She ran her fingers along the mare’s smooth white hair
and smiled. She loves to ride. It is the only time that she feels free from her
father’s unending demands, riding fast along the manor’s vicinity, feeling the
cold wind whipping across her face. Seventeen, still not betrothed, and yet she
feels like she’s imprisoned. She looked up and saw fluffy white clouds lazily
floating across the beautiful, blue sky.
It is warm today,
she thought as a trickle of sweat ran down the nape of her neck. She can feel her
curly brown hair sticking to her cap. She remembered what her mother used to
say.
You have such
beautiful eyes, they are color of the sky. That was when she was still
alive. The manor was full of smiles and laughing, singing and dancing.
I hope she knows
how father turned into when she died, she silently cursed. I wonder how things would have been if she
didn’t die.
She continued to brush the mare’s hair with her fingers
and found stubble of tangled hair along the mare’s mane. She frowned.
It must have been
from the puddle of mud we almost fell into, she thought.
Her father would be furious if he sees her grooming her
white mare, but she would love to delay coming back to the manor as much as she
can. She turned to look at the stable where the brushes are being kept and her
breathe caught.
There, standing by the rack where the equipment are
hanged, is a tall young man with a set of deep purple eyes and dark, curly
hair. She studied his dirty white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow.
His hard muscles are evident underneath the thin piece of cloth. It is warm
today, she thought. He looked at her and smiled, revealing white teeth.
She looked away, feeling the color starting to rise to
her cheeks. She forced herself look at him again, thinking that he might
perceive her as a snob. She looked back at the stable and almost gasped as he
moved from the stable towards her.
“What is wrong m’lady?”, he said, smiling.
She looked away again, suddenly robbed of her ability to
speak. She looked up again and saw the gentle crease of his dimples, making her
heart skip a beat.
“Uh-mmm-uh”, she started to say.
“M’lady?,” he asked, his perfect brows creasing his
forehead as he frowned with confusion.
“Her hair got
dried mud. I was thinking of brushing them off”, she managed to say.
He smiled. “Let me help you with that, m’lady. It is my
job anyway. Please sit by the shade, it’s incredibly hot today.”
She scowled. “I can do it by myself.” She doesn’t like it
when people treat her like a helpless little child.
He looked away, embarrassed, briskly walking to the shed.
“We know that m’lady. But if your lord father sees you or finds out, he will
whip us nonetheless.”
She sighed. “He is cruel. Please forgive him.”
“There is nothing to forgive m’lady”, he said, quickly
making his way back to the mare, a large circular brush in his hand. He started
brushing the mare’s mane. “Your father is kind. He gave us home when my father
died, and he let my mother sew and knit little things for the manor. He gave us
food and a warm bed to rest into after a long day at work. It is only proper
that we follow his bidding,” he finished, smiling.
She smiled back.
Sharp pain exploded along her right arm. She gasped and looked
into cold, emerald eyes.
“Brother,” she rasped. “Please, it hurts.”
“You should not speak to the servants in that manner,”
her brother snarled, his hands digging into her arm.
She struggled to be free herself from her brother’s iron
grasp. He looked at the stable boy coldly and the boy could only look away.
She was dragged into the foliage, leading to the trees
that grow around the manor. She tripped on roots and broken branches but her
brother kept a firm grip on her arm. Her fingers started to get numb, she can
feel the tears welling behind her eyes. She willed them back, refusing to show
any weakness.
Finally, they stopped. Her brother released her and
looked around. She can see the panic in his eyes.
“What were you thinking?!,” he whispered, anger lingering
at every word.
“I only went for a ride!”
“That was not what I was talking about!”
“I only spoke to him because he takes care of my horse!”
“Father is already suspecting that you have feelings for
that boy! Do not make him angry. You know what he does to people who crosses
him.”
He hugged her. She can feel him shaking. He gently puched
her away, but kept her at arms reach. He looked so much like mother. The dark
straight hair, smooth handsome face and those piercing emerald green eyes.
“Brother, please.”
“If you really care for this man, stay away from him.
Father will never approve.”
She shuddered. She knows what her father does to the
people he never approves of. It is never kind. Nor gentle.
“I understand.”
That night, when quarter of the moon is high in the night
sky, she climbed out of her window and down a tree branch that grew close to
her bedroom window. She low under the shadow, straining her ears to hear any
movements that would indicate pursuit.
Her boots made shuffling sounds when she steps on dried
leaves. She looked around before proceeding to a familiar path that would lead
to the lake, a good five kilometres away from the house.
By the lake, where she met with him for last two and a
half months, stood a young man with a mane of unruly curly hair. He turned and
saw her. He smiled.
He crept to her silently and cradled her face with his
large, callused hands. He bent down and pressed his soft lips against hers.
A few hours passed, and she found herself thinking about
the way his hands held hers, how his muscular arms easily carried her, his
chest heaving hard as he tried to catch his breathe. She closed her eyes and
saw his purple eyes looking into her bare soul, her bare back against the cold
earth. She rested her hand on her chest. She can still feel the way his lips
traced her neck, his tongue gliding softly down her chest and his strong hands
gently cupping her and sending her to bliss.
Everything ended the following week.
Her doors were locked and her windows barred. The young
man with purple eyes was dragged away, a single name hung in the air as he was
buried.
