Traitor.

Bastard.

Liar.

These words repeated in my head like an obsessive chant, along with many others not appropiate for the use of a proper lady. I wished desperately to say them out loud, but my rage had not yet escalated to that point; I was not angry enough to disgrace my family and be kicked out of Spence because of the filthy heathen.

His face was in my mind, as usual, but now I fantasized about marring his deceptively beautiful face with my bare hands. I would not need a weapon.

This idea pleased me greatly, though he was strong enough that I would be overcome by the time I got one satisfying punch in. I'd heard that love could sometimes lend a person uncanny strength, but something told me that it did not excatly work that way with hate. Actually, hate was not a strong enough word for what I was feeling. I was blind with rage, my reasons almost forgotten.

Clenching my hands tightly at my sides, I stomped alongside Felicity to some class or other. We had just finished breakfast, and I recalled that today art was to be our first subject. Mrs. Nightwing wanted us to meet out new teacher, Mrs. Braun, as soon as possible.

Her name seemed awfully plain, and I could clearly imagine Ann taking on such a surname and becoming even more dull, if that was possible. Perhaps she and Mrs. Braun would become friends. Yeah, right.

They would shy around eachother like mice, if indeed they were of the same personality. If not, Mrs. Braun would treat Ann as every other teacher did: with disdain and cruelty. My wicked smile at the thought of Ann and her soulmate disappeared as I adminoshed myself for being so beastly, even if it was just in my mind. Ann deserved some compassion, and it seemed that I was the only person able to give it to her, Felicity being the fox-hearted witch that she was. The witch in question glanced at my with an amused expression that irked me greatly.

As if she was wise.

As if she knew what I was thinking, and thought it funny.

As if she was an experienced woman laughing at the antics of a young girl.

"What?" I snapped, feeling that I would greatly enjoy ripping her perfect, blonde hair off of her scalp. Bad Gemma.

She only widened her eyes in fake innocence, then spoke in a matching tone.

"Whatever has gotten into you, Gemma dear?"

I snorted and dismissed her, suddenly craving the freedom of Spring Holiday that would free me from my arogant friend. Mrs. Nightwing was taking mercy on us, it seemed, and we were to be sent home right after the noon meal to our various families. I had only a few classes between me and disinprisonment.

Ann stumbled up on my other side, looking lost, as usual. She said nothing, just aimed her head at the smooth stone floor and filed after us into our classroom.

I shoved past Felicity and took a seat at the back, giving her the cold shoulder as she sat down beside me, pretending to examine her empty canvas. My eyes furiously roamed the room, looking at anything but everything, it seemed. I wished not to look at the girls, or out of the large, luxurious window that faced the heart-breaking forest. Finally I fixed my burning gaze on my hands, clasped tightly in my lap.

The door opened smoothly, and my head swiveled to stare at the woman that had entered, her expensive shoes clacking on the hard floors. Every girl scrutinized her, examining every inch of her strange form, from the beautifully painted clip in her red-blond hair to her strange clothes. Her dress bagged and hung in all the wrong places, yet it did not look all that bad.

She looked a bit frightened, especially when her eyes landed on me and Felicity, glaring at her sharply; Felicity because she was terrible, and me because I was in a dreadful mood.

She seemed much more frightened of me though, and I saw that she was not the kind of woman that was easily intimidated, but knew enough to tell that I was murderously angry at someone, and had already decided to stay out of my way until I cooled down. After taking us in, she smiled and made her way to the front, carrying with her a small canvas and set of paints. In the crook of her arm a delicate brush lay.

She set all this up at the front, and turned to us, the orange fabric of her dress swishing. It settled as she spoke, and I watched until it stilled, catching only the end of her speech.

"...think that for today I'll have you doing some abstract. Just paint or sketch whatever is in your heart; this should be a good way for me to get to know you, as well."

Her voice was even, and she finished with a little smile that nobody returned. Standing from my stool and walking slowly to the front of the room, I picked out a particularilly dark set of colours and brought them back, immediately drenching my brush in a rather haunting green. As I began to paint, Mrs. Braun walked by and appraised my colour choice carefully.

"An interest set of colours you have there, Miss..."

