The key was still warm in Marguerite’s hand. When the door opened, she dropped it.
It landed on the cold stone floor between her feet. Something dark had smeared across the metal, catching the candlelight. Red and glistening that appeared to be blood.
Marguerite stared at the key for a moment before looking at the open doorway behind her. She had not intended to open it. All morning, she had told herself she would leave it alone.
Her husband had been very clear.
“You may wander the entire house,” he had told her as he placed the ring of keys in her hand. “You are free to explore every room, every hall, and every garden gate.”
A moment later, he had pointed to the smallest key. “But not that door.”
The key was smaller than the others, black with age and heavier than it looked. She had barely thought about it until she noticed the door at the end of the narrow corridor in the western wing, partly concealed behind a velvet curtain that smelled of dust.
Now the door stood open, and there was a faint sound from inside. Marguerite raised her candle and looked into the darkness. The flame moved in the draft, throwing light across the stone floor and the walls. At first, there was nothing to see, until the light reached a face.
A woman was standing in the darkness, her cheeks wet with tears.
***
The hall was cold despite the fire burning in the hearth. Rain tapped against the shutters while Eloise stood before her father with her hands clasped together.
Lord Lyam glowered at her for several seconds before speaking. “You shame me.”
“I meant no shame, Father.”
“The whole village is talking about you. My daughter seen walking along the road with a miller’s boy like some tavern girl.”
Eloise lowered her eyes. “We only spoke.”
“A nobleman’s daughter does not wander about with peasants in the dark. You forget your place.”
“I only wished to walk. The air in the house—”
“You wished,” he interrupted, “as though your wishes matter.”
She fell silent.
“I feed you and clothe you. I have arranged a marriage that will keep this family secure for another generation, and you repay me by behaving like a child.”
“I did not mean to defy you.”
“Your intentions are irrelevant. A reputation is easily damaged.”
Eloise looked at him beseeching eyes. “Please, Father.”
“You will not leave these grounds without permission. Not the orchard, not the chapel, and not even the gate.”
“Am I to be imprisoned?”
“It is discipline.” He stepped closer.
“You are sixteen years old. In two months, you will marry a man of noble lineage because I have secured the alliance. If you expect him to treat you with any respect, you will learn to behave as a proper daughter before the wedding.”
Tears gathered in Eloise’s eyes, but her father had already turned away.
“Go to your chamber,” he said. “And be thankful your foolishness reached my ears before it reached your future husband’s.” Eloise curtsied and left the hall.
The maids stood quietly along the wall as she entered her room, closed the door, and threw herself onto the bed. She buried her face in the covers and cried.
Eloise hated being the daughter of a nobleman. Her father had kept his word, and she was no longer permitted to leave the castle. With little else to do, she spent much of her time in her room, listening to the servants moving through the corridors. That afternoon, she heard two maids speaking outside her door.
“I spoke to a stable boy who worked there once,” one of them whispered. “He left before harvest and swore he heard crying through the walls at night.”
“How dreadful. And the master intends to marry the miss to that man?”
“Are you willing to defend her?” the other maid asked tartly. “He is a knight, he has money, he owns a great deal of land, and he is very handsome. He is a most desirable bachelor.”
“But didn’t he marry three times?”
The other maid sighed. “I’m not certain of the whole story myself. But there is nothing we can say or do that will change the master’s mind.”
Their voices faded as they walked farther down the corridor, leaving Eloise alone with the question she had been trying not to ask. What sort of man am I going to marry?
A few days later, her father came to her chamber with her lady-in-waiting.
“Lord Conomor will arrive later today to meet his bride,” Lord Lyam said briskly “I expect you to look your best. Rose will help you dress.” He left before Eloise could respond.
That afternoon, she descended the great staircase in a fashionable pink gown and matching slippers, her blonde hair arranged in the latest French style.
A tall, dark-haired man stepped forward when she reached the bottom. His beard was neatly trimmed, although Eloise noticed a faint blue tint in it. He took her hand as she curtsied and kissed it. “Bonjour, mademoiselle. I am Conomor, your fiancé.”
He turned to Lord Lyam with a smile. “She is every bit as lovely as you described. I can hardly wait to take her home.” The two men laughed.
Eloise remembered the servants' conversation. “Father, must I marry him?” she asked timidly. “Could it not be someone else?”
Her father stopped smiling. “Do not behave like a spoiled child in front of your betrothed. The arrangements have been made. You will marry him.”
His tone left no room for further discussion, and Eloise said nothing more that evening while the men celebrated. The wedding followed soon after.
Eloise woke that morning with a heaviness in her chest and damp palms. While Rose washed her hair, she tried to convince herself that she was simply nervous. Rose noticed her discomfort.
