Disguised Vengeance

Chapter 10

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The soft mattress sank slightly under the additional weight as Calla joined her sister on the bed. Pulling the sheets down off Catherine’s face, she forced her elder sister to look her in the eye. Catherine’s butterscotch eyes were dry but filled with sorrow and unconcealed pain.

“How are you coping, sis?” she asked gently. Calla was aware that her sister’s broken friendship was a sensitive topic and that she missed her best friend terribly. Chris’s confession was an unexpected and devastating blow.

“Leave me alone, Calla. I‘m sick,” Catherine mumbled as she curled on her side, turning away from Calla’s searching blue eyes. “I want to sleep.”

“You don’t fool me,” Calla scoffed.

It had been three days since Chris’s confession. Catherine had faked unwell as an excuse to spend the last few days within her chambers in order to avoid Chris.

Being an open book, she was not an expert when it came to masking her emotions. She smiled when she was happy, was not afraid to show her angry or displeasure, and had absolutely no power over her facial expressions when she was sad.

She could not and did not want to lie to her parents or other friends when they interrogated her about her glum mood. As a little girl, she flushed bright red whenever she was untruthful and the embarrassing blush lingered as Catherine grew into a young lady.  Hence, hiding in her chambers seemed like the perfect escape to her problems.

“Stop keeping your feelings locked up within you,” Calla begged desperately. “It will kill you. Slowly, but surely.”

“You haven’t even told Sir Lorax or Sir Stanley or any of your other friends have you?” Calla said accusingly.

“No,” Catherine confessed. “Chris and I have mutual friends. I don’t want to put them in an awkward position by forcing them to choose sides,” she explained while staring out the window at the already completely dark sky. As winter approached, the days grew shorter and darkness engulfed the light at an earlier hour.

“Confide in me then. Unlike the knights, Chris is not my Captain. I won’t have to choose sides,” Calla argued logically while slapping the bed to emphasise her point.

Mumbling incoherently, Catherine buried her face in a fluffy goose feather pillow. She knew that her sister meant well; however, she was not in the mood to discuss it. She needed a few more days, probably weeks, to wallow in the sorrow of her loss. Wishing that Calla would just let her be, Catherine was surprised by her sister’s words.

“Fine. I’ll let you do this the hard way,” Calla said as she slid off the bed with a look of determination. Calla padded towards the window and drew the heavy, red curtains shut. After blowing out the bedside candles, she slid under the duvet and made herself comfortable beside a flabbergasted Catherine.

“You’re not sleeping here,” Catherine whispered. “Again.”

When they were young children, Calla frequently snuck into Catherine’s room after their parents bid them each good night. The sisters would then huddle together, and Catherine would tell Calla a bedtime story to distract her from the “moving shadows that lurked about in the corners.” Claiming that frightening beasts entered rooms through the door at midnight, Calla always insisted on sleeping on the side furthest away from the door. She trusted Catherine to “kill the beast before it could eat her.”