christof MacCowen I am so happy for you.”

  “Ye are?”

  “Yes. If anyone in this land deserves to be in love and happy, it’s you. You have been nothing but kind and welcoming to me, and I thank you for that. I release you and give you my blessing to go and marry that girl.” I watch as my words set in. He goes down to one knee, bringing my hand into his, offering the kindest kiss to the top of my hand, he looks up. “Ye are an amazing lass, Princess Adeline of Wren. And as much as I will show my gratitude till times end, I will also be thankful that my grump of a brother has found someone like ye. He deserves happiness more than us all, and I cannot imagine anyone else putting him in his place as best as ye do.”

  My lips begin to quiver at his kind words. “Oh get up, you big oaf, before I make a mess of myself.” He stands, and I embrace him in the biggest hug. “Thank you,” I whisper into his shoulder.

  “I think a thanks goes both ways. Now,” releasing me, “why don’t ye go find that irritable brother of mine and let him now he’s stuck with ye.” At that I smile big. I lean up and offer him a kiss to his cheek. I say no more as I turn and race back down the hill. I want to confess things I never knew I felt. Somehow, Christof made me conjure them up. I’m going to tell Locke how I feel, whether he wants to hear it or not. And I am going force that stubborn man to see what is right in front of him. I make it past the water hole, not falling for that trick this time, and head toward the stables. I bet Locke will be there putting his horse away. I make it back to the center of the village, where I last saw Locke and I’m out of breath.

  The thought of Farah skims my mind. Just the memory of her touching Locke gets my blood boiling. I’ve never been a jealous person, well because I never really had anything that I felt I needed to protect, until Locke. Since the moment we’ve crossed paths, he’s been under my skin. I hope I’m making the right decision. If they say this is where I am meant to be, maybe it is. Maybe that’s why life at home never felt right. Why I always felt like I didn’t belong. Because my true calling was here, in Wren. I can’t believe I am actually agreeing with this silly life. I laugh again. Oh, screw it. I take slight look at Farah’s cottage, in hopes that she’s outside stapling a for sale sign in the ground. Just as I make eye contact the door opens.

  Inside stands Locke. He is shirtless. I almost trip over my own feet as I stop, in shock, to witness Farah standing in front of him, giving just enough room as he lifts his arms up to place his shirt over his head. It’s when I see her place her hands around his waist that I feel the pain inside. That bastard. Like a bad accident I can’t look away as he adjusts his shirt. She leans in; offering him a kiss on his cheek, him not stopping to fight her off.

  “How could he?” I whisper, not realizing the tears falling down my cheek. Before he is able to turn and see me, I take off. I run back to the castle, up the stairs taking two steps at a time. I make it to my room just in time to slam the door, fall to my knees, and break down.

  Ellie is on me instantly, “Oh heavens above, what has happened? Where have ye been?” I shoo her wandering hands away from me. I begin to cry, my weeping head cradled by my shaking hands. Is it from rage? Sorrow? I can’t decipher. I have never felt this way, and this reaction is wrenching.

  “Why do ye cry so hard, Miss? Did someone hurt ye?” She pats my shoulders, bringing her soothing hand up and down on my back. I don’t even know how to answer her. So I continue to cry some more.

  “I just want to go home, Ellie. Let me go home.” I cry, not even sure she can understand me.

  “Oh, hush now. I thought ye were beginning to enjoy things around here? I thought Sir Locke was changing that for ye.” Just the sound of his name triggers the anger inside me. I stand up, startling Ellie, as she falls backwards on her butt. “That ogre of an ass is doing nothing but making me hate him more and more. I hope he chokes on his own betrayal.”

  I walk toward my bed, picking up a pillow and throwing it as hard as I can. “I hate him and I hate it here. You people cannot keep me here. I want to go home.” I start to cry again, hiding my shame of how upset I am. How could he do this to me? I gave something to him. I gave him me. And he just threw that away. Discarded everything that was growing between us and tossed it away. Was I that horrible? Did I do nothing to warm his cold heart that he still needed to throw away everything that we were building to get a piece from his girlfriend!? I feel so helpless. “I need to be alone. Please leave,” I choke to Ellie. I need to get ahold of my emotions and then go back to my plan. Just then a knock sounds and we both whip our heads to the door.

  “Adeline?” It’s Locke.

  “Tell him, I’m not here—wait, no. Tell him that I ran off with Christof, and you do not expect me back until morning!” Ellie looks shocked and also hesitant.

  “I swear to all that’s holy, if you don’t repeat those words and stick to them, you will regret it.” I say as sternly as possible. She finally nods and heads toward the door. I run into the bathroom to hide myself.

  “Ah, Ellie, where is Miss Adeline?” I can hear his voice closer, so I know he has entered my room

  “Um. Sorry, she is not in. She has left for the day. She is not set back to arrive until morning, Sir.”

  “Morning? That’s nonsense. Who is she with?” he demands, the irritation growing in his voice.

