Shadows Of Desire

“Will you please try not to look so miserable, mother.” Emilia chanced a glance at her mother and frowned. The Queen sat at the long table looking put out with all the festivities around her. This behavior was not like her mother at all and it had Emilia worried. If she couldn’t hide her fears, people would begin to suspect them and Emilia would not stand for that. If it came down to it, she would put all the blame on the Queen and feign innocence for her part in the scheme. She had no doubt that her own mother would do the same were the shoe on the other foot.

“I just think we should have waited before having your crowning feast.” The Queen told her, not bothering to look at Emilia. “At least a month to give the people the proper amount of time to mourn the death of their King.”

Emilia scoffed at that. “Mourn him? Mother, nobody mourns him. If anything we should be celebrating. We’re finally rid of the bastard.” Emilia picked up her glass and sipped from it. “That’s cause enough for me to celebrate.” She chuckled softly.

“Bite your tongue girl.” The Queen hissed. “It’s bad enough that your husband already suspects me. What if he decided to go to the council and tell them of his suspicions. If we’re found it it will be both our heads on the chopping block my dear daughter. I will not go down for this crime alone. Mark my words.”

“Get a hold of yourself, mother.” Emilia smiled at one of her guests as they bowed and congratulated her. The golden ringlet on her brow glistened like the sun in the candle light and many admirers had approached to remark on it’s beauty. Emilia thanked them and exclaimed how the King had had it made special for her and had planned to present the crown to her himself at her royal crowning ceremony as a belated wedding gift.

This was all a lie though as the crown had been fashioned for Rowan and was to be presented to him at his own wedding. Just one more thing that infuriated Emilia when she first saw the ring of gold, adorned with a sparkling red ruby in the center of a pair of outstretched raven’s wings. The King claimed to have known nothing about the crown stating that he was not the one who had commissioned it. Caroline was almost certain that the King was lying. Who else would have commissioned it if not the King?

Emilia touched the crown and smiled to herself. She would never had allowed Rowan of all people to possess the crown. Even if she had to rip it off his corpses head. The crown was always meant to be hers and Emilia always got what she wanted. Just as the Queen always got what she wanted. She was her mother’s daughter after all and her mother had taught her well.

As the last guest left the table and went off to mingle with another group of nobles, gossiping amongst themselves, Emilia turned back to her mother, her expression cold. “I know what’s at stake. You need not remind me.”

“Just remember, daughter, we must stay united in this. If Lord Killian begins to voice his suspicions openly, we may have to take more drastic measures.” The Queen wrung her hands nervously as she glanced around, making sure that no one was listening.

Emilia narrowed her eyes. “And what do you propose? Silence him as well?”

The Queen sighed, shaking her head. “No, of course not. But we must be prepared to counter any claims he might make.”

Emilia rubbed at her temples, growing more and more frustrated. “Mother, I’m in control of this situation. You taught me well how to manage appearances, and I will not allow fear to corrupt everything that we have worked so hard to achieve.”

“Even now I feel the eyes of judgment upon me. I do not like this, Emilia. It’s not like the others. I fear that soon someone will catch wind of the truth and our lies will be revealed.”

“Stop your cowardice, mother. You are Queen! Or does the crown rest too heavy on your head?” Emilia hissed, glaring at Caroline with fury in her eyes. “You are being delusional. No one suspects a thing. Soon a servant matching the description you gave will be caught and beheaded. The council will have their justice and you will have gotten away with murder. If, you can keep your wits about you until then.”

“I do not fear the judgment of the living.” Caroline whispered. Her lips trembled as she spoke and she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from a cold that only she could feel. “It is the shadows that haunt these halls that I fear. I hear them screaming throughout the night as they scratch and crawl out from within the darkness, inching closer and closer to me each night.”

Emilia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Now you sound just like Killian. The both of you are mad, I swear it.” She pushed a goblet of wine towards the Queen and scowled at her. “Drink, mother. Let the wine ease your nerves or retire to you chambers where no one can hear your incessant ramblings.”

“You would not be so quick to dismiss me if you had seen the horrors that I have seen.”

