“You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have really lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love” -Henry Drummond
The moon hung low that chilly October night. An eerie sound buzzed in the air like a thousand locusts fluttering their wings. A thick, white fog tip-toed between the trees, crawled under the crack between the creaky black gate and the ground and rested on the yard outside her window. Suddenly he appeared. Midnight black hair, icy eyes and a face that could freeze the sun, he made his way up to the entrance and she couldn’t help but feel faint inside. The shadows seemed to follow him as he walked as if masking his true self and the trees whispered words of warning but his beauty was too distracting to listen.
Two soft knocks and she was flying down the stairs, her white skirts trailing behind her. With his chin hanging low his eyes shot darts into hers when the door opened. He gave her one swift wink and they left.
Rosalie smiled as he whispered velvet words in her eager ears. They passed through the creaking gate and walked beneath the winding trees with only the light of the fading moon to guide them. He took her soft hand in his and led her into the darkness of the forest without a word.
The forest, which was usually alive with the chirp of birds and the flutter of falling leaves, was now silent with only the sound of her heels tip-tapping on the cobblestone path below her feet. The man led the way with a cold gaze that made the girls heart twist in unease. “Where are we going?” she whispered in hush tones, struggling to keep her voice from shaking.
The man turned his gaze towards her, alarmed by her angst. “Don’t worry, Rosalie, we’ll be there soon enough”. His striking blue eyes spoke the words of reassurance that his mouth could not.
The two continued on the bath in utter darkness and Rosalie found herself growing more uncomfortable with each step, but she pushed on in silence. At last, they came to an abrupt stop in a clearing just outside of the woods. Damian stood in front of her, his broad shoulders covering you view. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, “I have something I’d like to show you, but you have to wait a moment first”. Damian placed his callused hand over her eyes and they tickled his palms delicately like butterfly wings. Rosalie nodded and her eyes fluttered shut. He moved back, glancing behind him to check that her eyes were still shut tightly and walked a few paces into the darkness, with the silent steps of an assassin.
Rosalie stood alone in the darkness as thick white fog danced circles around her feet. Suddenly every sound in the previously silent forest seemed amplified by her fear. Her breath grew short and quick as each second passed and she longed for Damian’s return. “Ready” , Rosalie jumped as Damian whispered hot breath into her ear.
She opened her eyes, breathing fast. “Oh, it’s only you...”
“Of course it is. Who did you think it was, my dear?” He said as he reached for her hand.
Rosalie gripped his hand firmly and let him lead her into the dark, “Oh, I don’t know, a bear, perhaps? Anyhow, what is it you want to show me?”
He grinned and gestured to the scene before them. Laid out one the green prairie, wet with evening dew was a gold thread blanket and a basket of red wine and French bread. He put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to sit down beside him. Damian brushed back Rosalie’s hair from her face and gazed deep into her eyes, “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”
Rosalie blushed. “Thank you. So…” Rosalie suddenly felt lost for words. She found that to be common when around Damian, perhaps it was the shock of being close to something so beautiful.
“No, I mean it. You have no idea how bad I want to kiss you right now”.
Damian’s words struck deep into Rose’s heart and she found herself feeling light headed. “Then.. .do” she felt the words escaping her lips before she could stop them, “Kiss me,”.
And he did. He held her for long, hard against him his lips pressed softly upon hers. It was in that moment that Rosalie felt nothing, nothing at all, except his lips. Everything else seemed to melt out of her consciousness until all she could do, feel and think about was kissing him.
When she pulled away at last she felt herself wanting more but she didn’t know what or how.
Damian’s smile was masked by the shadows of the trees, making Rosalie flinch at the sight of him. “What wrong?” He asked in a whisper, his voice as smooth enticing as melting chocolate.
