Marcus stared at the prisoner in front of him from his chair. He held his chin by his fingers, trying to understand the person locked away in front of him.
Beatrice stared back at her kidnapper, unsure of what his intentions were. From what she could gather, he appeared to be distressed in thoughts. He seemingly came to her cell to think about things, frequently pacing around in front of her.
"Is your plan to keep me here forever?" she asked him.
"Watch your tone," he replied.
She laughed. "Why bother? What worse can you do to me?"
"Did my son enjoy your tongue?" he asked. "Is this what he found so amusing about you that he would abandon a marriage and want to court you?"
She shifted on the uncomfortable bench.
"Oh, have you finally lost your words?" he snickered. "Not so sharp-witted, are you?"
A guard came down the steps into the cellar. He bowed. "The funeral services are starting shortly."
Marcus waved him away as he stood and gathered his coat. He stopped at the rails of the cell, looking to the prisoner once more. "I have your funeral to attend."
"Tobias will figure out there is nobody in the coffin," she told him.
"He will not want to look," he told her. "We told him you were mauled by wolves; not a pretty sight to see," he looked at her. "A shame, for I am certain your beauty was striking to the impressionable prince."
"You are sick," she spat. "How could a parent go so out of their way in order to make their child miserable?"
"I am making my child successful," he grunted.
"You told him the woman he loves is dead!"
"Loved," he corrected. "Do not make the same mistake again, Miss Prior. My son loved you. Foolishly."
"You will not get away with this," she vowed. "He will not give up!"
"Do not speak of him as if you knew him," he snapped. "You know nothing of my son!"
Without the final word, he left her alone and hurried up the stairs to join the service.
Beatrice closed her eyes and leaned against the wall behind her. She longed to believe that her disappearance was more than a few days; that Tobias did not rush into planning a funeral service in the hopes of forgetting about her.
Her wish did not need to come true, for Tobias would never be able to forget her.
Tobias sat on his side of the bed, holding a clock in his hands. He stared at the hands of the clock as they moved slowly around.
His breath hitched as the clock struck midday, a tear slipping down his cheek and onto the glass.
"Twelve days since her disappearance. Seven days since her death," he reminded himself each day. He set the clock back on his nightstand, turning away.
He glanced at the untouched side of his bed, as neat as ever. The side she slept on. He reached out and held her pillow softly in his hands, bringing it to his lap. He slowly lifted it to his nose, breathing in the memory of her nights spent by his side.
The memory of being able to wake up to her face, knowing he would be able to hear her voice soon after.
His heart pained as he set the pillow back in its place, walking away from the bed.
Tobias stopped at the sight of the torn painting in his room, crouching in front of it. He had ripped it apart after the royal painter attempted to paint a picture of Beatrice from his memory. The painting, he found, was so horrendously inaccurate that he had no other choice but to tear it apart.
Everything paled in comparison to the memory of her beauty.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Evelyn walked inside, growing less and less shocked to the bedroom's messy state. The prince had banned any servant from entering and cleaning the room, wanting to preserve it from the last day Beatrice was inside.
Evelyn walked over and fixed her son's tie and collar, wanting him to be presentable amid his emotional and mental state. She tapped his chest and looked up at him.
No words were exchanged.
They walked silently down the stairs into the main lobby. The castle was grimmer than usual - not even servants wandered around, gossiping. The castle was doomed to an eery silence, consuming those who walked through the halls.
Evelyn reluctantly took her position beside Marcus, who was waiting for them at the entrance. Tobias stood behind them as the doors opened and they were guided forward toward the service.
Tobias looked around and remembered vividly the first time he ever kissed Beatrice. He could feel his stomach rise at the memory of how soft her hand was in his. The way she leaned into his hand when he would hold her face made his heart soar, as did the memory of her kissing him in turn.
Standing in a triangle, the Royal Family straightened themselves and held their heads high as the doors opened and their titles were announced.
The guests of the service turned their heads and bowed as they walked past. Tobias glanced at the sight of Natalie and Andrew Prior staring back at him, their son by their side. Christina and Will sat not too far from them, equally looking to the prince.
I have disappointed them, he reminded himself as he took a seat beside his parents in a secluded sitting area.
Christina looked away from the prince, too hurt to remind herself further of what could have been had her message got to him sooner. She gripped the cloth in her hands as she wiped her tears, remembering how many times she had sat in this seat for the funeral of a friend.
Andrew held his wife's hand tight. Natalie controlled her breaths to the best of her ability, but could not help the few tears that managed to slip down her cheeks. She had never imagined she would be burying her daughter one day. Neither of them had.
The minister approached the podium and began his speech. Tobias did little listening, instead staring at the coffin. Every time he closed his eyes, a new memory of Beatrice flooded his mind.
At the conclusion of the speech, four servicemen came and lifted the coffin in the air. The Royal Family followed first as the guests journeyed to the burial ground. They placed the coffin in the ground, stepping to the side behind the minister.
Tobias slowly approached the hollow ground, staring down at the coffin.
"Your Highness," a voice came from behind. He turned and saw Christina standing beside him, a wrapped box in her hand. "This is a gift. For you," He took the gift and motioned to open it, but she placed her hand on his, preventing any further action. "Open it later."
"Thank you," he told her before bending down and wrapping his arms around her.
It was a sight to see; a servant and a prince locked in a sorrowful embrace. In mourning of the death of Beatrice Prior.
Tobias soon approached Beatrice's parents and bowed to them, which shocked them. He held his hand over his heart. "Your daughter was," he took a deep breath, his eyes burning with tears. "Beatrice was the best that will ever happen to me."
Andrew gulped, stifling in his tears.
"Do not forget her," Natalie cried softly.
"I will never be able to," he promised.
Evelyn approached and reached out to squeeze Natalie's arm, sympathizing with the mother in front of her.
As the service drew to a close, guests began to make their way back into the castle and toward the carriages. The Priors left somberly, yet more at peace than when they arrived. Christina and Will retreated in a paid leave back to Christina's village, needing time away from the castle.
Left alone in the cemetery, Tobias sat in front of Beatrice's grave. He reached for Christina's gift and opened it slowly, in no particular rush.
Life had suddenly lost all its meaning.
He opened the box and paused at the framed photograph. He took it out and sighed, his heart clenching.
A photograph of Beatrice. The photograph she had sent in her paperwork when she applied for the post of a servant.
Tobias gasped aloud in pain as he caressed the photo. He held the frame firmly in his hands, staring at her face.
Her perfect face.
A face that was pained the last time he ever saw her.
The memory caused him to burst into tears, pressing the photograph against his chest, as he sobbed in front of her grave.
Tobias Eaton, for the first time, was unstable.
He was heartbroken.
He was finally destroyed.