I did not answer her for a moment, then broke the awkward silence with a curt reply.

"Gemma Doyle."

She nodded and said something about being interested in seeing what my painting turned out like and moved on, commenting on Ann's sketch with encouragement; maybe the two would be friends.

This went on while I tuned myself out of life, focusing on the dreadful motives that fueled my painting. A few times I sense Mrs. Bruin standing behind me, and imagined her plain face twisted slightly in a look of concern that I knew she wore. Any sensible person would, glancing at my gruesome scene. Finally I finished, adding a splash of crimson before sitting back and admiring my work.

It was ghastly.

I'd never been more proud.

Many shades of forest green blended in the background, portraying a dark and foreboding forest. In the shadows a shape lingered, the outline of a shapely woman, standing eerily out of clear sight. Only her arms could be seen, pale and ghostly in the moonlight, which filtered through the foliage. they were withdrawing, still curved ever so slightly as if they had been around someone.

Another person was in the painting, falling through the air with loose limbs. Blood drenched the back of his shirt, and was splattered visibly on the grass surrounding the strange pair. They were still close, and when one noticed the bloody knife in the woman's hands it was obvious what had happened.

The man's eyes could not be seen, but the hair was dark, curls invisible in the choking blackness. He was falling backwards, away from his killer. Everything was unrealistically dark; even the blood that tainted nearly everything in the picture was a darker and richer red than blood should be. Only the woman's eyes shone through the gloomy film, brighter than even the stars.

High above, a full moon shone down on them. In it's swirls and craters of colour a smiling face could be discerned.

Felicity gasped and giggled as she took all this in, and girls started to turn and gape at my creation, pulling at others to look upon it as well. Finally Mrs. Braun drifted over, her dainty hands covering her mouth in shock before she collected herself.

She looked at my satisfied grin with confusion and said haltingly, "Miss Doyle... dear, what... inspired you to paint something like th-this?"

I could see that she had trouble think of a word, and simply shrugged, eyes still fixed on it.

"I couldn't really say, Mrs. Braun." She shook her head and looked around, as if making sure that no other girl had picked up on my ideas. Luckily for her, every other girl had drawn a blooming meadow or a simply plain landscape.

She gazed at me once more, puzzled. Then, a most unexpected sentence came out of her mouth:

"Well done, Miss Doyle."

Ann stared longingly at me as I packed my bags, looking like a lost puppy begging not to be ignored.

"I'll be back in a couple of weeks, Ann."

She did not answer, just adjusted her expression slightly, as if embarrassed that her jealously and sadness had been so noticable.

"Will you see Tom much?" she asked suddenly, staring at the floor. I wanted horribly to tell her that my brother was a lost hope, but as usual, I was to much of a ninny.

"I should think not. He will most likely be trying to seduce senile old women at the mental hospital."

Ann giggled freely, finding the joke amusing even though it was aimed at her dream husband. She quieted as Felicity swept into the room, knocking into me with a exaggerated embrace.

"I've come to say good-bye; my carriage is due any minute now."

I did not hug her back, only answered robotically, "Bye, Fee."

She looked hurt, but I was sure it was just an act. Then she glanced at Ann with disdain and sniffed, turning smartly on her heel and leaving us as abruptly as she had come. I returned to packing and shoved the last of my dresses into an already full bag.

Just then, Bridget peeked into the room, bowing her head in my direction.

"Yer ride is 'ere, Missus."

I nodded at her and smiled. "Thank you, Bridget."

Then I looked at Ann, who seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Good-bye Ann. I shall see you soon."

I walked to her and wrapped my arms around her cold, plump body, feeling somewhat gratified when she returned the gesture awkwardly.

"Take care." I whispered, and then handed my bags to Bridget and left her, hurrying to meet my carriage at the front door. I didn't bother to wait for someone to open the door for me; I was so eager to escape the the cold stone temple of heartbreak and scandal that I nearly ran to the carriage, drawing a condecending look from the carriage driver.

He helped me in and I buzzed around impatiently while he took my bags from Bridget and spoke to the horses, setting them clopping along the narrow road, away from Spence.

It did not surprise me that I was alone in the carriage; my family was probably shunning me as a result of my refusal to marry Simon.

