Fated To Die: YA dark retelling (The Retelling Series Book 1)

by TARA GALLINA

  “Oh, Father.” I drop down beside him and touch his knees. What have I done to him? “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”

  Puffy blue eyes streaked with red veins turn to me. “Preya?”

  “I’m so sorry, Father,” I cry. “I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I want you to know how sorry I am. I never meant to lie to you. I couldn’t go through with it. Espen was awful, and I couldn’t do it. I should have told you. I thought I would be safe. I never thought I’d be chosen.” I rest my head on my hands, and sniffle, tears flowing from my eyes.

  He doesn’t touch me or move at all. “Is it really you?”

  “Yes.” I lift my head and squeeze his hand on his lap. “It’s really me, but I don’t have long.” I glance at the clock again. Less than an hour. Oh, no. I still need to see the girls.

  He cups my cheek and wipes away tears with his thumb. “I thought I lost you forever.”

  Not yet, I want to say. Instead, I sniffle and cry a little more. “I’m still here, and if I can find a way to earn my freedom, I will.” If I haven’t lost the chance already. “Just know I love you and I’m fine.”

  His eyes seem to focus on me now, as if he’s just seeing me clearly. “You’re hurt.” He lifts his palm to the scratch on my cheek.

  I take his hand in mine and kiss the top. “I’m fine. I promise. But I can’t stay. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  The moment I release his hands, he clutches mine and pulls me close. “You can’t leave. I need you. The twins need you. We can’t lose you, too.”

  Guilt, shame, and an achingly deep sorrow burrow in my heart. “I know. If I can make this right, I will. Trust that I will.” I nod and swallow the lump of doubt in my throat. Am I spouting more lies? Aren’t I already doomed? No. I can’t think like that. “I have to go, Father.” Slowly, I stand. “Be strong for me and for the girls. They need you, too.”

  He squeezes my hands, unwilling to let them go.

  I kiss his forehead. “I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Pulling away from him takes all my strength. Once I’m free, I force myself from the room, fearing if he begs me to stay a little longer, I’ll give in. I’m on borrowed time already.

  Ignoring the pain in my heart, I race through the house in search of my sisters. Their room is empty. Seeing the rose-patterned wallpaper and twin beds, their ribbon and bows, and their dolls tucked in their cradle—the cradle Mother and I had been rocking them in the night she died—almost sends me to the floor.

  What if I never see this again?

  I check every room downstairs, mindful of the kitchen and laundry room in case the maid is working.

  No one is here. With my time almost up, I check the back terrace. The twin’s little voices catch my attention. I follow them to the garden on the side of the house.

  Ivy covers every inch of the stone wall enclosing Mother’s favorite retreat. The iron gate squeaks when I open it, but the twins don’t notice. They stand by the fountain, arguing. Water speckles their apricot dresses like they’ve been splashing each other. Their golden hair hangs in messy curls down their backs and the sashes around their waists are tied in knots instead of bows. Father’s right. They need me, or else they risk sharing my same fate one day.

  “Girls?” I step forward, warmth and love colliding with the hurt and guilt flooding my veins.

  They freeze, and their faces turn as white as the stone on the fountain. A moment later, they’re rushing toward me, embracing me.

  “You’re free.” Calyssa hugs me tight.

  “I knew you’d come back,” Carys says, her face buried in my side. “I knew it.”

  I bend lower, enveloping them in my arms, wishing I could tell them everything is better and that I’m back for good. They smell of plumeria and honeysuckle, the best scents in the world. I drop a kiss on the top of their heads and force myself to straighten, or else I may never let them go.

  The next words out of my mouth might be the hardest I ever say. “I’m not free, and I don’t have long, but I had to see you. I’m so sorry for what has happened. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye before the ceremony, and for so many other things. If I could make it all better, I would—I will. For now, I need you to be strong for me. Help Father and help each other. Remember your manners and how to tie proper bows.” I tease and tug at the sashes around their waists, while trying not to cry. “Be good and say your prayers at night before you go to bed. I’ll be doing the same and thinking of you.” I kiss their cheeks and fight the urge to hold them forever. “I love you.”

