1. Katrin

Chapter 1

Katrin

I was not prepared to meet Death at the tender age of twenty.

At the time, I was convinced the only way I would leave this life was kicking and screaming, that whoever came to claim my soul would need to drag me to the Afterworld and bar the way back. I couldn't comprehend how anyone passed peacefully, or that still others yearned for death.

Naive thoughts of an entitled mind.

They ran rampant as I darkened the corner of the sunlit drawing room, wishing I could drown out the vexing noise.

The bluebells were ringing again.

Like all the times before, my mother gave no indication she also heard them.

No one ever did.

Could they truly not hear them? Or did we all suffer from the same shameful silence, too concerned by what others thought to speak up when something was amiss?

I stalked to the window, determined to find the source of the phantom chimes. Those pesky little flowers needed to be pruned.

Ornate bronze hooks held back the brocade drapes, providing me a clear view of the manor's lush gardens. They blossomed with asters, chrysanthemums, and coneflowers. Almost every color of the rainbow sprawled before me in artful patterns: pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows.

Noticeably absent was blue.

Though unsurprising, the absence of the late spring bloom failed to explain the persistent ringing.

Suppressing a shiver, I balled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes shut. Darkness greeted me like an old friend, its comforting embrace somehow muffling the haunting melody.

I sighed, and the scene on the back of my lids transformed. The darkness shifted, swirling and pulsing like living shadows. As though sensing my attention, it expanded, preening like a peacock before its mate. It welcomed me, enticed me with promises of peace and quiet.

An escape.

An eternity.

My eyes shot open, frantically searching the sunny drawing room for any trace of shadows, wishing I could claw off those that marked my skin. I would take the incessant ringing over the beckoning dark.

"Katrin."

I jolted at my mother's voice and turned toward where she sat at the other end of the parlor. She stared back, concern pinching the space between her brows. The needle in her hand hovered forgotten over the cloth she'd been embroidering.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

The ringing had grown distant, but I couldn't shake off the chill that permeated deep into my bones. Even the sunlight felt cold on my skin.

She angled one ear toward me, suspicion evident in the purse of her lips. Her brown eyes darted around the room as she listened then shook her head. "I don't hear anything."

I nodded in understanding, willing my lips to curve upward. Smiling was such an effort anymore, but I managed it for an instance.

Mother's gaze softened, and she gestured toward the envelope clutched in my hand. "It won't bite."

I sniffed. "That's what you think."

I'd all but forgotten the invitation that had arrived shortly after lunch. Though nearly an hour had passed, I still hadn't opened it.

I brought the offending paper up to eye level, holding it up to the light like I could reveal the secrets within. There was no danger of it sprouting teeth and attacking me, but letters like this caused a different kind of pain. One that cut deeper than the eye could see.

I offered my mother another smile and sat at the small writing desk by the window. Satisfied, she returned to her needlework. My breath came easier the moment her eyes left me. The weight of her expectant gaze never failed to affect me.

Nearly one and twenty and I still yearned for my parents' approval.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I swept my gaze over the calligraphic flourishes and gilded touches. It seemed only I could sense the cruel mockery of social grace hidden beneath the finery, the taunting approximation of common courtesy that made me squirm.

I flipped the invitation over and traced the familiar wax seal. I'd been expecting this announcement for weeks, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. I slipped a finger beneath the flap and hesitated. If I never opened it, I could remain in blissful ignorance. I didn't need to know that life was continuing on without me.

As though sensing my indecision, my mother looked up. The heat of her stare branded me from across the room, and I shook off my morose thoughts. Nothing bothered me more than sinking into my own melancholia, though lately I'd noticed it happening more and more often.

Straightening my spine, I tugged the seal free, gasping as the thin edge of the paper passed through my skin. A small line of blood pooled along the surface, bold against the pale backdrop. I held my hand out to my mother as though a papercut would prove my point. She rolled her eyes and turned her focus back on her work.

Sucking my wounded finger, I pulled the card free and skimmed the sprawling text.

The words cordially invited and wedding struck me like a dagger to the heart.

My stomach dropped.

It was exactly as I'd feared.

I blinked to dispel the excess moisture from my eyes before my mother could remark upon it.

"Remind me to respond with my deepest regrets," I said, tossing the card atop a pile of similar notes.

Mother tsked . "That's the third invitation you've declined this season."

"And I expect there will be many more." My tone was more defensive than I intended, but I had no interest in continuing the conversation.

"You and Miss Taryn used to be so close, though."

"Yes, we used to be. Before…" I trailed off, glancing down at the darkened fingers of my left hand. Mother knew exactly what had transpired to make me the social pariah I was today, watching as all my former friends debuted, courted, and married. All while I remained tucked away from everything I'd once known.

With a twitch of my head, my chestnut waves fell forward to cover the left side of my face. I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around trouser-clad legs, pointedly ignoring the warning glare from the other side of the room. Proper fashions and manners meant nothing to me now. There was little point to any of it when I refused to leave the manor.

"She is to marry Lord Tanner," I said.

My mother straightened at that bit of news. There was a time I had been favored for Tanner's hand. Our parents had discussed the possibility at length. I'd even begun to practice writing my name as Lady Katrin Bellvue.

"You should consider attending at least one of those events," said Mother, gesturing to the stack of discarded invitations. "Maybe not that particular one, but it would do you some good to keep up appearances."

I tilted my head to regard her through my curtain of hair. "What appearances would those be, Mother?"

Her eyes widened at my icy tone. "I only meant that it's been some time since you've had to observe any kind of"—her eyes traveled the length of my body from my legs to my unkempt hair— "propriety."

"They only invite me because of Father."

"Now, Katrin. That's simply not true—"

"Is it not?" I yanked my hair back from my marred face and gestured to the dark whorls that discolored half of it. "You think I don't know what they say about me? Even servants talk, Mother. They call me cursed. They worry I've some contagious disease that will infect them all like the plague. You think all these merry couples desire to have the ‘marked one' at their wedding?" At her answering silence, I rushed on. "I haven't seen or heard from any of these people in years, but no one can afford to snub the Duke of Felwyck outright by omitting his daughter from their guest lists. And so, we shall continue this game wherein they invite me to their luncheons and balls, and I respectfully decline."

Mother sagged, and I felt a tinge of guilt at my directness, but this was an argument we'd had time and again.

A pragmatist in a family of optimists, my capacity for hope had vanished with every inch of skin claimed by shadow. There was only one thing keeping me going, and it wasn't the promise of future social engagements. I just needed all the right pieces to fall into place. Even then, chances were slim that all would work out in my favor. As much as it pained me, someone had to prepare my family for the harsh eventuality my future held.

I strode to my mother's side. She looked up at me with glassy eyes as I perched upon the arm of her chair. Holding her stare, I clasped both of her hands in mine.

"I know you wish for me to have a normal life. Trust me, I want nothing more than to have my own season, attend luncheons and balls, and court the finest men of the kingdom. There is nothing I wouldn't give for the chance to live the life that was stolen from me the day I was marked, but this is my lot. This is the hand I was dealt." Pulling back my hair, I bared my ruined face to my mother. Though she didn't glance away as most did, the pity that transformed her features had me pulling back. "I may not have a chance at winning, but at least I'm still playing the game." My cheery tone belied the heaviness that had washed over me.

Mother tilted her head, considering me. Her eyes traveled over the shadowed side of my face and finally returned to mine, steel resolve blazing forth.

"Oh, Katrin. You are not in the game. You are watching it unfold from behind a curtain."

I stood, letting my hair fall back over my shame. "If Taryn wishes to see me, she may call on me privately. I've no interest in becoming a public spectacle. No more than I already am, at least."

Knowing this conversation could go in circles for hours, I turned and stormed out of the parlor. Mother called after me, but I put one foot in front of the other until I was certain she hadn't pursued me.

All the while, the bluebells rang.