Well, I decided, they're just going to have to put up with me. I'm in love wi-

I blinked as Irealized that that sentence was no longer appropiate. Kartik had lied to me, I did not love him. I was a free woman, prefectly ready to start my season with a bang. Simon was more than worthy to be my first sutior, if he would take me back.

Of course he would; I was the irresistable Miss Gemma Doyle. I smiled at the title, though Kartik's betrayal made it untrue. Well, I would show that bastard that I was not totally love sick for him. He would beg me for forgiveness, and I would refuse him.

These forbidden schemes were brewing quite nicely when I arrived at the train station. Allowing the carriage driver to assist me, I headed towards my train with him in tow, carrying my bags and a sour expression. It did not take me long to settle in, and soon I was sitting back in a plush and comforable seat, watching the train fill with rich couples and lone girls like myself.

We chugged gradually into motion, picking up speed until the scenery whisked by, blurred by speed. I think that I fell asleep, for when my eyes opened a train worker was shaking my shoulder.

"We've arrived, Miss."

I nodded and thanked him, suddenly longing for my own bed. My back was stiff from the seat, and I moaned as it stretched in discomfort at my movement. Filing out of he train with other tired passengers, I waited at the assigned spot for my brother to pick me up.

Unlike last time, my contempuous brother arrived on time, taking my arm with a simple greeting and letting somebody else worry about my baggage. He was silent for a moment, then spoke without a glance at me.

"So, sister, have you been made into a proper lady yet, or shall we buy you a permanent residence at Spence's respectable Academy?"

I snorted and climbed into a taxi with him, snapping back with a quick retort.

"Funny, I've been thinking that you should look into an apartment for yourself, Tom. I'm sure a lady such as yourself would find the accommadations quite pleasing."

He turned red and did not answer, opting to ignore me for the rest of the ride. A question burned in my mind, but I did not wish to speak first.

Worry won over.

"How's Father?"

Tom straightened, glancing in the cab driver's direction before answering, "His flu has receded somewhat. The doctor says that he shall pull out of it in a matter of weeks."

I nodded, knowing that this was all for the sake of the cab driver, who could not hear us anyway. What he meant was that Father had not had his lunduam for some time now, and that if it continued, he could still pull out.

Hope once again flared up, and this time it burned lowly for as long as I could allow.

Something tapped the window. I lay still, fairly sure of who it was. I would not speak to him.

A larger rock bouced off the window, loudly enough to rouse someone in another room.

What was he thinking? My whole house could wake up! Still I relented from going to the window, until what sounded like a boulder hit the glass with a crack. I shot up, angrily rushing to the window and checking for cracks. Luckily, it was untarnished.

Sliding the frame upwards, I leant out of the window just in time for a good sized pebble to hit me smack in the forehead. I gasped and held my stinging head, swearing into the open air.

"What?" I hissed venomously, now even angrier then before.

"Gemma? Why didn't you say good-bye?"

His voice rose out of the inky blackness, igniting rage in my stomach.

"Kartik, don't play innocent." He did not answer. "I saw her. I know your mission. Just stop pretending."

Another silence followed and I began to wonder if he had simply left me to have a conversation with the cool, night air.

"Gemma? What are you talking about?" the questin was sudden, and he sounded genuinely confused, though I knew that it was just an act.

My blood boiled and I wished that he was close enough for my arm to swing out and strike him down. I pulled angrily back into the room and shut the window firmly, flopping into bed in a huff.

Why couldn't he just admit it and say he was sorry, or admit it and say what I already knew: that he did not love me.

I wanted to cry again, but swallowed hard and denied myself the luxury. If I was going to make him pay, I had to forget my own feelings, and focus on his. A plan already formed in my head; I would court Simon, and any other gentleman that came my way. I would make Kartik lust for me like he always said that he did. Reluctantly rising from bed, I walked to the calendar that hung by my door and checked the date to make sure. Moonlight illuminated the smooth paper and targeted a scribble of writing that I had hastily added before settling down to sleep.

Dinner party at Middleton's
Four-thirty sharp
Buy dress

The date was set for the day after morrow, leaving me just enough time to find a suitable dress. Grandmama had insisted that I buy a new one, to make a second debut and please the rich family.