  “You’re leaving again?” Heartbreak shows in Carys’s green eyes.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Then stay,” she pleads, carving a hole in my chest.

  “I can’t.” My chin trembles. I’m barely keeping it together.

  “Why?” She frowns and Calyssa takes her hand.

  Always the strong one, Calyssa lifts her chin, emotions darkening her teal eyes. “Why do you keep leaving? Where do you go? Father won’t tell us. No one will.” She stomps but her breath hitches, giving away her hurt.

  My sweet girl, defiant in ways that make me proud as well as fearful of her future. More than ever I want to break the curse, so she never has to know why I left, and why I’m leaving again. If I make it back to the cottage without being discovered, I will do whatever I must to free the village from this horror, so my sisters can live whatever life they choose.

  “It’s better you don’t learn about where I go,” I say in the gentlest tone. “You have to trust me to know what’s best and know I’m doing all I can to make it home to you.”

  Not all true, but not an entire lie. Regardless, I need to get back to the cottage.

  “I’m sorry, girls. I must go. Remember how much I love you and how much I’ll be thinking of you. Take care of Father for me, and Daisy. She needs you, too.” I squat to their level. “Can you do that? Please?”

  Calyssa must sense my urgency because she doesn’t push back. She nods and Carys does the same. “We’ll be good,” Carys says.

  I can’t stop a tear from falling down my cheek. Quickly, I wipe it away. “You are good, so good.” One last time, I wrap my arms around their little bodies and breathe in their sweet scents. “My girls. My beautiful strong girls. I love you with all my heart.”

  Straightening, I fight my sniffles and manage a warm smile. They don’t know this could be the last time they see me. They don’t know what might await them if I lose the chance to break the curse.

  My legs feel weighted as I back away, my chest heavy with grief. Every part of me wants to stay and play in the gardens, tuck them into bed, and wake up with them tomorrow as if nothing has changed.

  I blow them a kiss and run for the woods, the cottage, and the consequences that might await.

  “Hear me, Blessed Ones,” I pray. “Forgive me for my defiance and save me from having ruined my chance to break the curse. If you do, I vow to find a way to free the village forever, no matter what happens to me.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Getting back to the woods takes longer than I expected. I’m not as energetic as before, drained from the run home and the emotional toll from seeing my family.

  The river leads me back to the cottage. The thatched roof, golden against the trees, boosts my adrenaline. Almost there. My nerves don’t calm until I’m at the door. Thank the Blessed Ones. The cottage remains as charming as it was when I left. I must be in the clear.

  Out of breath and clammy with sweat, I grab the door handle. My hand shakes as I pull it open, nervous about who I might find inside. To my relief and surprise, the clean, cozy interior is empty. No Daceian.

  I take a few steps inside and fall to my knees. “Thank you,” I say to the cottage. “I will not forget this or my part of the bargain. I promise.”

  Behind me, the floorboards creak.

  My muscles harden to stone.

  “Do not turn around,” Daceian orders.

  I wait
for the cottage to darken and return to its dingy state. It doesn’t. Does that mean Daceian has no power over it? He often refers to himself as a prisoner to the curse. I didn’t understand what he meant, or perhaps I didn’t want to believe him.

  “You left.” Bitterness deepens his tone. “You tricked the cottage into making a deal with you, and you left without my knowledge—without my approval—after all I’ve done to help you.”

  His anger I deserve, expected, but the hurt I sense behind it takes me back. I hadn’t considered my leaving would hurt him. “I’m sorry, Daceian. I truly am. I tried to summon you, but you weren’t available. I would have consulted you beforehand.” Maybe. “I didn’t even know if the cottage would or could agree. Please don’t be angry with me?” I gasp at a thought. “Does your mother know?”

