The Taste of Knowledge

Chapter 172

The silence stretched for only a moment before Sarah's knuckles rapped against the wood once more, firmer this time, insistent. The sound solidified Freya's unease. Aware of Sarah's ties to Amelia, Freya cautiously approached the door, keeping to shadows. “Sarah,” she called out, her voice calm.

“Lady Freya,” Sarah replied, respectful but less patient. “May I come in to deliver the message?” Her request was polite, seemingly innocent, masking Freya's reluctance.

Freya opened the door just wide enough for Sarah to enter, shielding herself from sunlight. Sarah’s gaze swept the dimly lit shop. In the back room, Myra’s heart pounded, every sound amplifying her apprehension for Freya.

“Lady Freya, it is good to see you,” Sarah said, her voice polite, her gaze steady. “Lady Amelia sends her regards and wishes to know when she might expect your return to the estate. She has been… anticipating your arrival.” Sarah’s words, carefully chosen, were an innocent inquiry with underlying expectation.

Sarah’s gaze drifted around the shop, a faint smile on her lips. “I shall relay your greetings to Lady Amelia, Lady Freya,” she said smoothly.

Freya, calm, responded, “Please inform Lady Amelia that I require more time before my return. I will be in touch when I am ready.”

“Very well, Lady Freya,” Sarah replied, nodding curtly before exiting, the door closing softly.

Freya hurried back to her chamber, her expression uneasy like Myra’s. Seeing Myra’s deep worry, Freya gently touched her cheek and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to her lips. “Don’t worry, my love,” she murmured softly. “We will figure this out.”

Myra looked at Freya, apprehensive, picturing her facing Amelia alone. “So… you’re going back… to her?”

Freya held Myra’s gaze, determined and loving. “I must pay her a visit, Myra,” she said firmly, “if I want to stay here… with you. Running has been my life for too long. This antique shop… it has become my home now, because you are here. And I won’t lose that again. It will not be immediately. Sarah’s visit buys us some time, a few days at least, before Amelia's impatience truly grows. And when I go, it will be brief. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity and then I will return straight back here, to you."

“I will tell Amelia that I am returning to visit my parents’ graves,” Freya explained, her voice laced with a careful resolve. “It is a plausible reason for my prolonged absence, one she will likely accept without too much scrutiny, for now. But I must make an appearance, Myra. If I don’t, Amelia will grow suspicious, her inquiries will become more direct, and I fear what she might do… not just to our home, but specifically to you, if she perceives you as the reason for my defiance.” A shadow of worry flickered in her crimson eyes.

Freya kissed Myra's forehead. “I will come back to you, Myra,” she murmured, her voice a heartfelt promise. “I swear it. This is just a temporary measure, a necessary step to protect what we have.”

“I’m afraid, Freya,” Myra confessed softly, her voice laced with worry. “I’m afraid Amelia will hurt you.”

Freya gently cupped Myra’s cheek. “She won’t, my love,” she said with surprising certainty. “Amelia’s pride is her greatest weakness. Harming me directly would be… beneath her, in her own twisted way. She prefers control, manipulation. I will be careful, I promise you.”

Myra remained deeply worried for Freya’s safety. Though believing Freya’s assessment of Amelia’s pride, the thought of Freya in that gilded cage, vulnerable to Amelia's manipulations, was terrifying.

Freya saw Myra’s fear, the tremor in her hands. With a soft sigh, she pulled Myra into a close hug, resting her chin atop Myra’s head. “My brave, sweet Myra,” she murmured, her voice a low thrum against Myra’s hair. “I know you are frightened for me. It is natural, knowing what Amelia is capable of inflicting, what she represents to my past.”

She held Myra, her calm seeping into Myra’s warmth. Myra's scent, like wild flowers, anchored Freya, a reminder of the love she fought to protect, contrasting with Amelia’s cold world. Drawing back, she kept her hands on Myra’s shoulders, her crimson eyes holding Myra’s intensely.

“Amelia believes she understands me,” Freya continued, her voice softer, thoughtful. “She believes she knows my limits, my breaking points. And in many ways, for a very long time, she did. But things are different now. I am different, because of you.” Freya’s gaze flickered to a shadowed corner. “Let me show you something, Myra. It might help you understand Amelia’s mind, and my resolve.”

Freya led Myra to an alcove. On a pedestal stood a birdcage: beautiful, unsettling, dark polished wood, silver wirework bars, carved thorns and roses, but utterly without a door—a sealed, elegant prison.

“This,” Freya said, her voice a low murmur, gently touching the wood, “was a gift from Amelia, many years ago. Long after my… transformation.” Myra stared at it, her brow furrowed. “A cage with no door?” she whispered, tracing the unyielding silver wires. “But… why? What good is a cage if you cannot put something in, or take something out?”

A faint, melancholic smile touched Freya’s lips. “Ah, but that is Amelia’s particular brand of cruelty, her twisted way of showing affection, or perhaps, possession,” Freya explained, her gaze fixed on the object. She paused, then added softly, her voice laced with deep, old sorrow, “This cage, Myra, it represents my heart. Or rather, how Amelia wished it to be. Sealed. Untouchable. She didn't want anyone else to get close, to see what was truly inside. So, no gate, no entry for another.” Freya’s crimson eyes met Myra’s, a profound understanding passing between them. “She believed she was the only one who could truly know it, control it. She thought it impenetrable from the outside.”

Freya gently ran a finger along a silver bar. “She meant it as a symbol for me, of course. A beautiful, inescapable confinement, a reminder that I was hers, that my affections were to be solely for her, locked away from the world. She saw herself as the sole keeper of my heart.”

Freya’s voice was devoid of bitterness now, replaced by a weary understanding. “For a long time, Myra, I believed it too. I believed my heart was this sealed thing, incapable of truly opening to another.” She looked at Myra then, deep, unwavering love in her eyes, a gentle wonder in her voice. “And yet, somehow, my dearest Myra, without any door, without any visible way in… you found a way. You broke through. You reached the heart Amelia tried so desperately to keep locked away from everyone, even from myself.”

"Oh, Freya," Myra whispered, her voice thick with emotion, instinctively lacing their fingers together. "To think… Amelia would do such a thing to you. To represent your heart as… as a prison, locked away from everyone." She shook her head slowly, her gaze filled with sorrow for Freya’s isolation. "How could she believe that was love?"

Freya saw Myra's empathy and sorrow, felt her hand tremble. A sad smile touched Freya's lips as she returned the pressure. "Amelia's ways… they were often intricate, Myra," she said softly, her voice low. "Love, control, possession… the lines blurred for her over the centuries."

She glanced at their intertwined hands, then at Myra’s concerned face. "It is a complicated story, woven through lifetimes," Freya continued, gently stroking Myra's knuckles. "Far too much darkness to burden your bright spirit with all at once." She saw the distress the cage's meaning caused Myra.

Freya rested her forehead against Myra's, the touch intimate and calming. "Enough darkness for tonight, my heart," she whispered, meant only for Myra. "I see this troubles you deeply, and I do not wish to add more weight to your mind before you leave." She drew back, her eyes soft with reassurance. "Tomorrow," she promised softly but firmly, "when the new day offers fresh perspective, I will tell you more. Whatever you wish to know. But for tonight, let us put Amelia and her cages away. Let us just be… us."

Myra met Freya's gaze, understood, and nodded with a soft sigh. "Alright, Freya," she agreed, her voice gentle with trust. "Tomorrow." She leaned in, her kiss tender and accepting, a silent promise to focus on their bond. "Just us," Myra whispered against Freya's lips, sealing their agreement.