“If I had claimed to see what you have seen, mother, you would have had me committed by now.” Emilia grinned wickedly. “Perhaps that is what I should do with you and my darling husband.” She turned her attention to the doorway where Killian had been standing for the last half hour, refusing to enter the banquet hall. “At least then I would have to hear no more talk of ghosts and shadows.”

“I think I shall retire for the evening.” Queen Caroline pushed back her chair and rose as a servant quickly ran to her side and helped her move away from the table, her long, black, skirts trailing behind her like a mourning shroud. Her face was covered by the black veil that she had worn since the King’s funeral yet refused to take off. Even with her veil Emilia could see the haunted look in her eyes, her pale flesh, and the tired and worn expression on her face.

“Go then.” Emilia rose and took her mother’s hand and kissed it. “You need your rest, mother. Truly, you have seen better days. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.” The Queen walked past Emilia, almost as if in a daze. Her ladies followed behind, one holding her hand as she led the Queen away. Those they passed bowed as the Queen walked by them, paying them no mind. She didn’t even seem to see Killian standing in the doorway as she moved past him without so much as a nod in his direction. He too bowed as she glided past him.

“Your majesty.” He greeted as she ghosted past. He looked no better in appearance as his hair and clothing were disheveled, his expression pinched and his eyes dull. He leaned against the door frame, barely looking up and his eyes often darted from the table where his wife sat to the ground beneath him. He clasped his hands in front of himself, holding them tightly as he willed them not to shake. His shoulders tensed as he caught sight of his bride walking towards him.

“People are staring.” Emilia whispered, her lips close enough to his ear that he could feel her cold breath on his skin. “Why don’t you come in and sit down.” It was a command more than a question and one that he was unwilling to abide.

“T-there are no empty seats, my dear.” He whispered in a trembling voice.

Emilia turned her head to look back at the table then frowned. “What are you talking about, there is an empty chair beside me.”

Killian looked past her to the chair next to her own. He swallowed hard then closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he muttered something under his breath. When he opened his eyes again he groaned and turned his head away.

“What are you looking at?” Emilia demanded, her patience with him growing thin.

“Do you not see it?” He gasped, nodding to the empty chair.

Emilia looked again. “I see nothing but an empty chair. Now, come and sit before you cause a scene.” She took him by the arm and attempted to pull him towards the table but he jerked his arm out of her grasp and glared at her.

“How can you say that you do not see what is sitting right before you?” He yelled in a panic, backing away from the door. “There, in his dark robes of death he stares at me, mocking me from beyond the grave! Since the night we enclosed him in that bloody crypt he has been following me, tormenting me, and now you say you do not see him? What am I to make of this?”

“Calm yourself.” Emilia sneered at him. “First mother and now you. Am I the only one here that has not lost their mind?”

Killian stared at her in disbelief, then suddenly burst out laughing like a mad man. “Your time will come my dearest wife. For you it is slower but your time will come. Then, you’ll be just as mad as the rest of us.”

He turned away from her and hurried down the corridor, trying to get far from whatever phantom he claimed to have seen. Emilia followed after him, yelling at him to stop and face her. Finally, he did turn, narrowing his eyes as he glared at her. “What now? You wish to torment me too?”

“Coward.” She hissed, clenching her jaw. “What kind of man runs from shadows?”

“The kind that wishes to keep his head.” He told her, his voice cracked with emotion as tears welled up in his eyes. “You say there is nothing there and yet I see it nightly!”

“You see nothing.” Emilia took hold of his shoulders and shook him gently. “Killian, look at me. There is nothing there. There are no ghosts. No specters haunt you. What haunts you is your own grief and it’s time you let it go. Let go of the pain and give yourself peace.”

“Peace?” He laughed at her bitterly. “The only peace I’ll get will come when I am dead!”

Emilia stared at him, dumbfounded. It was clear to her that nothing she said would ease his troubled mind. This was made abundantly clear to her when he stepped around her, eyes wide with rage, and glared at the empty doorway where he had once stood.

If his heart were capable of it, it would have been pounding wildly in his chest. There, in the doorway to the dimly lit room stood the shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness. It’s features obscured by an eerie mist that seemed to emanate from it’s very core.