  “Um, yer brother, Sir.”

  “That son of a bitch.” I hear Ellie gasp at his choice of words.

  “I want notification the moment she returns back, do ye hear me?”

  “Yes, yes, Sir. Of course.” He says nothing more. But you cannot miss the sounds of his boots slamming down the hallway as he storms off. Good. That jerk. He deserves to think I am off with his brother. Maybe he will know how it feels.

  I come out from hiding to see a very unsettled Ellie. “Don’t worry it’s fine. He’ll get over it.”

  “I’m not so sure, Miss, he looked very surprised, then murderous when I told him ye are with Sir Christof.”

  “Good. He will look even more surprised when I don’t return tomorrow either,” I say, more to myself than to Ellie and her poor now pale face.

  Ellie never notifies Locke of my return, because before she is awake, I sneak out. I hid in my room all night long, trying to figure out a master plan to get out of here. Quickly after Locke
stormed off, I made Ellie deliver a note to Christof, telling him to enjoy the afternoon and night and go spend it with Maria. I had him covered and as far as anyone knew, he and I were frolicking around the countryside. He sent Ellie back with a hug, which she gave me, and told me I was an angel. This gave me a solid twenty-four hours until I had to be accounted for, which meant I had to go back to the sorcerer.

  It was too early for that asshole ogre to be up and out, but just in case, I took the long way down the path toward Greta’s. I was just mid-way to Greta’s eccentric cottage, when I see someone else in my sight. My anger just right, I detour to the right, storming toward her. “Hey!” I yell as my grandmother turns, holding a watering jug. “I want to know why you hate me so much when you don’t even know me!” I ask, storming up her pathway and meeting her face to face. She doesn’t look at all fazed by my anger, but simply turns and walks to her front door. “Hey! I was talking to you!”

  “And ye can finish yer outburst inside. I have work to do and the day doesn’t wait for anyone.” She walks inside and stops to hold the door for me. “Well? Are ye coming?” I grunt under my breath and stomp my feet past her and enter her house. I stop and take in her quaint little home, when the ancient photos lining her entire house catch my attention. My dad. He is everywhere.

  “He was just a wee boy in that one. Always wanting to play the warrior. He was one in the school play in Ferrow, four years running.” I turn to her, “He was?”

  “A very eager little boy he was. Didn’t like minding the rules much. Always wanted to fight for something better. Freedom and rights, tis what he would say.”

  I turn from her to get a closer look at the photos that sit on the mantle of her fireplace. There are ones of my dad playing ball, and some of him dressed in fighting gear. There are ones with him and, I imagine, his father. “Where is his dad?” I ask.

  “He is long passed. He caught an illness the year before yer father left.”

  I turn to her, feeling sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  She waves me off walking into her kitchen, “It’s no bother. It was no bother for yer father, so I don’t expect it to be for ye.”

  There she goes again. “Listen! I did not know about this place. I get that you’re mad, angry at my dad. But don’t take it out on me. I am not the enemy here. And I am not sure my dad is either.” She doesn’t react to my words, so I continue, “You know growing up, it was only my dad, mom, and brother and I. I never had another relative. No one. But I wish I did. When I found I had a grandmother, I was hurt too. To think I could have grown up having someone to teach me, like other kids had their elders. But I had no one. But you? You just rejected me without even knowing me. Your son raised a great daughter. And for the record, I have a brother, too.” That does it. I watch her turn, her eyes filled with hurt.

  “What, do ye think ye are just going to tell me all these things, and they will erase the damage yer father has done?”

  “No, but I expect you to treat me fairly. As your only granddaughter.” Of course, she doesn’t say a word in return. And that just makes me angrier.

  “You know what? I’m done with you. I don’t care. I won’t be staying here much longer, so I don’t need your approval of me.” I turn to leave. I am over this woman who only holds hatred inside her. I make it to the door, before her words stop me.

  “Ye don’t know yer true potential yet, do ye child?” I stop in my tracks, turning to face her.

  “My what?”

  “Yer potential. Yer mark on this land. Ye haven’t been told what ye are truly made of yet, have ye?”

  I swear its ring around the riddles when people talk around here! “Listen, lady, I am sick of all you people speaking in code. I have no idea what you’re talking about or what poten—”

  “Ye bear the crescent moon on yer wrist, do ye not?” she asks, walking up to me. Without permission, she grabs at my hand, turning my wrist exposing my crescent mark.

  “It is said that the one who bears the mark in her hands will have the strength to carry the biggest challenges of Wren. She will open up realms to other worlds with her knowledge. Offering the biggest gift to the land.”

  I look down at my mark confused. “So what does that mean?”

  “It means that this land has been waiting centuries for ye. The Book of Wren, the prophets called upon ye. They wrote that ye would guide yer king. Bring health to the land. Knowledge. And it would create a world ten times stronger than the realm ye returned from.”

