No matter how hard I search my mind, I come up empty. My mind nothing but a blank canvas unwilling to be painted.
Frustrated, I leave the room and storm toward my bedchamber.
I throw open the door before moving toward the mirror. Leaning closer I stare at my maskless reflection.
I blink.
Startled, I realize that I am seeing my unmasked face, and then my eyes shift toward the bed.
My heart pangs as my gut twists.
Whirling I stare at the bed and the woman lying there. Her blonde hair halos her face, her curvy figure barely concealed beneath the silken sheets of my bed.
Unable to stop myself, I take a step toward her.
The woman’s eyes flutter open and she smiles sweetly up at me.
“Welcome home,” her soft voice greets me.
I frown down at her.
Who is this woman?
She laughs and I realize I have asked the question out loud.
“I am your wife,” she tells me. “What a silly question. Now, come to bed. I have missed you terribly.”
I shake my head, taking a step back. Suddenly all I want is to put as much distance between us as possible.
“No, I have business to attend to,” I say, the excuse bubbling from my lips before I can stop it.
She pouts prettily, shifting in a way I am sure is meant to convince me to join her in bed.
Yet, I am not tempted.
There is something wrong here, though I cannot put my finger on it.
“Very well,” she finally says. “Will you at least see to it that the children are taken care of?”
“Children?”
She lets out an annoyed sigh at this. “How is it that you can pretend to have forgotten your own children too?”
Anger fills her face, and I do my best to placate it with promises of checking that the children are fine. Even as I search my mind for the faces of these supposed children of mine and come up empty.
Sweeping from the room, I make my way through the palace, my shadows sweeping up around me in agitation.
Slipping my hand into my pocket as I walk, lost in trying to solve the puzzle of the woman in my bed and the children she speaks of, my fingers absently wrap around the vial.
A jolt of heat shoots up my arm at the contact, and I stop and pull the vial out.
Frowning, I turn it over in my hand.
The is vial now partially full with a thick golden liquid.
Something familiar seeps into my mind as I stare at it. Only just as an image starts to form in my mind, laughter pulls my attention away from the vial.
Pocketing it again, I move toward the sound.
