The Criswell's Curse

Several days ago, at the Carlyle residence, Bradley was in a foul mood. He was annoyed, frustrated, infuriated with the events of that day. And now he couldn’t approach Ophelia. The guards would simply prevent him from entering the estate, no matter how many times he tried.

Bradley rested on the couch as a book hid his face from the sunrays entering through the half-opened window. “Another letter? I already told you to throw them all away.”

“It’s… from Lady Ophelia, Master...” Aiden stated, just to see his body immediately rise, returning to its energetic state.

“Is that so...” He coughed, pretending to be calm. However, his aide could see how anxious he was. “Give it to me.”

In a single movement, he opened the envelope being embraced by a sweet scent of a freshly picked rose. As his eyes read each word carefully, a glimmer would sparkle in them; a wide smile spread on his lips.

After reading its contents several times, his body froze. Why would she invite him?

His heart was thrilled, yet his reason made him suspicious. Ophelia was clearly not on his side; she had made him perfectly aware of that fact, just like her feelings towards him - which was one of the few things that made her so alluring.

Could this letter be a challenge? A way for to get even?

“Send word to my tailor. We have a party to attend!” Having decided, Bradley was eager, hungry to face her, to win.

This time, he would make her play his game. She wouldn’t win, she wouldn’t defeat him again. He’s seen her, several sides of her, and he knew she wasn’t a frail bunny waiting to be captured; instead, she was a fox, luring others into her traps. Until now, Bradley had played the game thinking she was innocent, naïve - but things had changed. He wouldn’t face her with mercy. She was going to handle the real deal, the one lion of Ashen who preyed on foxes, who trapped them in their own webs.

Even then, his heart raced. It wasn’t just the excitement of this little charade of a competition; his mind already knew it was merely a matter of time before Ophelia truly became his. And, to him, this futile display of power, of resilience she had, was a pitiful yet entertaining last hurrah.

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Finally, the Earl commanded the gates to be opened, and the carriages approached. Nobles began leaving their rides, greeting them with great excitement.

“Lady Ophelia, you look beautiful.” Bradley was one of the first to leave his luxurious transport.

Ophelia couldn’t understand this man’s mind.

How long has he been waiting there to be first in line? Was this his way of capturing my attention?

She cordially smiled. “Lord Bradley, you too look angelical today.”

Much to her surprise, he simply bobbed his head and greeted the Earl before quietly taking his leave. Following him was Aiden, whose head hung low, hoping to prevent any unwanted attention.

As guests kept on entering the garden, Patricia and Holly guided them towards the main area of the event. Their excited smiles couldn’t hide their colors, even the perfect Saint who appeared to be far too pleased with all her new social connections, had lost part of her composure.

“Lady Ophelia, I’ve heard great things about you...” A sweet, alluring voice, much like sirens leading sailors into sinking their ships on the hidden rocks, spoke.

Reactively, she turned her attention to the woman standing in front. “Lady Catherine, I’m delighted to finally meet you. I’ve heard many great things about you as well, My Lady.”

“I’m sure they were.” Her sarcastic voice made the Earl cough, as he impatiently wished to intervene. Catherine frowned, displeased. “Wait for your turn, old man.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened with surprise at her shocking comment. She glanced at Devlin, who looked unbothered, almost as if he had grown used to these types of insults, creating a special armor just for them.

She knew the rumors surrounding Catherine were embellished, but she would never think they were so far-fetched. They described the woman as an extremely graceful noble who expressed her opinions whenever she felt the necessity to, even if they were harsh to some ears. But she was simply plain rude, as if everyone was below her, as if she was the jewelry on the king’s crown.

“I had hoped to meet you during your ball, My Lady, but luck wasn’t on my side.” Trying to lighten up the mood, Ophelia intervened but the woman simply smiled, as if she knew exactly what the girl was trying to do.

In a single swing, the noble lady closed the bright red fan, allowing her vivid red lips to pop out. “Well, I shouldn’t make your other guests waiting, My Lady. My Lord.” She glanced at the Earl, bobbing her head slightly before passing by him, preventing any type of conversation. Momentarily, she stopped next to me. “Do entertain me, Black Rose.”

A shiver ran down Ophelia’s spine as she realized Catherine wasn’t an ordinary noble. She was far from her league, a greater opponent, a smarter person. She gulped, knowing that, by accident, the attention of someone dangerous and erratic now laid on her.

Guests continued to arrive but, besides Bradley and Catherine, only a handful of high-ranking nobles showed up. Ophelia bit down her bottom lip strongly, frustrated that her prey, Marquess Verne, hadn’t taken the bait. She already knew it would be hard as her influence in social circles was small, faint to be truthful, but not all was in vain.

“Oh! My dear sister! I am so glad you could make it! I missed you dearly...!” Ophelia spoke obnoxiously loud when she noticed Duke Criswell and Amanda leave their carriage. Without hesitation, she dashed to her sister, grabbing her hands, just to see her face twist in pure disgust. “I am truly relieved you could recover from your sickness...! I was so worried...!”

“Thankfully, it was only a mere cold...” Amanda replied, pulling away her hands harshly while averting her eyes.

A warm, gentle smile appeared on Ophelia’s lips as her sister placed some distance between them. “Please do not strain yourself... this is simply a humble party...”

“Oh, do not worry. I am indeed feeling better and I wouldn’t miss such a joyous opportunity! It is your first party after all...” Mimicking her sister’s attitude, Amanda smiled.

She only came to this little charade for two reasons. She needed to turn Bradley into his old, caring self while sabotaging this gathering simultaneously. Her goal was to bring shame to her sister’s name, forcing her to become a secluded woman, living solely for her husband, too ashamed to even show her face to the outside world ever again.

Should I just break her teeth? Ophelia could see the intentions hidden behind her sister’s fake smile. That prideful, snobbish smile disgusted her.

“Ophelia, it is good to see you, my child.” A polite sentence, with a polite tone, alongside a polite smile. Perfect to keep up with appearances.

“Of course, Duke, I am honored you could attend despite your busy schedule.” Ophelia grabbed the hem of her skirt, bowing slightly. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her.

Conveniently, now she was part of his blood. How ironic, how hypocritical. It sounded just like him.

As the Duke and Amanda greeted the Earl, trading daggers in their smiles, Ophelia quietly observed them. Every noble had brought some sort of entourage; however, they were alone. She frowned slightly, suspicious of such a strange situation.

Alvin wanted to kill her, that much she was certain. His appearance at today’s event only confirmed her suspicions further and yet, he had brought no one to keep her in check, to carry on his wicked plans. She glanced at Jade, reassuring herself about their teamwork, about their bonds of loyalty and trust.

Let’s see if you can control your greed. She thought as she saw Patricia take them both into the inner garden, rather reluctantly.

“Shall we head inside then, Earl?” Ophelia cordially smiled; however, as she was about to walk away, the sound of horses galloping echoed in the wind. She turned, seeing a known carriage with a familiar crest on its side.

As it stopped right in front of her, her head fell into the ground, her hands turned into pairs of knuckles, crumbling then dress between them. Time froze, passing by slowly as the door opened, as footsteps were heard.

“I hope I am not too late...” Her whole body stiffened as his voice rung in her ears. “... Lady Ophelia.”