Ianora
The ceiling was carved to look like a night sky, with stars that glistened and twinkled as if they were truly made of silver. The smoky colors of the night painted a soft harmony that was almost too beautiful to look at, carved with intricate filigree that was the work of a master. Ianora stared at it anyway, hoping the patterns of light would take her away. They didn't.
Nothing could distract her from the cold, hard truth: she had tried everything possible to escape this golden prison, and she was still trapped.
After the first day, where she had spent much of that entire twenty-four hours clawing at every corner of the room in search of a way out, Ianora promptly laid down in bed and did not move. She saw no point in doing anything but retreating to her thoughts, using her mind's sharpest corners to come up with a solution.
But by the time the second day had passed, no solution had come.
Nor had she been able to stop Castor's kiss from haunting her.
His lips against hers had been brutal and possessive—a far cry from the man who'd once kissed her so sweetly in this same castle. Rather than the gentle flourishes with his tongue to show how careful he would be with her, this kiss had been hard and controlling, meant to show her just how little freedom and say she truly had anymore.
And she'd liked it.
What was wrong with her, to enjoy, even just a little bit, that moment of suspension where she knew there was nothing she could do to pull away? His kiss had been bruising, demanding, and so rife withneed,unlike anything Ianora had experienced in her entire lifetime.
She might still be a virgin, as unfortunate as that was, but she had more than enough kisses to judge and compare with past experiences.
This kiss left her with shivers days later, the kind that she couldn't tell if they were good or bad. Because despite the passion in the kiss, Castor was nothing like the man he'd been all those years ago. There are still glimpses of his sense of humor in his twisted designs, in the thoughtfulness that had been turned against her. And, of course, the handsome features that had been twisted by the curse, the powerful jaw that had been one of many factors luring her to him in the first place.
But those memories only served to trick her from the truth: Castor had become a horrible, cruel man, driven to seek vengeance over a series of events he didn't fully understand. He only knew the small fraction that he had borne witness to ... and the hurt he felt in the aftermath.
Lying here now, Ianora couldn't help but feel, deep in her wretched soul, that he was right about one thing:shewas responsible for all of this, for turning Castor into the dark man who'd pursued her these many years. The man who'd planned to kill her entire family just to take her for himself.
Had she been more communicative of him back then, had she confided in him in the events that had torn her away from his side...none of this would have happened.
She should have known better, shouldn't she? Even back then, Castor had been single-minded and driven, if in a more productive capacity. He had wanted to achieve great things, to be somebody important—more than a king who had rotted upon a throne for centuries.
And in the end, that's exactly what he became ... even if it wasn't in the way either of them had anticipated.
It was all her fault. Ianora had been so wrapped up in her own world that she hadn't considered how far Castor might go. She knew that leaving would hurt him. Deep down, she knew it would drive him to drastic measures that she would have to stave off for years. And she had.
But this ... this cruel man who would have murdered all her loved ones?
Threaten to exile her, strip her immortality, and ensure she would never see her family again if she didn't marry him?
This was not the man she had fallen for all those years ago. Being with him now, despite her body and mind's mixed feelings about him, had solidified one thing for her: she could not love him.
She would not.
To show any sign of affection for him after all this time would be a betrayal to herself and to her family, who had survived Castor's wicked shadow all these years.
While Ianora had never truly forsaken him until she knew the truth of how far he'd gone, coming here had made her surer than ever that she had to keep her heart locked to him forever. No matter what happened to her as a result.
Castor had already anticipated her plan to make his life hell so that he would cancel the wedding, so it seemed like that idea was out. He wasn't going to let go of her so easily. However, they had once been close enough that, if given a chance, she might be able to come up with another way to escape him...but only if she could get out of here.
She expected that if she never bends to Castor's whims, his threat to turn her into his whore would become her reality. It was either that, or this room would be her tomb.
The hours went by in her head like a ticking bomb, five days until the wedding.
Finally, that thought rallied Ianora to search again. There had to be something she'd missed the first time around, right? Castor could not have made the room completely impenetrable.
Before, Ianora had just tried the walls, but when she stood up on the stone floor, she realized that she hadn't searched for a way out through the floor. Stone as it was, she hadn't thought it possible. But old castles like these hid many secrets.