  He takes a moment to respond. “No.”

  I sigh in relief.

  Silence falls over the room.

  “Daceian? Please talk to me. I really am sorry for hurting you.”

  No response.

  Did he leave, and I missed it? “Daceian?” I turn my head toward the door.

  “Don’t,” he whispers, sounding closer behind me.

  “I thought you left. You’re being so quiet.”

  “I thought you didn’t grovel.” His tone softens.

  “When I’m in the wrong I do.”

  “You admit you were wrong to leave then?”

  “How is it wrong if the cottage allowed it? You said I could trust it. You said it would protect me.”

  He lets out a heated sigh and shuffles away. “You still deceived me.”

  I slump and lower my head. “I know, and I’m sorry for that. I never meant to deceive or hurt you. Please don’t be angry.”

  “I prepared myself for a fight with you, certain your cajoling the cottage and deceiving me would be justified in your eyes. I never imagined you’d be … amenable.”

  “Are you no longer cross?” Can it be this easy?

  His laugh is low and wry. “Don’t mistake my surprise for forgiveness. You betrayed my trust, and I demand to know why.”

  “You know why. I did it to see my family. I had to let them know I’m safe and that I love them, and I needed to tell my father I’m sorry for deceiving him. You’re not the only person I’ve betrayed. There was a boy in the village. We were supposed to … my father arranged for us to … for him to save me.”

  “You left to see a boy?” he barks. “Who? A suitor? You’re not married or else you wouldn’t be here.”

  “No. I told you. I left to see my family.”

  “Then who is this boy? Were you engaged to be married to him? Did you love him?”

  “Daceian, stop,” I plead. “There is no boy. I was referring to something else. I shouldn’t have mentioned him. He is nothing to me. He never was.”

  “Then why are we talking about him?”

  “You keep bringing him up.”

  He groans, and a puff of clove-scented air hits me as he clomps away. “I don’t know what to do with these feelings. It’s like a war is going on inside me. You defy me, mock me, and instead of punishing you, I feel compelled to keep you safe.”

  “Punish me?” I tense. “You have control over that?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “Am I going to be punished for leaving?” Dread twists in my stomach.

  Seconds tick by.

  “You should be.” He lets out a frustrated breath and shuffles around the room. “Your arrangement with the cottage saved you from that. It favors you for some reason. I don’t understand why it does to such an extreme, but then I have you to answer that. What did you do?”

  I swallow. “Why? Are you going to punish me after you know?”

  “You won’t be punished. The deed is done. Now tell me how you got the cottage to release you. It’s never helped anyone in that way before.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  I turn my head to the side, not enough to see him, and touch the arm of the chair. “The cottage told me.”

  “Amus told you?” he asks, incredulous.

  I snap my head forward and cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t be mad at him. He didn’t volunteer anything. I asked the questions, he answered.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  I want to say believe it. It happened. Instead, I say, “Are you going to be this grumpy all the time now?”

  He moves to stand behind me again, close enough for me to feel the heat from his body. “Tell me what you did?” It’s a whisper, a warning.

  “I made a trade. I said I’d clean and care for the cottage in return for a way to communicate with my family. It seemed fair and worth a try.” I rub an itch on my arm and hiss. Not an itch. It’s a cut from the bushes and now it stings. How had I forgotten? “Can I get something to clean this?” I lift my arm to show Daceian. “I have several.” Suddenly, they all burn.

  He gasps and touches my wrist. “You’re hurt. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I forgot.” I lower my gaze and twist enough to inhale his delicious scent.

  “Are your eyes closed? I need to inspect you.”

  I close them at once. “Yes.”

  He steps around me and brushes my hair behind my shoulders.

  It feels intimate the way his fingers graze the skin along my neck. My breath catches, and I shiver.

  A soft laugh leaves him. “That’s a nice reaction. What’s not nice are the wounds on your collarbone and face. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were hurt.”

  His apology draws a small smile to my lips. “It’s all right. It’s my fault.” I bow my head again and for some reason crack open my eyes.