She really thought that the latest fashions of spring would bring a broken engagement to life.

If everything went as planned, I could do it with no clothing at all.

Simon Middleton paced through the dining room frantically, reliving his every moment with Gemma Doyle. So far he had spent a useless half hour trying to figure out how to act around the mysterious girl. And after all that, his only conclusion was: she's totally unpredictable.

The upcoming dinner party had been announced a few days ago, but he was still scrambling to find the right words of apology for Gemma. Her taunting green eyes and fiery locks always played an important part in his dreams, and now he could witness her in person; pure, untainted Gemma.

Then again, he would not put it past the bold maiden to taint herself carelessly before being married. Though hopefully, the only way that that would happen would be through him. He scolded himself for thinking of such things, and fought to keep his body from reacting too obviously to the carnal fantasies. They were exactly what had driven he and Gemma apart in the first place.

At least, he hoped that that was the only reason. Simon scowled at the thought of Gemma having thoughts of another man.

But how could she? He was all that every English girl wanted, was he not? Rich, handsome, witty; he had it all, and Gemma had no reason to refuse that.

Not twice.

He grew even more confident with every passeding second until a knock at the door came and sent his ego plummeting once again. Trying to look nonchalant, he opened the door and faced the Doyle's. First came Mrs. Doyle, Gemma's rather controlling grandmother. Holding her arm was Gemma's father, looking quite recovered from his sudden sickness.

Tom swept into the house, pompous and proud, taking no heed of younger sister, who floated in behind him, taking Simon's breath away. Lady Denby had arrived, and channelled the guests into the sitting room for tea, sweeping Gemma away from his longing eyes. She only looked at him once, a naughty glance that accompanied a soft brush against his chest as she walked gracefully by. Simon shivered wih anticipation.

It seemed that pleading for forgiveness would be unneccessary after all. Following close behind into the plush, furnished room, Simon took a seat beside her as a maid dutifully poured tea, carefully avoiding notice.

Gemma stiffened for a moment then forcefully relaxed; perhaps she was not as happy to see him as he was to set eyes on her, in her breath-taking rose dress, tailored perfectly to her body, raising her firm breasts teasingly up at him. An elegant necklace fell about her neck, sparkling in the warm light. The reddish coloured pearls matched her earings, and altogether the pallet made her pale skin appear earthy and flushed.

Her freckles were beautifully sprinkled across an accented nose, spicing her features with colour and diversity from other girls that he had courted.

She glanced shyly at him, then smiled descreetlywhen nobody was looking. He returned he gesture, looking up from her spell-binding image just in time to hear his mother suggest that they remain in the sitting room while the party moved on. Simon nodded and smiled at the guests, trying to look trustworthy as he silently reassured her grandmother. Everyone slowly filed out, admiring large meaningless paintings as they went.

Gemma looked nervous for a moment, then the expression was exchanged for a dazzling smile.

"You look well, Mr. Middleton."

He smiled back at her and replied curteously, "Not nearly as breath-taking as you, Miss Doyle."

Her complexion reddened and he smiled wider, finding that he quite enjoyed it when she looked sheepishly at him with those bashful eyes.

"I hope that you will forgive me for my disgraceful behaviour, Mr. Middleton, it was quite inexcusable."

Simon wanted to scream at the formality, but he only shrugged playfully and answered, "I cannot seem to recall you doing anything that was not extremely attractive, Miss Doyle."

Just as her flaming face had cool down, it roared up again, making him laugh.

"Would you like to view my mother's new vase, Miss Doyle? I am quite assured that you would like it."

The wild beauty nodded and took his arm as he stood, letting the tall man guide her to a seperate room, further from the guests. She could suddenly sense Kartik's eyes on her through the large window, and cursed her father for hiring the man twice, thinking him a close relative in his previous stupour.

Suddenly a wild idea crashed into her head and she acted upon it rashly, pressing close to Simon and leaning on his strong frame. He did not comment, but supported her like a gentleman to a elegantly carved table, where an absoulutely dreadful vase stood among china bowls and other treasures, holding a set of brilliant lily's, purple and rose.

I murmured a compliement and watched as he reached to it and plucked a lightly painted looking violet flower from it, presenting it to me in a royal manner. I pretended to fawn over it, and hated myself for stooping to such a level. However, a glance out the window reminded me of the objective, and I accepted the gift as he entwined it carefully in my locks.

His heat was all around me, and I threw him a flirtatious glance, copied from none other than the dangerous Felicity Worthington. He took my hand gently, and I leaned even further into him, until my chest almost brushed his. I saw him swallow, and then in a sudden burst of madness I kissed him, slowly working my arms around his neck and opening my mouth to allow him access.

His tongue dance clumsily with mine, and I felt a mild flash of scorn at his inexperience. His hands were placed firmly on my hips, keeping my body pressed to his. Heat rose off of us in waves, and finally he broke the kiss, looking me up and down before stepping away.

"Gemma wha-"

I silenced him with a wave of my hand, noting how he had switched back to my first name.

"I am sorry. I just wanted to apologize properly for being so stubborn that night."

He looked at me with hunger, and I recognized lust creepng into his features like an uninvited beast. Was this what Kartik had meant when he said that Simon looked at me like a ripe piece of fruit?

"That's quite alright. I daresay that I enjoyed it thoroughly. In fact, I wouldn't mind another apology," he said with a wink.

I smirked back at him, and began to answer, when a earsplitting crash came from the window, and I looked just in time to notice Kartik slipping out of view, skillfully fleeing back to the carriage.

A rather large stone had landed with a thud on the expensive flooring. A small sound of surprise and terror escaped my lips before I could rein it in. Then I kepy my mouth shut tight and simply focused on looking like a proper lady should when assalted from afar.

Simon, however, looked frightened and confused as well. He was staring at the large, noticable imperfection in the glass; Kartik's arm was strong enough to put a round hole in the window. Luckily, the whole window had not shattered.

Lord Denby popped into the room, his face taking on an angered expression as he took in the ruined glass.

"What has happened here?"

I had already decided that our kiss was being changed to a pleasant chat when the story was retold, and immediately launched into the lie. The red-faced gentleman grew calmer as I innocently explained that we'd merely been discussing the pity of all the slums in London when the rock had come flying at the window for no apparent reason.

He didn't look the least bit skeptical, and even pulled a sympathetic face by the time I was done. Luckily he failed to notice the flower tucked into my hair, which wasn't a surprise seeing as Simon had picked a shade that complimented my dress greatly, causing the flower to appear as a mere accessory.

Grandmama and Lady Denby swept into the room, though the effect was much more graceful on Simon's beautifully cold mother. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she saw the damage, then flicked immediatley to Simon and I, as if assuring herself that we looked shocked and guiltless enough.

"What is this?" she asked tautly, her voice stretched and tense.

I simply continued to look confused and (hopefully) unknowing as Lord Denby explained to his wife and my suspicious looking grandmother what I'd told him.

Tom entered, his face draining quickly as soon as he'd registered the situation. His lips were pressed together in a line as he turned his accusing gaze to me, but I deflected the glare and stole another glance out the window, noticing that the scene looked absolutely serene despite the heathen who had been lurking in the tailored greenery only seconds before.

Kartik's POV

I brought the horses to a stop, reining them in softly in front the the Muddleton's little hut. In reality, it was the largest establishment that I had ever seen, but jealousy over-ruled that fact and I tried not so make a sour face as Gemma and her family left the carriage and made their way to the doorstep.

Mrs. Doyle rapped promptly on the door with a great golden knocker and waited, fiddling with her dress until none other than Mr. Simon Muddleton answered the door. I watched from a distance, scowling at the hunger in his gaze that flamed up as he looked at Gemma, who obviously still held his favour though she had refused him.

The door shut firmly behind the Doyle's and I sighed, trying not to think of Gemma and her unreasonable behaviour. Her accusations were complete nonsense, but I had to apologize if she was ever going to forgive me.

Patting the horses's necks softly I left them, sure that they would be there when I got back. During my previous employment at the Doyle house I'd snuck them extra oats on the cold nights; they had become rather attached to me.

Following the progress of the party throughout the house, I observed with silent rage as Gemma amd Simon were left in the same room. My eyes widened as I notcied Gemma moving gradually closer to the unsuspecting fop, her gait inviting.

What is she doing? Gemma is no whore!

Then her jade eyes took on an all too familiar look, one of lust and fiery softness. Simon was eyeing her in a most horrible way, and I could nearly see the vivid fantasies that were going on in his head right then. Well, I could, seeing as I had experienced them.

Backing up into the wall of ferns, I lurked in the greenery as Gemma brought her lips to his, pressing unneccissarily close to his body. Had they even exchanged any words before initiating the kiss?

Of course they had, but I had been too focused on what she was going to do that I hadn't seen her present actions.

I noticed a beautiful flower in her hair, staying put even through their intense movements. My eyes narrowed as I recognized the flower as part of a horrible bouquet on the table. What a cliche.

However, Gemma didn't seem to think so.

Jealousy rose like poison in my veins, giving my gut a sour feeling that I knew was pathetic and bitter, but couldn't control. Before I realized what I was doing, my calloused hands had found a palm-fitting stone and my eyes were measuring the distance between my hiding spot and the large, expensive looking window. Not a sliver of doubt was in my mind as I rocked back and slung the heavy object forward, nearly stumbling to my knees with the momentum.

My arm smarted slightly with the strain, but a smile of satisfaction still reached my lips as it hit the glass with a crack. But the foolish grin vanished as I saw the large and spreading mark, along with the hole that the rock had made. Had I really thrown it that hard?

It was to late to take back now, and I pushed myself back into the bushes just as both their heads whipped around, their bodies magically separating at the same time. I swear that Gemma's pleasantly startled eyes landed on me for a moment, but then she was consumed by the frenzy of the Lord and Lady Denby, fluttering around in a panic.

Wondering if Gemma would possibly tell the rich snobs who had thrown the stone, I darted back to the carriage, staying out of sight from the grand windows. Returning to the horse's curious and seemingly critical gaze, I winked at him and returned to my seat, tipping my hat forwards and uttering one sentence before descending into a fake sleep.

"You'd have done the same."

Gemma's POV

I sat in an old armchair, fighting the urge to throw my sewing needle onto the carpet.

We had arrived home much too early, and I was now sighing with boredom. The dinner party had not lasted long after dinner, though Grandmama managed to keep everyone talking for quite a long while about the kind of hooligans that would dare to throw rocks at the house of such a renowned family.

Hating to relive the party except for my idiotic actions, which I liked to think were witty, I excused myself from the lifeless house with an excuse about checking on the horses. I changed into an older dress of mine and headed out to the near-empty stables where I knew Kartik would be waiting. He sat on the same stool as he had that other night, when I had snatched from Emily her quality time with Kartik.

I leaned against the stable entrance and came in, sitting disgracefully on a bale of hay. Kartik looked up from the thin stick that he was shaving away at with a pocket knife and met my eyes shamefully.

"Kartik."

I followed procedure by saying his name as some sort of greeting, and he returned it reluctantly.

"Gemma."

I stared him in the face and spoke plainly.

"That was ghastly, what you did today. What you've been doing to me for months."

I gave him time to defend himself, which he took. "Gemma, what have I been doing that's so horrible?"

I glared at him with cold hatred and answered for the sake of swiftness.

"Lying to me. Saying that you loved me and then returned to your other woman, the Indian one." Kartik looked bewildered, and the suspicious. "Where have you seen Sashi?"

I kept my expression blank and steely.

"A vision. I also saw you agreeing to woo my for some twisted mission. I saw you promise to lie for your imbecilic little club of magicians."

Kartik was speechless, able to do nothing but shake his head.

"That was long ago, that promise. Long before I left the Rakshana."

I accepted this mostly just so that I could hear him try to make up an excuse for this 'Sashi' character.

"And your other woman?"

He flinched as I spit the words at him, tilting his head to look up at the wooden ceiling.

"She is not mine," he started, as if choosing his words carefully. "I do not love her."

Before I could snap back with a sarcastic reply, a famililar feeling of lightness fogged over my mind, and I fell to the soft ground as explosions of colour erupted behind my lids. Vaguely I felt strong, wiry arms enveloping my body, pulling me up, but then I was whisked away from feeling and back to the forest. