The Taste of Seduction - Chapter 72

Meredith had gotten Kate’s hair easily. For the blood, she had pretended to teach Kate how to knit, then did a maneuver that punctured her fingers a little. When the blood gushed, Meredith swooped up and took the responsibility of wiping it. Kat was 5 years old then. Meredith promised her that she would teach her when she was old enough to handle the pin, but they never got around to doing it.

Kate passed the test. Meredith buried the knowledge and only told her when she was 14. She had expected the child to be erratic about it, or at least excited. Kate had looked at her with a calm expression on her face, and simply said, “I know.”

It had stunned Meredith. It was as though she was being dealt a huge blow. She held Kate’s hands and began to ask a torrent of questions.

How did she know? Who told her? Had she done anything yet? Was she mad at her grandmother for keeping it a secret? Kate said she was not angry, and simply shrugged at the rest of the questions.

Meredith was consumed by fear. She wondered what else the child knew, what she could do. Did she know that Meredith secretly did not find her mother attractive at all, and only wanted to use her as a tool to make Kate? Did she know her absence on that night of the delivery had bee intentional?

Meredith was left with these questions for herself. It at her up from the inside and left her reeling with fear anytime she saw Kate and Kate was quite good at giving a great scare.

She came out unexpectedly from walls and corners, like a wraith. Then she would giggle and hug her grandmother. But Meredith never felt at ease. Guilt ate at her daily till she became pale, till she fell terribly sick from it and withered away. She grew weak on her deathbed, feeling alone, even though Kate occasionally brought her tea.

At some point before she finally died, she was surrounded by a host of demons whom accused Kate of bringing her poison. But it was nothing but her imagination on overdrive. Nothing but her guilt spinning webs of hallucination and pain till she left earth.

Now, Kate lived alone in the castle. Jonas had left long ago, when she was merely two years old. He had abandoned his responsibilities as a father, as though.

He claimed to love her. When she was little, he would often take her horse riding with him.

They would ride across the fields, laughing and playing. She was a baby then, and she could not remember most of the fun experiences they had shared together. It existed as a vague, far removed part of her memory, and she did not miss him.

Kate knew she was from a descendant of witches because it had come to her in a book when she was ten years old. She was reading a novel, when the words blurred into each other, rearranged itself, and began to read differently.

Far from the text she was reading, this was a letter addressed to her by her mother. It told her everything she needed to know, including how her powers would remain latent until she was a certain age, and it would burst through in a time she least expected.

The letter did not disclose what age that would be. In the letter, her mother also urged her to forgive Meredith. Kate felt it was odd that her mother could communicate with her all the way from the great beyond, and still not tell her all the details. Were their messages censored?

Still, she took it in good fate, the texts returned back to how it was, and she continued reading as though nothing had happened. At least, she had something to look forward to now, the unveiling of her magical powers. If only she knew she was not the only one waiting.

********

When Kate turned 18, she resorted to working on her social life. The first step she took was going out, making friends, and accepting invitations to balls and marriage ceremonies.

It was not easy for her because her head had always been buried in a book, and she had learned how to live in solitude. Still, she made the efforts, and it paid off because she got to go out at least once in a fortnight. That was considered a lot of progress to her.

On this particular day, she was dressed to attend the 18th birthday ball of the princess Nora of Mathes. It promised to be a huge affair with aristocrats and princes coming from kingdoms far and wide.

There would be lots of drinks, dances, and the girls in the kingdom took it as an opportunity to widen the horizon in their search for partners. Of course, they would all act coquettish and pretend to have gotten there by chance.

They would feign disinterest and indifference, never slipping up or confessing to the fact that they had come there specifically, dressed in their best outfits to find a suitable, wealthy husband.

That evening, Kate, with the assistance of one of the old maids, Ursula, who had stayed to take care of her, contorted her body into a tight corset, and a gown that ballooned out from the waist. Her hair was made in a French plait, her cheeks were dabbed with rogue, and her face was slightly powdered.

“You look incredible!” Ursula exclaimed. She disappeared into a room and came out with a necklace made of pearls. “This used to belong to your mother. It’s a shame Meredith never gave you before she died.

I discovered it while cleaning this morning.” She hooked it around Kate’s neck. “I am certain your mother would have wanted you to have it. It suits you so perfectly and brings out the green of your eyes.”

Kate smiled. She thanked her, entered the carriage and went to the palace. She was in awe of the place and the efforts that had been put into the party. Gypsies, trick performers, and exotic dancers had been employed for their entertainment.

There were court jesters whom Kate disliked, but she watched the show go on anyway. She dropped her present for the princess. It was a coat which she mad made herself from endless yarns of sheep’s wool.

Kate had been in a corner, watching what was going on with bright, keen eyes, when she spotted a man at the far end of the room. He was looking at her intensely, urging her to keep up the stare.

Kate took in his looks. First, his dark, dark eyes, his hair that hung down to his shoulders, the fine details in his long coat, the rich velvet of his lips. Kate looked away.

She pretended to concentrate on her drinks, but when she looked up, he was still there. Staring right through her with his dark eyes.

He was incredibly attractive, but there was a tension in the air hat was as solid as the goblet she was holding. It was something dark and unfamiliar.

Her stomach knotted and twisted on itself till she felt sick enough to step outside for some fresh air.

When she stepped out, she felt shrouded in peace once more. It was as though something heavy had left, like the strange, beautiful man had sucked up all the joy with the dark pools in his eyes, just like a dementor.

She watched the stars, the way they proliferated in the sky, standing out small but brilliant against the thick darkness. She could hear the noise from the party retreating into the distance as she walked farther and farther out.

Her carriage would not be ready until an hour letter, when the bell would toll and the hour hand of the clock would strike midnight. She could as well wait, but the party had become too suffocating for her.

She took in a deep breath, as though she were trying to affirm her freedom to breathe. She had not known what she was thinking, making all these efforts to dress up and socialize. It was not at all her thing.

She could not still get the image of the man out of her head. Yet, everything about him unsettled her.

“Hello.” A rich baritone voice calls from behind her.

Kate whips around.. The color drains from her face as she finds the same man she had just been thinking of, standing behind her, his hands in his pockets. How had he gotten there? How did she not hear his footsteps or perceived a whiff of this peculiar minty smell he had about him?