The Criswell's Curse

“Ophelia! Wait! It’s dangerous!” Mace yelled as he ran towards me, almost stumbling on the rough pathway made of dry dirt and stones. “You shouldn’t...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to chat, My Lord.” As I was about to pull the reins, he placed himself in front of the horse.

“It’s too dangerous, Ophelia. You can’t possibly go alone!” His arms stretched far and wide, forcing the white stallion to back away reluctantly.

His expression froze seeing the intense hatred burning through my gaze. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting such expression to appear on my face. “I don’t remember asking for your permission. Now move or turn into the land, either way, I’ll pass.”

Mace’s eyes widened, shocked by such words. I didn’t hate him, nor did I like him. But if he stood in my way, he’d need to do what men do best, he’d have to fall.

“Go Angel.” My fingers clutched the reins within their grasp before swinging them harshly onto the horse. The noble’s body moved immediately to the side, understanding my words were not shallow, void of conviction.

The white stallion galloped as fast as it could, passing the Wharton’s estate, passing the fields of grass on the horizon. Sunlight bathed us, wind blew against us, and yet the trail left by the carriage was still fresh, still recent. That coachman was an awfully slow driver.

Ivy and Olivia were new maids, young and pretty, with the perfect blood for Terrel to stain. I could foolishly delude myself into thinking my motive was good, that my heart didn’t want them to go through what I did, but the truth couldn’t be more far-fetched. This was that man’s way of displaying his power, his strength, his grasp on anything and everything that concerned me. He was stealing a maid from my entourage to scare all the others, so they fall back in line, returning to be the obedient little lambs they were raised to be. Ivy was simply a sacrifice, an unlucky girl who had fit the bill. The perfect example of a possible future, a tomorrow rebellion in his domain.

Simultaneously, this was a warning meant for me, written in bold. ‘You cannot go against me. You have no control.’ Were the words written in his despicable mind.

I knew how much my actions had angered him and yet, never in my wildest dreams would my judgment think him to be able to act so rashly, so childishly.

‘You are mine. I can take everything away from you and you can’t stop it.’ Was the other message he attempted to pass.

A suitable bride should obey and watch quietly in her own corner, not making trouble for anyone, especially her husband-to-be. He wanted me to feel guilty, to feel powerless and afraid. Terrel wished to display how far his power could reach and how deluded I was for trying to go against it.

But just as he wished to make my life a breathing misery, I also dreamed of making him sink into despair.

As a good wife, that’s my job, is it not? To care for my husband, to obey my husband, to love my husband and to lure him away from the monsters, from the sins lurking into his soul. Those were my obligations as his personal demon, risen from Blasphemy itself, to follow every God, every day and everyday night.

As I reached half the way to the capital grounds, I spotted the Duke’s carriage. As expected, their pace was painstakingly slow. It seemed as if the coachmen, even being one of Terrel’s man, appeared to possess a human soul who actually felt guilty of the poor girl’s future, slowing down time until she met her demise.

“Stop the carriage!” I yelled, forcing the man to pull the reins from his two putrid black horses. They neigh, feeling the of the pull on their mouths.

His eyes widened as he embraced my figure, dressed in a man’s attire, jumping down the white horse like a knight in shining armor. “Lady Ophelia...? What are you doing here?”

“Retrieving stolen assets.” Without waiting another moment, my hands pulled the door open.

Ivy was inside, holding back her tears, body trembling slightly. Someone had beautifully arranged her hair into two braids passing through her head, strongly attached to her scalp. They had applied powder on her face, forcing her to look paler than she truly was. Her chest popped out due to the overwhelmingly tight corset in the magenta-colored dress. That bastard dressed her like me.

When he did her, would he picture me instead? Not even giving her the barest minimum of self-respect, of self-worth?

“But, milady, these are Lord Terrel’s orders.” The coachmen’s hands were soaked with sweat as he walked down his position, landing his feet onto the dirt. His eyes connected with the maid’s before he hastily averted his attention. Indeed, he felt an overwhelming guilt deep within his core.

“What is your name?” I glared at the man coldly, forcing him to shudder slightly.

He gulped his saliva down hard. “Edward.”

“Then, Edward, please enlighten me. Who owns you?”

“Duke Wharton, milady...”

“That’s right.” I pushed my hair into the ponytail harder, bringing the cloth closer to my scalp. “Did the Duke, perhaps, tell you that Ivy had been reassigned after being handed over to me?”

Edward couldn’t utter a single word. My assumptions were obviously correct.

Terrel was a child who acted on his own terms, not caring about the consequences. He was, what some call, hot-headed, never thinking of his actions straight. The Duke had assigned the maid to me, and this whole charade was pulled off without his consent. There was no way he would’ve accepted this, being the trust-worthy, righteous man he was.

“I am sure you understand that stealing from me is like stealing from the Criswell’s household.” He flinched after hearing my words, sweat slowly dripping from his forehead, wetting his expensive clothing. No one wanted to make Alvin, that wretched man, their enemy.

Still, the servant seemed unsure. He had a job to complete and yet I prevent him from doing so with my family’s good name. “But, milady, Lord Terrel told me to bring Ivy to him. I have to bring her or I’ll...”

Edward was indeed loyal to that piece of scum. Quite a waste, if someone asked.

“I guess it can’t be helped then...”

Ivy’s eyes widened at my words, forcing her to jump out of her seat, hands clenching on the wooden surface. “Milady, please, you can’t possibly...!”

Without giving the woman as much as a look, a grin of satisfaction passed through my lips, knowing exactly how that man’s expression would twist in angst and anger after my little game. “Edward, you shall deliver him his precious ivy and a message from me.”

The man’s eyes followed the tip of my index finger and landed in the stone between the trees and the trunks, all covered in the beautiful shade of green, all thriving with ivy, rooting itself deeply into nature. He gasped, panicking. “Milady, please, you know I…!”

“Do bring as much as you can. We wouldn’t want my dear fiancé to think we are being cheap.”

Knowing there was no way for him to win, the servant reluctantly walked into the forest, slowly pulling down the plants with his bare hands – something that was undoubtedly, not an easy feat. But how could he go against the daughter of a Duke? He was but a lowly peasant who had been lucky enough to serve the heir to the Wharton’s household since childhood and yet, he held no title, no honor, no power. He had no choice but to obey.

“You.” I pointed at Ivy, relief tears leaving her eyes. “You’re coming with me.”