Starting at one corner of her bedroom, Ianora went on her hands and knees and felt for anything strange on the floor. She ripped up rugs and moved dressers until everything was out of place, all the way from her bedroom to her sitting room. However, for each foot of space that she cleared, she still found no answers, and her frustration only grew.
By the time she had spent hours on her hands and knees, crawling around like a desperate animal, she was still no closer to freedom than she had been on her first day locked in here.
A flash of anger rose through her. She grabbed the nearest vase and threw it at the windows overlooking the courtyard. The window didn't so much as crack or flex, but the porcelain vase shattered, sending shards scattering across the floors.
"You fucking bastard, Castor!" Ianora shouted in a rage, grabbing things from every direction—flowerpots, picture frames, books, anything not too heavy to lift—and throwing them at the walls, windows, and door. "Why? Why would you do this to me? All I wanted ... I only left you because ..."
Nothing around the room had budged. She was still a prisoner, locked away until he decided to free her.
When Ianora's arms were so sore from throwing things, a hiccuping sob escaped her, and she fell to her knees to let the tears fall. Despair clung to her like a second skin, knowing that as long as Castor kept her, she would be beholden to him.
He could starve her of blood to make her do his bidding. Neglect to let her family see her. Trap her, use her body as he pleased.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
With one last dying breath, Ianora grabbed a candle stick and threw it at the wall. It hit the heavy tapestry, an image of a man on horseback, and the fabric ruffled in place.
But the candle stick was gone.
Ianora blinked at the tapestry for a minute. She hadn't heard the heavy brass hit the wall or clank on the ground. So where had it gone?
She wiped her eyes and stood on wobbly legs, leaving her position to investigate the tapestry.
When she touched it, her hands fell through, and the momentum sucked her forward into the darkness of a tunnel.
As soon as she was on the other side, Ianora ran. She didn't know where she was going ... just that she had to get away from here.
The walls of the tunnel weren't polished like those of the refined rooms Castor had locked her in. They were of jagged rocks, and the floor was bumpy and uneven as she navigated her way through the darkness. In the distance, she heard rushing water. She clung to the sound and ran in that direction. The air in the passage was stale, as though no one but her had tread here in centuries.
Soon, the tunnel began to open up, splitting into two directions.
There was still no light to be found, no sounds beyond the hint of water. Would the water be outside? Ianora stepped toward the passage where she heard the sound coming from, but her foot snagged on something, and she tripped. Catching herself on the stone wall, she turned to see what had snagged on her foot.
She swallowed when she saw that her foot was embedded in a skeleton's rib cage. Taking a deep breath, she carefully unwedged the ancient bones from her ankle, discarding them on the dusty floor.
"That's rude, don't you think?" a voice came from behind her.
Ianora jumped, but she was better prepared for the strange, talking entities wandering the castle by now. However, when she turned around, she hadn't expected to come face-to-face with the floating white body of a young woman.
"Trampling on my grave, shattering my bones, then tossing my ribs to the ground like they're nothing," the young woman went on. "At least put them back where you found them!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Ianora glanced at her feet, which refused to move now when they'd been in such a hurry moments ago. She shoved her sweaty hair out of her face. "I feel like I've been saying that a lot since I arrived here."
The ghost squinted at her. "You're her, aren't you? The bride the whole castle's been whispering about."
"Yes, that's me." Ianora paused. "Unfortunately."
"Well, if you're trying to escape a fate in King Castor's bed chambers, you'll not want to go that way." The spirit gestured to the path Ianora had been headed in. "It just heads to the underground tunnels where ... unless you can hold your breath for two days straight, and you're a strong swimmer. You're not getting anywhere."
"Where does the other tunnel lead, then?" Ianora asked.
The woman shrugged. "Why don't you go see for yourself?"
Ianora had no reason to trust this ghost, but she had few options. One way or another, she had to choose a path, and either one risked death or imprisonment. She might as well hope this spirit didn't have it out for her, too, and trust she could lead her to safety.
"All right," Ianora said. "Lead the way?"
The spirit smiled and, in a puff of light, reduced herself into a small mote of light. She floated down the passageway, and Ianora followed down the winding tunnel, the sound of rushing water turning to a quiet hum in the background, until Ianora was so far away that not even her enhanced hearing could pick it up anymore.