“It is only wedding nerves, miss,” Rose reassured her. Eloise nodded, but she did not feel any less anxious. The feeling remained throughout the ceremony, and she found herself taking slow breaths whenever she could do so without being noticed.
By dusk, the guests had begun to leave. After the final farewells, Eloise climbed into Conomor’s waiting coach. As the door closed, she heard a woman's voice behind her.
Let me have a moment, let me say.
Bless this girl before I die; I pray you.
Eloise looked wide-eyed at Conomor. “Did you hear that?”
He was gazing at the road through the window. “Hear what?”
“A woman. It sounded like she was praying.”
Conomor glanced at her. “I heard nothing. It must have been your imagination.”
The whip cracked as the coach began to move. Behind them, Marguerite watched from the castle and whispered a prayer. “Godspeed.”
Conomor's home was far larger than Eloise had expected. The brick fortress stood beside a lake and was surrounded by farmland and tall trees. Several buildings stood within the castle walls, including barracks for the people who worked there. Eloise peered around with astonishment as they approached the entrance. “It is larger than our estate, and my father is a Count!”
Conomor gave a chuckle. “I may serve as a knight, but my official title is Baron. I am also Lord of Brittany, Anjou, and Poitou. I own considerable land across them.”
Eloise peeked at him thoughtfully. No wonder Father wanted this marriage.
Inside, Conomor took her upstairs to a large bedroom with silk bedcovers, velvet curtains, and tall windows overlooking the grounds. “You will sleep here,” he said firmly. “And do not go exploring without my permission.”
“But this is my home now, too.”
“Do as I say.” His voice was sharp enough to make her step back. Conomor noticed her expression and lowered his voice. “I will have your servants attend to you. I shall see you later, Eloise.” He departed.
Eloise remained standing in the middle of the room for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming from her eyes. He did not return, not even for dinner.
That evening, his manservant explained that Conomor was occupied and suggested that Eloise spend the evening with the maids. He did not come to her room either, despite what she had expected on her first night as his wife as tradition dictated.
She looked toward the closed door and groaned, “How is this any different from before?”
A week passed and on one afternoon, Eloise sat by the open window in her room sewing while her maid worked beside her. A cool breeze moved through the room, carrying the scent of the grounds.
Eloise paused and delightedly took a breath when the sunlight suddenly disappeared, and a gust of wind slammed the window shut. A scent of damp earth filled the room. She stood so quickly that her chair skidded across the floor.
“What is the matter, Madam?” the maid questioned in bewilderment.
Eloise pointed at the window. “Did you not see that?”
“See what?”
“The light. It went dark, and the window—” She stopped. The sunlight had returned. Nothing appeared to be wrong with the window, and the room was as it had been before. Eloise stared at it for several seconds.
“Mayhap you should rest, Madam,” the maid soothed. “You have barely slept these past few days.”
Eloise was dumbfounded, but then sighed. “I suppose so. Wake me when it is time for luncheon.”
“As you wish, Madam.”
Eloise went to lie down and closed her eyes to uncertain slumber while the maid quietly left the room. A few minutes later, the door opened. Conomor entered and stood beside the wall, watching his sleeping wife. Since Eloise had arrived, he had heard the gleeful whisper again.
The fourth one.
He looked at the girl sleeping on the bed. She was only sixteen. He wondered how long she would last before he left the room.
Eloise dreamt of endless grey walls and mirrors. No matter how fast she ran, the reflections multiplied, closing her in. Her own terrified face stared back at her again and again. No amount of pounding could shatter the glass, and she remained trapped for years alone, her shrieks echoing against the cold surfaces. As she watched, horrified, her reflection aged while she stayed a child, her terror stretching endlessly. She gasped and sat up, her chest tight. For a moment, she could still see the mirrors from the dream. She pressed her face into the pillow and wiped her eyes before getting out of bed to wash her face. Her maid entered a short while later, smiling brightly. “I have come to wake you, Madam, and I have wonderful news. The master says he will join you for dinner tonight.”
Eloise turned toward her. “Oh.”
She had expected to be pleased, but instead she found herself wishing he had not said anything.
That evening, thunder sounded in the distance as Eloise entered the dining hall for her first meal alone with her husband. She wore a blue gown, and her golden hair had been carefully arranged.
Conomor regarded her admiringly as she took her seat. “Had I not married you, I might have thought you one of the fae.”
Eloise smiled uncertainly. “Was that meant as a compliment?”
He laughed. “How could it not be?”
The servants brought in the food, and Conomor began eating. Roasted meat, fresh bread, and fruit covered the table.
After a moment, he informed her, “I will be leaving tomorrow. I have business at my other estates and expect to be away for a month. You will remain here.”
“May I not come with you? I am your wife.”
“No.” He said it lightly, almost as though the suggestion had amused him.
“You would have little interest in such matters. Besides, you have hardly seen the castle. I will give you something to occupy your time.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a ring of keys. “These will open every door in the castle, as well as the garden gates. You may explore as much as you like.”
Eloise peered curiously at the keys. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere,” he confirmed. Just then he separated one from the others. It was small and black.
“Except this door. You are not to use this key.” Eloise took the ring from him, but her attention remained on the black key.
It was warm. Conomor’s voice faded into the background as she turned it between her fingers. Despite its dark surface, she noticed several tiny red marks along the metal.
Lightning flashed outside, snapping Eloise back to the present. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Conomor watched her for a moment. “I said you should not wander the grounds alone. When I return, perhaps we can visit some of the villages together.”
Her expression brightened. “I would like that.”
“Then you must be careful while I am away.”
“I hope you will be careful too.”
He chuckled in amusement. “So, you are concerned about me now?”
Eloise laughed softly, but for an instant she thought she saw something change in his eyes. The next flash of lightning illuminated his face, and there was nothing unusual about it.
Was I seeing things?
Rain began falling heavily as dessert was served. Eloise looked at the mango and dragon fruit on her plate but barely touched them. She found herself wondering who she had married.
The following morning, she stood with the servants as Conomor prepared to leave. He gave her a brief look before climbing into the coach. Eloise waited until he had gone, then returned to her room. The keys were on the dresser as she picked them up with eager hands.
I promised nothing, she reminded herself. Conomor had simply told me not to use one of them.
After a moment, she nodded to herself and left the room. She began with the ordinary doors.
The first opened into a study filled with old scrolls and leather-bound books. A lion's skin covered part of the floor, and a large desk stood beneath the window. Eloise opened the drawers one by one but found nothing unusual. The next rooms were much the same. A storage room, a sitting room, an unused bedroom. She began to wonder why so many of them had been locked in the first place. As she continued through the castle, she heard two servants laughing somewhere behind her. She ignored them and climbed another staircase. The next door opened into a library.
Eloise stopped, her heart pounding. Books filled almost every wall, and she immediately forgot about the servants. She had always liked libraries, and her father had often kept important papers among his books. She began searching.
She looked through the shelves, checked the desks, and knelt beside several chairs. Eventually, she noticed a plain book tucked beneath one of them. She pulled it out and opened it.
Three small portraits had been painted on the first pages.
Eloise leaned closer. “Ambre,” she read. “Juliette... and Marguerite.”
The women were young and beautifully dressed. Eloise studied the portraits. “Were these his other wives?” She studied the women more closely. “They look so young.”
She closed the book halfway. “What happened to them?”
She knew Conomor had been married before, but she had always assumed the marriages had simply ended. Now she was not so sure.
She resumed searching, but an uneasy feeling began to settle over her. The room seemed to grow colder, and before long she was rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself. Eloise stood still for a moment, listening to the silence around her, until the discomfort became too much and she hurried out of the library. Whatever had been watching her remained behind.
There was still the West Wing to explore, but it was already lunchtime, and after missing breakfast, Eloise realized she was starving. Still thinking about the strange feeling in the library, she made her way toward the dining hall and sat down at the table, where several beautifully prepared dishes had already been laid out.
“Why did I even think that?” she murmured to herself. “Conomor doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would murder his wives. I’m simply overthinking.”
Having convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about, she relaxed and began to eat. By the time she finished, the afternoon had already begun, and she made her way toward the West Wing. The servants working there grew visibly uneasy as she opened the doors one after another, although none of them attempted to stop her.
Some of the rooms were empty, with bare grey walls and little more than a few pieces of furniture inside, while others were used for storage and were crowded with chests, old furniture, and forgotten belongings.
Her mouth fell open when she pushed open one particular door and saw what looked unmistakably like a torture chamber. Before she could step inside, a servant hurried forward and slammed the door shut. “Master never used it,” he muttered quickly.
Eloise stared at him for a moment, hoping he was telling the truth. The portraits of Conomor’s previous wives were still fresh in her mind, and she shivered as she looked at the closed door.
For a moment, she wished she could simply go home, but she knew her father would only send her back.
Ultimately, she reached the final door. It was hidden behind a velvet curtain, and a strange odor lingered in the air around it. Eloise looked down at the small black key in her hand and, almost without thinking, slid it into the lock. As she began to turn it, a voice whispered in her ear.
The warning.
Eloise froze. Her husband had clearly warned her never to open this door, and she slowly began pulling the key back out of the lock. Suddenly the wind shifted, bringing with it a sudden coldness, and before she could stop herself, she turned the key. The lock clicked open.
Eloise swallowed nervously. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to… I only opened it.”
She turned around, hoping that one of the servants might still be nearby, but the corridor was empty. The iron door creaked open, and Eloise stepped backward, still holding the key. It felt strangely warm in her hand, almost as though it had been heated, and when she looked down at it, she again noticed several dark stains across the metal. Only now they appeared to be fresh and wet, like blood stains. She dropped the keys in shock.