“What? What do you want?” Killian shouted, his voice cracked slightly and trembled as he spoke. “Why are you doing this to me?”

The figure remained silent, its presence sending shivers down Killian’s spine. He could feel the weight of its gaze upon him, even though he couldn’t discern any eyes beneath the misty shroud.

“Speak, damn you!” Killian’s voice grew louder, a mix of frustration and desperation in his tone. “I demand to know why you torment me so.”

Slowly, the figure turned, its cloak swirling as if caught in a breeze that wasn’t there. It began to glide away from the doorway, heading back into the banquet hall beyond. Without thinking, Killian’s legs moved on their own accord, carrying him towards the dark specter.

As he stepped into the banquet hall, the grandeur of the space seemed to be swallowed by the overwhelming darkness of the figure. The flickering candlelight on the tables cast dancing shadows, making it difficult to distinguish reality from illusion.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Killian’s voice echoed through the hall, his words bouncing off the walls. “Why can no one else see you?”

The figure continued to glide forward, its movement eerily silent. Killian’s anger fueled his steps, and he followed the apparition with determination.

“You stare at me, accusing, blaming me for your death but I did not kill you!” His voice came out in pleading sobs as he was overcome with grief and shame. “Why won’t you leave me be?”

The figure remained motionless, its silence a stark contrast to Killian’s impassioned outbursts. Frustration and desperation welled up within him, and he took a step closer to the figure. Still it stood, as though watching him, it’s eyeless face remained fixed, unwavering.

All around him, faces stare in astonishment, not sure what to make of him or his desperate cries. A few turn away from him while others look on in disgust but no one offers a soothing word or comforting touch. People he has known all his life stare at him as though he were a stranger to them now, not one daring to speak or move to help.

Killian dropped to his knees, his head in his hands as he sobbed uncontrollably. “Does no one see this thing, this devil, standing over me? Are you all blind!” He shrieked.

A moment later, Emilia was at his side, pulling at him as she urged him to stand up again. She glanced around at the sea of faces staring at them in silent horror. She feigned a smile and chanced a slight chuckle, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I fear that my husband has drank far to much this evening.” She told her guests. “He still grieves the loss of our Prince and King and I fear that their deaths have taken a toll on him.”

Leaning over him she whispered, “Killian, whatever you think you see, it is an illusion. No one is there. Come, compose yourself, my love. You are frightening our guests.”

“Good.” Killian rasped. “They should be scared. It is a wicked curse that haunts this Palace and no one here is immune.”

Again he looked up to the figure standing silently watching him as he shook and whimpered on the floor, uncontrolled tears streaming down his face as he could no longer fight them back. “Why won’t you answer me?” He plead with the specter. “Tell me what you want or leave me in peace. Go back to your grave and leave the living to their grief!”

“Greagor.” Emilia motioned for him and two other guards to come to her aide. “Please, take Lord Killian to his chambers. He’s tired and he needs to rest.”

“As you wish, Princess.” Greagor bowed then he and the guards pulled Killian to his feet, guiding him out of the hall as he muttered, demanding to know why no one but him sees the ghost standing there. Emilia waited as Killian’s mad ramblings, echoing down the corridor, began to fade, leaving the room once again in silence.

“I apologize for that.” Emilia said, addressing her guests. “He has been unwell but I assure you, all he needs is rest and he’ll be right as rain again.” Her smile faltered as she looked around the room. No one dared make eye contact with her and all activity had stopped. Hushed whispers rose above the quiet unease of the room as the people begin to leave, few of them bidding her goodnight, or even acknowledging her at all.

Hot tears stung her eyes as Emilia turned, hurriedly exiting the room. Humiliated by Killian’s actions, Emilia stormed down the outer hall to the stairs, her fists clenched at her sides and her eyes wide with rage. When she was sure that she was alone, she stopped, turning to the wall, and slammed her fist against the stone, crying out in pain as she looked down to her bloodied knuckles. “Damn him.” She cried out as she pressed her face against the cold stone and sobbed. “Damn them all for doing this to me!”