Shadows Of Desire
Phantoms

“Una, make ready my bath.” Lady Emilia followed her maids into her chambers. She crossed through the antechamber and into the sitting room then froze. Her ladies stood in a semi circle near the door leading to the bedchamber, their heads down. Emilia frowned. “What are you doing in here? These are my personal chambers.”

Lord Killian looked up and scowled. “What? A man can not visit his own wife?”

Emilia sighed. She slipped off her gloves and handed them to one of her ladies then turned to Killian. “Not without an invitation.” She grumbled. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I missed your company.” Killian rubbed at his temples, not bothering to look at Emilia.

Emilia scoffed. “I replace that hard to believe. You made it very clear on our wedding night that you had no desire to even be in the same room as me.”

“I’ve since had a change of heart.” Killian murmured though his words didn’t sound very convincing. Still, he rose from his seat then walked to his wife and took her hands in his as he looked her in the eyes. Emilia sneered at him, suspiciously.

“What are you playing at?” She narrowed her eyes, quickly pulling her hands out of his grasp. “If you think for one minute that I believe you actually care then you’re a fool. I’ve long since given up hope that you would love me the way I loved you. I see now that no matter what I do, your blackened heart still belongs to my rotting corpse of a step-brother.”

Lord Killian snarled and Emilia laughed seeing the anger in his eyes. She liked taunting him. She liked watching him fume and suffer. It was the only thing now that gave her any real joy. If she couldn’t have him for herself she’d see him suffer for her own amusement.

“You are a vile woman.” Killian growled, glaring hatefully at her. “Just like your snake of a mother.”

“Be careful, My Lord. To speak of our Queen in such a way could be considered treason.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Treason? You mean like murdering the King?”

“A slave murdered the King.” Emilia hissed between clenched teeth.

“Yes, I know. And the royal guard is out right this minute, searching for him. It’s a shame they won’t replace him, or if they do, some poor, innocent, soul is going to hang for a crime he didn’t commit.” He took a step closer, his eyes bore into her, almost down to her soul-if she had one. “And when an innocent is strung up, how will you feel? Will the guilt of knowing that the true assassin has gone unpunished gnaw at your gut? Will it affect you at all?”

“No, it will not, because the true killer will be revealed and punished for the crime. There is nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Would you turn on your own mother then?”

“My mother did not kill the King.”

“So you say.”

“So I know.” Emilia sneered. “Why would she murder her husband? She loved him.”

Killian laughed at that. “Love? Your mother loves money and power. Do you know that the servants already suspect her of killing the King? Not that anyone cares mind you. They all hated the man and are glad he’s dead. What they do care about is that your mother is trying to blame an innocent slave for his murder.”

Emilia pursed her lips as she scowled at Lord Killian. “I will say this for the last time. My mother had nothing to do with the King’s death. She was a victim in this the same as he and, I will hear no more about it.”

“Say what you will but I know the truth and soon the entire Kingdom will know the truth as well.” Killian turned away from her and began walking towards the door when Emilia stopped him.

“What are you planning to do?” She demanded.

“Me?” Killian smirked. “Absolutely nothing. Let your mother play the grieving widow all she wants. I honestly could care less. I’m just warning you. There are whispers in the halls. Dark spirits haunt the palace and the ghosts of the dead will not stay silent for long. They seek their vengeance. They are coming.”

Emilia stared at him, aghast. “You’ve lost your mind.” She told him. “You have truly and honestly lost your mind.”

“Perhaps so.” He sneered as he turned away from her, headed for the door. “But at least I still have my head.”

***

“I know you’re there.” Killian spoke to the shadows as he walked slowly down the corridor. The light from the burning candles seemed to be sucked away as the hall grew darker the further he walked. He didn’t bother to walk faster or even try to run. Out running the shadows was useless. They always found him. Relentlessly they followed. An unwanted companion that never left his side. Not even while he slept would they leave him alone. The shadows swirled around him and the whispers persisted, laughing and calling out to him. Accusing him over and over again. They were a constant reminder of his guilt.

Finally he stopped and turned around, peering into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the specter haunting him. “What do you want from me?” He asked in frustration. “I can’t bring you back.” He said, hanging his head as he ran a hand through his golden locks. “By the grace of Sheul I would if I could, but I can not. You are lost to me now.”

The whispers became louder, almost deafening, and still their words were unclear. What ever the message was, he could not make it out. “Just tell me.” He pleaded with the darkness, pressing his hands to his ears. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Just, please, stop tormenting me so.” Killian leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Just tell me what you want.” He sobbed. “I can take no more of this torture.”