“Oh nothing… it’s just I-“Rosalie found herself stumbling for the right words. She didn’t want to come across as too blunt but yet she didn’t want to stop. She wanted, no needed him. After so much loneliness and feelings bottling up inside of her through all the years Rosalie wanted to let go. She wanted to be free and at last she’d found someone she could be free with. “I want more. More of you”
“More of what, my darling?” Damian questioned, the corners of his lips turning to a grin. He knew what she wanted, he could read it all over her; the way her eyes danced circles across his body, the way her lips were puckered every time her look her and the way her hands tapped beside her an energetic air. Yes, Damian knew exactly what Rosalie wanted. “What is it you want?”
Rosalie hesitated unsure of how to convey her feelings without scaring Damian off. “More of… more of, well, you.”
In an instant he was kissing her again but this time longer and harder. This time there was no hesitation, no holding back. Rosalie had broken down a wall in her heart and he was quick to run in.
The next morning Rosalie wakes with a smile on her face. She rolls over and reaches out, “Good morning, Damian”. But no one is there. The bed beside her lays cold and empty, the sheets rumpled and the silk pillow indented. Rosalie sits up quickly and runs through the French doors beside her bed to peer out on the balcony.
Her gaze meets no one but the birds, fluttering carelessly in the birdbath out front.
She runs back inside, her white silk robe twisting in a rush behind her like a tail. “Damian?” She calls out, a smile on her face. He must be making us breakfast. “Damian?”
One of the maid servants whisks by with an armful of fresh laundry. “Excuse me miss, you didn’t happen to see a young man walking around the halls this morning? I fear he may have gotten lost in this big place…”
“No, Ma’am.” The young servant girl replies in a hush tone. “May I help you with anything else?”
“No, no that will be just fine.” Rosalie responds, continuing down the hall with quick feet. “But let me know if you see him!” She calls back.
The grand marble staircase echoes the tap of each footstep as Rosalie glides down the steps, all the way calling out his name “Damian?” Her voice grows more hopeless each time.
When she finally arrives in the dining room there are people everywhere: the guards, the Maids, the horsemen, the housekeepers, the gardeners, the cooks, her parents and her close friends but there is no sign of Damian. After asking around and searching every floor and every corner, at last Rosalie gives up, retreating to the forest behind the castle.
The woods are warm and colorful, quite a contrast from the night before. Rays of sunshine break through the trees, creating streaks of light that shimmer upon the fallen leaves and debris.
She walks along a cobblestone pathway, hidden somewhat by moss, until at last, she arrives at the river where she sits down cross-legged. She dips her hand into its cool, light blue surface and cups water, bringing it up to her lips. The water fills her mouth, cold and sweet to taste. In the solemn silence the thin stream trickles beside her and one single tear falls upon its surface. She watches as the tear blends in with the tears of the sky and glides down in a thin stream, forgotten. She promises herself one thing: Never again will she let her guard down. In the distance she hears a maid servant calling out her name, “Rosalie! Rose, my dear come hither!” Rosalie, with feelings of shame and disappointment filling up inside of her, closes her eyes tightly and thinks of a happier time.
It was June and the sun was fading on the horizon of red and orange. Rosalie was walking home from the beach, her sand caked sandals dangling beside her, humming a pleasant tune as she followed a path that ran along the water’s edge.
The path was silent and empty as most areas of the castle grounds tended to be, other than the occasional visitor or servant passing through. Rosalie wasn’t bothered by being alone; it gave her time to reflect on her innermost thoughts and dreams, but today a pang of loneliness ran through her heart.
She took a sharp turn and followed a different path that wound through the courtyards, to spice things up. The pathway was surrounded by neatly trimmed rosebushes on both sides that were tall enough to block her vision. The evening grew darker and colder with each moment that passed and Rosalie found herself wanting to be home, in the safety of the castle walls. The wind whirled around her, filling her ears with a loud whining sound. Suddenly the bushes a few feet in front of her started to rustle. “Who goes there?” She cried out. No response. Assuming that it was merely a white rabbit, which were common in these parts of the kingdom, Rosalie continued her walk. She had only moved a few paces when the bushes