Chapter 119: Blackvale’s history
Lucrezia took one final glance toward the gate, but before she could follow the servants inside,
"Lady Anastasia."
She paused.
At the sound of the voice, the hairs along the back of her neck rose instantly.
Lucrezia turned to meet a pair of amber eyes as one of the Sins approached her. They gleamed like molten flame against the delicate veil of snow drifting down from the winter sky.
His dark hair fell carelessly across his brow, and as usual, there was something amused about his expression which terrified her more than it ought to have.
"My Lord..." She curtsied, though the gesture was slightly hurried.
His amber eyes lingered on her for a moment before a faint smile touched his lips. "Greed," he said, and she stared at him. "I’m not a fan of mortal formalities,"
There was an unmistakable trace of disgust in the way he said it. Lucrezia opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t form a word.
"You’re looking much better," he continued, quickly smothering whatever awkwardness in the atmosphere with an ordinary gesture.
Lucrezia straightened slowly, slightly awed by how easy he made it seem. "I am recovering."
"So I see."
Something about the way he said it made her uneasy. Everything about their kind made her feel uneasy.
His gaze moved briefly over her, not quite rude, but assentingly, as though he were comparing the woman standing before him with the one who had been carried from the fair.
"You shouldn’t be out here."
Lucrezia glanced toward the falling snow. "I only came out for some air,"
"I know."
Her brows drew together.
He stepped closer, though not enough to invade her space. "You’ve been confined to that room for weeks. Anyone would grow tired of staring at the same four walls."
Lucrezia said nothing.
"You should join me for a ride through the western grounds sometime," he suggested, the words carrying an almost casual quality.
Lucrezia blinked. "A ride?"
"On horseback." A faint grin tugged at his mouth. "Unless you’ve forgotten how."
"I—I know how to ride."
"Good."
He looked toward the snow-covered courtyard, then back at her. There was something almost considerate in the way his gaze lingered on the thin fabric of her gown, as though he had only just noticed how poorly suited it was for the cold.
"Not today, obviously," he added. "Perhaps when the weather is kinder."
Lucrezia glanced at him.
Unlike her, the snow seemed not to affect him whatsoever. Not a shiver, not even the slightest change in his expression. He stood comfortably beneath the winter sky as though the cold were nothing more than an inconvenience meant for mortals.
"I thought your kind weren’t affected by the weather," she said before she could stop herself.
Greed’s brows rose. "You’ve been learning."
A faint flush warmed her cheeks. "It was only something I noticed," Especially considering how comfortably the servants went about their duties in their usual attire, seemingly unaffected by the chill that had settled over the castle.
"And you were right," He looked down at the snow gathering lightly across the courtyard. "Cold doesn’t bother us much. You, however..." His eyes returned to her, taking in the way she had tucked her hands into her sleeves. "You look as though you’re one gust away from freezing."
She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it.
He seemed to have noticed, and chuckled before continuing, "But once the snow settles, the western grounds are worth seeing. There’s a hunting trail beyond the old stables. Quiet enough that no one will bother you,"
She looked back at him, surprised by the invitation. "Why are you telling me this?"
The question seemed to amuse him. "Because you look bored,"
His answer caught her off guard. Had she really been that obvious?
She lowered her eyes. "I suppose I am."
His smile was faint, effortless. "You’ve spent weeks in that chamber. I’d imagine even the most patient person would eventually want to escape it."
Lucrezia glanced back toward the castle. There was truth in that. "Perhaps," she murmured. But that was hardly enough reason to accept his invitation.
Greed seemed to read the hesitation in her face. He said nothing for a moment, merely watching the snow settle upon the stone railings.
Then, almost as though the thought had only just occurred to him, he said, "Unless you prefer books."
Lucrezia looked at him. "Books?"
"There is an old library beyond the western grounds,"
Library? Her curiosity stirred despite herself when she admitted, "I haven’t seen it."
"Most haven’t," he responded casually, almost naturally even.
"Why?"
His mouth curved faintly. "Because most people have no reason to look for it," he said. "It bores them. But I do believe someone like you would find them valuable considering what I’ve heard about the famous werewolf princess,"
Lucrezia nodded. "Yes," She said rigidly. Her sister had a thing for politics. "May I ask what’s inside?"
"History, mostly."
She hesitated. History? "Blackvale’s history?"
"Among other things."
There was something deliberately casual about his answer that made her more curious rather than less. "And anyone can enter?"
Greed gave a quiet laugh as though he found whatever she said amusing. "Now, I didn’t say that."
Lucrezia’s brows drew together.
He seemed to notice her confusion but did not explain. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the distant towers of Blackvale, half-veiled behind the falling snow.
"You know," he said after a moment, "there was a time when the western grounds were not merely hunting grounds."
Lucrezia’s curiosity sharpened. "What were they?"
"Part of the old royal quarter."
She looked at him with renewed interest.
"Before the castle was expanded, the western side belonged to the first rulers of Blackvale. Their archives were kept beneath the library." His amber eyes returned to her. "Some of the records are still there."
"Records of what?"
"Wars. Treaties. Bloodlines." His smile was faint. "A few things the gods would rather people forget."
Lucrezia stared at him. Something about the casualness with which he said it made the words sound even more significant.
"Then why keep them?"
Why keep something considered unworthy?
Greed tilted his head slightly. "Because destroying history does not make it cease to exist."
Lucrezia considered that carefully. He was right. "That depends on who controls the history," she replied quietly.
For the first time, the amusement in his expression faltered, only slightly enough that she noticed.
"What do you mean?"
Lucrezia hesitated, then glanced toward the castle. "Records are written by whoever survives. If a kingdom wins a war, it can call itself victorious. If it loses, the same battle can become a massacre, a betrayal, or an unfortunate mistake." She paused. "The truth might have been something entirely different,"
Greed remained silent.
His eyes studied her with a little more attention than before.
Lucrezia immediately wondered whether she had said too much. "My apologies," she murmured. "That was merely my opinion."
"No," The single word made her look at him. His smile returned, though it seemed different now. Less amused. "Don’t apologize for having one."
Lucrezia didn’t know what to say.
Greed looked toward the library again. "Tell me something, Lady Anastasia," Something was unsettling in the way he acknowledged her, almost as though he were aware that the name did not truly belong to her and was merely indulging the pretence, reminding her that he knew exactly who she was while allowing her to believe otherwise.