Velloria was a city of whispers and stone, and while Colden, June, and Francis dealt with the shadows of their pasts within its walls, Carmine and Meredith arrived at the city gates under the cover of a bruised twilight.
The estate loomed before them—the temporary lodging Charles had directed them to. It was a fortress of high walls and jagged turrets, imposing and unwelcoming. The gates were locked tight for the night, the guards changed and gone. Carmine looked up at the sheer stone face of the wall and sighed. It was too late. They wouldn't be getting in tonight.
"We stay at the inn," Carmine muttered, turning away from the gate.
Meredith nodded, following silently. They walked back toward the flickering lights of the town, the weight of their mission pressing down on the silence between them.
In the Alice Dome, the silence was heavier. Elaine sat in her room, the short ends of her hair brushing against her neck, a constant reminder of the Lioness she was trying to become. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, torn between two worlds. Should she go back to Windmere? Back to the people who understood her scars? Or should she stay and fight for a kingdom that wanted to chew her up and spit her out?
Arthur stood by the door, watching her. He shifted his weight, looking uncharacteristically cheerful.
"I'll be back, My Lady," Arthur said, a strange bounce in his step. "I have... an errand."
"An errand?" Elaine raised an eyebrow. "At this hour?"
"It's important," Arthur said, avoiding her gaze. "Francis... I mean, the Butler asked me to meet him."
Before Elaine could question him further, he slipped out the door.
"Dammit, Arthur," Elaine groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Leaving me alone in this haunted house."
Minutes ticked by, the silence stretching thin. Then, a soft knock rattled the door.
Elaine sat up, frowning. "Arthur? Did you forget your sword again?"
She stood up and walked to the door, opening it with caution. She expected the guard, or perhaps a maid.
Instead, Gladis stood there. Her eyes were wide, filled with a frantic, performative sadness. Before Elaine could react, Gladis lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Elaine in a suffocating hug.
"Gladis?" Elaine stumbled back, surprised. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Gladis sobbed into Elaine's shoulder. "I was just so scared... I heard noises..."
Elaine hesitated, then patted the girl's back awkwardly. "It's okay. You're safe."
Then, the door creaked wider.
From the shadows behind Gladis, Lady Tisdale emerged. She moved with the silent grace of a predator. In her hand, she held a heavy, ornate fan made of iron and ivory.
Elaine saw the movement over Gladis's shoulder. Her eyes widened. She tried to push the girl away, but it was too late.
Tisdale brought the fan down with brutal force, striking Elaine squarely on the head.
The world spun. Pain exploded behind her eyes.
*Fuck,* Elaine thought, her legs giving way as darkness crowded her vision. *That bitch.*
Back at the inn in Velloria, the tension was rising.
Carmine stood by the window of their cramped room, staring out at the dark street. Her mind was racing, trying to find the right words—the perfect sentence that would convince Elaine to leave that wretched Dome and come home.
She turned around and saw Meredith sitting on the bed. The maid was hunched over, scribbling furiously in a small, leather-bound journal. She looked engrossed, a soft, dreamy expression on her face.
"What the hell is that?" Carmine asked, her voice sharp.
Meredith jumped, slamming the journal shut. "Nothing. Just... thoughts."
Carmine crossed the room in two strides. "Give it to me."
"No," Meredith said, clutching it to her chest.
Carmine didn't have the patience. She grabbed Meredith's wrist and pried the journal from her fingers with the strength of a soldier. She flipped it open.
It wasn't a diary of daily chores. It was filled with sketches and words. Sketches of Elaine. Poems about her red hair, her eyes, her stubbornness.
*She still loves her.*
Carmine felt a surge of possessive rage. She threw the journal onto the floor, the pages fluttering wildly.
"What the hell?" Meredith shouted, scrambling to pick it up.
Carmine grabbed Meredith by the collar of her dress, slamming her against the wall. "I know what you're after. You're going to try to set up with her. Now. When she is broken and gutfully hates her past. You think you can just waltz in?"
Meredith glared back, her face twisting into a sneer. "Well, you can't be with her, Carmine. You're a servant. A guard. She will never choose you. She needs someone who understands the Dome. Someone like me."
The words hit Carmine like a physical blow. Tears welled up in her eyes—not from sadness, but from sheer, blinding fury.
"I will make her," Carmine whispered, her voice trembling. "She is mine. I love her. And I don't want to lose her."
She released Meredith and turned, bolting for the door.
"Wait!" Meredith called out, but Carmine was already gone, sprinting down the hallway of the inn, out the front door, and into the night.
She ran. She ran until her lungs burned, following the path she knew by heart from the stories. She had to meet her Elaine. She had to save her.
She reached the Alice Dome. The massive iron gates were locked for the night, the estate silent and dark. Carmine didn't hesitate. She grabbed the cold iron bars and scrambled up, her boots scraping against the stone pillars. She vaulted over the spikes, landing softly on the gravel path inside.
She crouched in the shadows, catching her breath. Her eyes scanned the courtyard.
Then she saw them.
In the dim light of a lantern near the side entrance, she saw Gladis dragging a limp figure. It was Elaine. Her head was bleeding, her body motionless. Gladis was struggling to pull her toward a heavy, iron-bound door that led down to the lower parts of the house. The basement.
Rage and terror flooded Carmine's system.
"You wait there, girl!" Carmine shouted, sprinting across the courtyard.
She didn't see the trap. She didn't see the shadow behind the pillar.
As she ran, a heavy club swung out from the darkness. It connected with the back of her head with a sickening thud.
Carmine's vision went white. She stumbled, her legs giving out. She hit the ground hard, the gravel biting into her cheek.
As she blanked out, the last thought that drifted through her mind was a bitter, desperate realization.
*What we do for lovers...*
To be continued.