  I shake my head in denial. “But I don’t want to be Queen.” I cover my ears trying to block out the words she is spitting at me. “And Locke has proved he does not want to take up a queen. He’s made that very clear.” And he has. The way he was so gentle with me. Fooling me. Demanding I only be his. But he didn’t mean the same for him.

  “Well, that is not for ye to decide.”

  “Well, I can’t change what already is. Locke is not mine, just as much as I am not his. This place better have a backup plan, because you all are going to need it.”

  I don’t wait for her cynical response. I just leave. I wish I never confronted her. Never saw the photos or allowed her to fill my head with more nonsense and bullshit that just confuses me even more. I make my way back toward Greta’s and storm past a group of women gathering yarn for their daily knitting.

  “Miss Adeline, would ye like to—”

  “No thanks! Got a library book due.” I wave and I head down the hill.

  I lift my closed fist to bang on Greta’s door, but it opens before I have a chance. “Yer late. Hurry, my first batch is ready.”

  I grumble because I never told her I was even coming over, so I can’t be late. “I need to know how to get home,” I snap, stomping into her home. Of course it smells amazing. “What are you making?”

  “Pancake corndogs. I knew ye would be here soon.”

  I gape at her. “How? I never told you I was coming!”

  “Sorcerer, honey, now sit down, ye have to try this recipe. I got it off a very popular pinner. She has over three thousands re-pins.”

  I grunt and walk over to her small kitchen counter. “You know, maybe you should be living in my times, where all this stuff is an everyday thing. Plus, you know you can actually buy these frozen and already made, right?”

  She waves her hand from behind her head. “Nonsense. That takes the fun out of it. That’s what’s wrong with all ye modern agers. Ye have everything already done. Ye take away the fun of creation.”

  “Nooo. We just take out all the nonsense. It’s called timesaving.” She doesn’t even respond. I roll my eyes and walk over to her table and take a seat at the counter. She places a plate of food in front of me and my stomach instantly growls. So fine, maybe just a few bites. Then I’ll interrogate her until she is done telling me everything I need to know about getting home.

  Before I know it, I have cleaned off a second plate of her homemade breakfast. “Man, Greta, I have to say, you do know how to cook.” I wipe the syrup from my mouth.

  “Good, I’m glad ye like it. Now, let’s talk. How is it going with yer betrothed?”

  “Well, I want to kick him in his man jewels, if that counts,” I reply.

  She smiles, immediately rubbing her palms together. “What? What’s that look for?”

  “I asked ye about yer betrothed and ye spoke of Locke. Now that I know ye have made yer choice, we can move on to other topics. Now, how was the, ye know?” She shimmies her hips indicating—

  “Greta!”

  Putting her hands up, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t I ask? I’m old and frail and those prude characters on my show clearly will never get it on, so I must live through ye. Now, how was it? Was he as big in size as his—”

  “GRETA!” I scream again, putting my hands over my ears. I am not having this conversation with her. She continues to stare at me, waiting for me to spill. I stare back, very firm that I am not saying a word. Then she pushes some cake pops in front o
f me. That little—

  “Fine! God.” I grab a cake pop and put the whole thing in my mouth. It simply melts and I close my eyes, enjoying the cake filling melt in my mouth.

  “I have more where those came from. Start talking,” she pokes, pulling the plate away.

  Geez, this woman. “Fine, okay, so yes, we did it. And it was… It was… magical,” I sigh, using the most cliché word possible, but by golly it was. No matter how magical it was, he had to go and ruin it. “But it doesn’t matter because he’s an ass, and I hope this junk falls off.”

  “Ah, trouble in paradise already?”

  “No. Well, kind of. We returned home yesterday, and I really thought I had broken the ice with him. I thought we had, you know, started something. But the second we stepped foot back in Wren, that little tramp, Farah, showed up pulling him away. And the worst thing is, he went!” I slump in my chair.

  “So what? She is a hussy, what happened when he left?” she says, putting another cake pop in front of me. I pick it up and take a hefty bite. “I went to meet Christof and we had the best chat ever. He helped me realize that I truly had chosen to stay. And it was before I even realized it. I chose to stay with Locke. I went to find him. To tell him that I wanted to stay, and see if where whatever was happening between us could go.” I stop to eat the remainder of the cake pop, knowing I need to stuff my mouth and eat down my emotions, so I don’t start to cry.

  “Sounds fantastic, so why are ye here? And not knockin’ the boots?”

  “Because when I went to go find him, I saw him walking out of the hussy’s house, shirtless. And to make matters worse, she kissed him, and he didn’t stop her.” I take the next cake pop she hands me and stuff the whole thing into my mouth, while closing my eyes. I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to cry.

  Then, I start to cry.

  “He didn’t even wait a whole day before running into someone else’s bed,” I cry, grabbing a fourth cake pop. “How coowd he dooo his to me?” Greta is barely able to understand me between my stuffed mouth and sobs. She makes a wise decision and takes the remaining cake pop out of my hand and pours me a glass of milk. Because nothing is better with a pound of rolled up cake, than milk.

 

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