The Dead Man’s Palace
IX
Havana wanted to follow immediately
when she saw the woman drag
Miss Cecilia away, but a wave
of admirers and the fear of
peaking her husband’s curiosity stopped her.
If he spent any time with Miss Cecilia
her deception would be revealed.
But the longer they stayed away
the more uneasy Havana grew.
‘I need to freshen up.’ She announced,
beginning to move to the door.
The people parted without question,
a sensation that made her uneasy.
She’d preferred it when she was invisible.
Her shadow, her personal lady’s maid, followed,
and Havana didn’t acknowledge her
enough to think of stopping her.
They were still in the hallway,
the woman gripping Cecilia’s arm
and talking in hushed tones.
Cecilia looked pale and hurt
in a way Havana had never seen.
‘Let go of her.’ Havana commanded.
The woman looked up, eyes amused and defiant.
Havana could sense a wall around her.
‘How ironic, your sacrifice is trying to save you.’
Cecilia didn’t even spare Havana a glance,
she peered behind her at the lady’s maid
who froze in her gaze.
‘Bring me a knife.’
The maid immediately ran off while
the woman moved her arms to Cecilia’s neck.
‘Recovering already? No, I can’t let you live,
dear daughter. You’ll destroy everything.’
Havana had been forgotten
but she moved swiftly before she was remembered.
A rage and thirst she’d never known
clouded her mind as her hands
clamped on the woman’s shoulders,
holding her in place as Havana
bit down on her neck.
The taste wasn’t satisfying the way
the dead man’s blood had been, it left her feeling
empty, like a bubble of nothing
was forming around her, isolating her.
The woman groaned weakly and Havana
released her, letting her fall to the ground.
‘Perhaps I should be grateful after all.’
Cecilia spoke, drawing Havana from her shock.
‘I would have hated being a monster.’
Havana frowned, realising she felt no loyalty,
no devotion and no empathy to her former master.
‘You already are a monster, Cecilia.’
Cecilia’s laugh was joyous, no longer looking
at Havana with hatred, but with satisfaction,
like a child who found their toy entertaining.
The lady’s maid scuttled back, sinking to her
knees and presenting a kitchen knife to Cecilia,
she didn’t even acknowledge Havana.
‘Do you know why my name means?
What my father decided would define me?
Blind. Cecilia means blind.
He lied about my heritage and she,’
she spat, kneeling by the woman,
‘My real mother, only created me as a sacrifice.’
With one swift motion, no hesitation,
Cecilia slit the woman’s throat.
She rose back up, not even looking
at her mother, gurgling in blood.
‘But that’s all wrong, Havana,
because that’s your role.
It’s the name I gave you after all.
Havana means sacrifice.’
The throne room’s doors began to open,
the dead king striding into the corridor
with a stern expression.
Cecilia laughed again, giving Havana a wink. ‘Now, it’s time for you to fulfil that role.’
Scribbled Thoughts 