Her attention returned to the darkness beyond the doorway when she saw something move inside. Instinctively, she reached for the door, intending to close it again, but something suddenly shoved her from behind.
Eloise cried out as she fell forward, striking the cold stone floor with her face and shoulders. Before she could comprehend her surroundings, the door slammed shut behind her with a deafening clang. Eloise! Get up!
The voice echoed through the darkness. She had no idea where it had come from, but she forced herself to obey. Dizzy and disoriented, she pushed herself to her feet and waited until the room stopped spinning. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she slowly began to make out what was in front of her. Eloise screamed.
***
Conomor sat comfortably in his chair, watching the birds drift lazily across the sky as he took a long drink from his glass of beer.
“She must be opening the forbidden door by now,” he murmured. “No matter how hard they try to resist, he always pulls them toward that room. Such lust for beauty.”
He took another drink and leaned back, already considering which girl he might choose as his next wife.
***
Eloise’s knees nearly buckled as she stared at the scene before her. Three enormous mirrors stood directly in front of her, their glass surfaces spotless and polished to a perfect shine. They did not reflect the room, however. Instead, each one showed a woman trapped within it. Blood dripped across the edges and pooled onto the floor.
Eloise recognized them immediately. The blonde woman with blue eyes was Ambre, the dark-haired woman with brown eyes was Juliette, and the third, with curly flaxen hair and gentle brown eyes, was Marguerite. They were prisoners inside the mirrors.
Ambre and Juliette sat on the ground with empty expressions, their faces showing little emotion. Marguerite, however, stared directly at Eloise, her expression filled with urgency.
Run! You must get out of here!
Eloise blinked, too stunned to move. Marguerite repeated herself until, at last, Eloise managed to pull herself together. “How?” Eloise cried. “You… that’s impossible!”
Now is not the time. Run!
Hearing the fear in Marguerite’s voice, Eloise turned and rushed toward the door, but she collided with something invisible and stumbled backward.
“Ow!” she gasped, clutching her forehead. She reached out in front of her and felt nothing, yet there was something solid blocking her path. “I can’t. Something’s blocking the way.”
Marguerite’s expression changed, and the urgency in her face gave way to sadness.
It’s too late, her voice filled with sorrow. I’m sorry.
Eloise did not understand. She began pounding against the unseen barrier, calling for help and shouting for the servants, but no one answered. She continued until her throat was raw, and when it became clear that nobody was coming, she sank to the cold floor and began to sob.
“Am I… inside a mirror now too?” she asked weakly.
“I’m afraid so,” Marguerite replied. Eloise wiped her tears and looked at the three women trapped around her.
“What will happen now?”
Marguerite looked away. “Now Conomor will simply find another unfortunate girl to marry.”
Eloise struck the invisible barrier again. “Why?” she cried. “Why must we be imprisoned in mirrors like this?”
Marguerite sighed. “I don’t know.”
***
A month later, Conomor returned to his fortress. Only the head butler and head housekeeper were waiting to greet him, while his young blonde wife was nowhere to be seen.
“Is Eloise too busy to welcome her husband home?” he asked lightly.
The two servants exchanged a glance before shaking their heads. “She has gone missing,” the housekeeper replied.
Conomor raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “My, my, another one. I seem to have dreadful luck with women.” He gave a small sigh. “Am I truly such a terrible husband that none of them wish to stay?”
The servants remained perfectly stoic. “No, sir,” they answered.
“Well then,” Conomor said with a casual shrug, “I suppose I shall simply have to find someone else.”
He turned toward the butler. “Do some research. See if you can find a suitable young woman.”
After dismissing them, Conomor made his way toward the West Wing and stopped before the forbidden door. The velvet curtain moved slightly in the draft, and the bunch of keys lay abandoned on the floor. He picked them up and slid the black key into the lock. Before opening the door, he paused as a familiar scent reached him, something that reminded him of damp earth and a place he had not visited in many years.
“Well, Grandfather?” he asked quietly into the darkness. “Are you satisfied yet?”
There was no answer. A cold gust of wind swept past him, pushing the door open.
“Not yet, then?” he murmured. Conomor stepped inside, where he was immediately met by the shrill, desperate cries of the women trapped within.
“Why?” Eloise’s voice rang out from one of the mirrors. “Why did you imprison us?”
For a fleeting moment, Conomor felt sorry for her, but he pushed the feeling aside and looked toward the mirrors. “You are not the only prisoner here,” he said with a tired voice.
Somewhere deeper within the fortress, cruel laughter echoed through the darkness. Conomor glanced once more at the mirrors before turning away. Four women now stared back at him.
Slowly, Eloise’s expression began to resemble the others as blood droplets began to run down from her mirror.
THE END