  Black pants and black shiny boots are clear as day, but what steals my gaze is his right arm, dangling by his side. Visible from his fingers to where his elbow meets his white rolled-up sleeve, his skin is the darkest color I’ve ever seen. Darker than the men in the village who work all day in the sun. The smooth, unblemished texture of his skin gives the impression that he spends his time indoors.

  I don’t know what he does when he’s not with me, but even if he is outside, the woods are too shaded for him to get the sun needed to deepen the tone this much. Other than that, his body seems no different from the boys in the village.

  “Come. I need to tend to your wounds.” He takes my hand and guides me across the room. Wood scrapes against the floors. “Sit in the chair.”

  With my eyes sealed shut, I do as I’m told.

  “I’m going to touch the cuts. I won’t hurt you, though. Try to relax.” His voice comes from in front of me and at eye level, like he’s kneeling.

  The impulse to open my eyes and see his face has me wishing I were blindfolded.

  “Hold still.” He moves my hands to my lap and sweeps a feather-soft finger across the cut on my arm. The area tingles and grows cold but not painful. The sensation fades and Daceian removes his finger from my skin. “Feel the wound,” he instructs.

  Hesitant, I touch my arm. The skin is smooth. Thinking I missed the spot, I feel around for the cut. Nothing. “I can’t find it.”

  “It’s gone. Healed.”

  “You can heal people?” I ask in awe.

  “Not people, just you. It’s part of my duty in caring for the chosen maiden. Now keep still and keep your eyes closed while I do the rest.”

  He heals the cut on my neck, my collarbone, and my cheek, his cool touch as gentle as a breath. I sink deeper into the chair, relaxed in a way I haven’t been for longer than I can remember.

  “All better.” His voice is a close whisper.

  “Thank you.” My head lolls forward. I could fall asleep so easily.

  “Preya?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re falling.”

  For him? “I know.”

  “On me.” He touches my shoulders and nudges me upright in the chair. “You were about to snuggle your head on my chest.” A hint of humor sounds in his tone.

>   I snap to attention, growing more alert. Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Sorry.”

  “No harm done.” He moves away stirring the air with his spicy scent. “Have you been reading the book?”

  “Book?” I muse.

  “The one in the cottage. Right here on the table where it always is.” Two thumps sound like he’s tapping the hard cover.

  Ah, yes. That one. Perhaps, I’m not as alert as I thought. “Yes. I’ve been reading.”

  “Did you learn anything helpful?”

  “Not yet. I’ve read a lot about the queen and her sister.”

  “Then you’re not looking in the right places,” he huffs.

  “How can I look in the right places when I don’t know where to look? The book is huge,” I point out. “Why are you so angry all of a sudden?”

  “You have to ask?” He shuffles over to me, his presence looming like a dark shadow. A warm hand slides over my tight fist. “It seems I’m not the only one who’s angry.”

  I draw my hand back. “I’m reacting to you. What happened to the softer version of you? The healer. I like him better.”

  “I have the right to be upset. You left, remember?”

  “I came back.”

  “You were by the river, weren’t you? Did you see me and my mother?”

  Is that what’s really bothering him? “I used the river to get to town or else I wouldn’t have found my way out of the woods. I didn’t mean to cross paths with you or her, and I didn’t see anything. The fog was too thick. All I heard were your voices. I swear.”

  He lets out a heated breath. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

  “It’s the truth.” I stand and turn away since stalking across the room isn’t an option. I can’t see where I’m going.

  “I’ve granted you things I’ve never granted any other maiden, and yet you still defy me by breaking the rules or finding ways around them. Is this how you are with other people—with your family? You said you deceived them. Did you do this often?”

  “No. Never. I love my family and would do anything for them.” Anything but mate with Espen. Maybe I don’t love them as much as I thought—as I should. My shoulders sag, that deep ache returning in my chest. “I hurt them in the worst way and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”