***

“You are very lucky that you’re not locked away with the others.” Queen Caroline sat at her vanity looking into the mirror watching as the maid behind her brushed and braided her hair.

“Yes, your majesty.” The girl spoke softly, keeping her eyes down, not daring to look the Queen in the face. Not even her reflection.

“The perpetrator was an elf, not a Dryad like you, but still I thought it safer to lock up all Fae in case any of you may be conspirators.” The Queen grabbed the girls hand and pulled her around to the front so the Queen could look at her directly and not through the glass of her mirror. “I should have locked you up though. You’re such an ugly thing. Nothing human about you, is there?”

The girl said nothing, only kept her eyes locked on the floor. “I suppose my folly is that I have come to rely too much on you. You know how I like things done and have never disappointed me. It would be too much of a bother to train someone new should I have you put to death.”

The girl shivered at the Queens words. The Queen sighed and pushed her away. “Does it frighten you, knowing that I could kill you any time I like?”

“It does, my Queen.” The girl answered, truthfully.

“Then you would never want to disappoint me, would you?”

The girl shook her head. “No, my Queen.”

“Good. Now, go turn down my bed and get out. I’m sick of looking at your disgusting face.”

The girl hurried away from the Queen and went straight to the large, four poster bed in the Queen’s chambers and began to pull back the spread and top sheet. The room, once the King’s own chambers, was larger than the chambers that Caroline had occupied before. The King always made sure that his rooms were by far the largest and most extravagant in the palace. Now that she was Queen, Caroline thought it only fitting that she should occupy those rooms now.

The Dryad bent over the bed, smoothing out the bottom sheet with her hands, her rough skin resembled tree bark but it was the texture of her hands that made her the ideal one to tend the Queen’s bed. Her rough skin combed over the linen sheets, smoothing out any wrinkles and removing any lint left behind from the wash. The Queen despised wrinkles in her bed and hated lint even more. The girl kept her green, grassy, hair pulled back and hidden beneath a white coif. Any stray hair that fell in the Queen’s bed would earn her a beating.

When she was done, she turned and stood next to the Queen’s bed, her head bowed, red eyes focused on the floor and her hands neatly folded in front of her apron. She knew enough not to speak. Despite having asked her questions, the Queen hated the sound of her voice which had the echo of wind blowing through the tree tops. True there was nothing remotely human about the girl and her species was clear to any who saw her but she wasn’t ugly as the Queen thought, not in the slightest. There was a beauty to the girl that any lover of nature would instantly see. Still, the Queen’s words strung and the girl cowered under her watchful glare.

“Heather, where did...” The Queen stopped suddenly. Her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the bed. “What is that?” She hissed, pointing a claw like finger to the mattress.

Heather turned, and looked at the bed she had just smoothed out. She saw only the crisp, white, clean sheets that had just been put on the bed that morning.

“Your majesty?” Heather narrowed her eyes, confused, as she turned back to the Queen. Careful not to meet her eyes.

“That!” The Queen shrieked. “That stain right there! Don’t you see it?”

Again Heather looked to the bed then back to the Queen. She shook her head, fear creeping up her spine as she watched her Queen becoming more and more panicked.

“Are you daft!” The Queen screamed out suddenly. “There’s a dark red stain in the center of the bed as big as my head!”

When Heather again failed to see what the Queen was pointing at, the Queen suddenly grabbed her by the hair and pushed her head, face first, into the mattress. “Do you see it now you ignorant twit!” She yelled.

Heather gasped then struggled her way out of the Queen’s talon like grasp and fell to the floor. Sap like tears leaked from her eyes and she scrambled to a corner out of the path of her Queen’s frantic flaying arms and shivered.

“Simpleton!” The Queen cried. More maids ran into the room, alarmed by the Queen’s rants. “Burn it!” She cried out to them. “Take the sheet and burn it! Burn it now or I’ll have all of your heads!”

A young vampire servant went to Heather and scooped the crying girl up in her arms then quickly walked her out of the room. The others made quick work of stripping the bed of it’s sheets and rushed them away as new ones were brought in to replace the old. The maids quickly made the bed and once more smoothed the sheets out. The clean linens so white they were almost a glare of light within the candle lit room.

Caroline sighed a breath of relief as she approached the bed. She was about to demand the chamber maid who’d made her bed in the morning be brought to her when she froze. Her face drained of color as she stumbled backwards, placing her hand to her mouth and screamed before fainting away on the rug in front of the bed. One of the maids looked at the bed then looked to the Queen. She couldn’t understand what had happened or why the Queen was so upset. There was nothing there.