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41- This Dark Paradise

Lord Caspian arched over the pipe and draw-string bag. Deft fingers pulled what appeared to be a wad of dry maroon and fuchsia petals out of the pouch.

Keen on getting a better look, Rosalind stood up and took a step closer. The petals were outlined in silver. There were tiny black bits stuck onto them, for a moment she thought they resembled pollen, yet upon closer inspection, Rosalind saw they looked more like broken pieces of hard candy.

Taking the pinch of petals and placing them in the bowl, the lord ground them down with his thumb. Between the pauses in the soft crinkling sound, he looked over his shoulder and spoke, "Come closer."

The air whispered around her but Rosalind could not make out any of the words. Moving to stand at his side, she looked at his hand meshing the petals into the small bowl. "Will this make me feel better?"

Caspian nodded and wiped his thumb on a handkerchief. "It will, my lady. But only a puff."

Rosalind's brows arched. "Forgive me if I am wrong but I think there is more than enough for a single puff."

"You do not need more than one." Caspian turned abruptly and walked to the other side of the desk. Glass rolling against the wood caused a dull thud when he opened a drawer. Uncapping the bottle, the lord placed a drop of red liquid in the bowl.

Watching him in silence, Rosalind pursed her lips. Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, she thought but dared not say anything. Is it better to remain silent in order to get your way?

Caspian fussed with a match. Striking it, he brought the pipe to his lips and touched the tip of the flame to the bowl. When he inhaled, plumes of smoke swirled around his head.

Before she was even offered a puff, Rosalind felt the aroma of burnt molasses and musk reach her. It crawled to her insides as it did that night in the hallway, penetrating its way into her thoughts and tugging at nightmares. She felt her skin crawl like she was about to convulse.

"Look at me." In an instant, Caspian was in front of her, holding her hand. "Look at me," he repeated when her gaze faltered.

Her hands tingled. Something in the distance crept along the corner.

"My lady." Caspian took hold of her chin with his free hand and turned her face to him. Making her look right at him whether she wanted to or not. "One puff," he uttered low and held the pipe close to her lips.

The shadow in the corner grew and swayed like a pendulum. She saw it out of the corner of her eye and trembled. "I am afraid," her voice cracked barely above a whisper.

"Do not be," he replied keeping his tone as quiet as hers. "And keep your gaze upon me."

With trembling fingers, Rosalind reached for the pipe, curved her lips around it, and watched as a pale haze rose from the bowl when she inhaled.

"Hold it in," he instructed.

The smoke filled her lungs, her bones, marrow and blood. It found every inch of her and nestled there.

"Exhale," the lord said and she did. A stream of pale smoke streamed from her mouth. Rosalind watched as Caspian opened his mouth and drew it in.

A sense of calm came over her as swiftly as the fear had. When she glanced at the corner, the shadow was gone.

Caspian took the pipe and drew a breath in. The smoke that floated from his nostrils reminded Rosalind of a dragon.

Her eyelids felt heavy yet at the same time, she felt light. Were she to leap out of a window, she believed she may be able to fly. The room now smelt like sugar, like a birthday cake made by the baker in town. Rosalind smiled. "One more," she begged.

Caspian lowered the pipe and shook his head. "It is unwise."

"You have had two," she held up two fingers.

"And that is because I have been smoking this for many, many years. My tolerance is higher. My good lady, if I give you more, there may be hell to pay."

Slender fingers touched his pipe-holding hand. They rested like butterflies making Caspian's knees weak. "One."

He could have said no for he was a man with no mercy and no caring. But she had come and broken into the icy shell that surrounded him. "One, but..." he drew his tongue along his lower lip while he thought, "not a puff."

Confusion wrinkled her brow. "Then how –"

Caspian nodded to the pipe and cut her off. "I will give it to you."

"I do not understand."

Caspian's lips curved in a faint smile. "Will you trust me?"

"Should I?"

"You should."

Hesitantly, she nodded. "Yes then."

"Open," he said as he brushed his thumb over her lips, "a touch."

Caspian struck a new match. The broken petals sizzled as they were scorched. He flicked the dying match onto the table and brought the pipe to his lips. Caspian drew in a breath, longer and deeper than before. When his lungs were full, he inched to Rosalind until his mouth was millimeters from hers and blew the smoke into her parted lips. And inside the gloom and melancholia of the manor, a sliver of paradise floated from the pipe. 

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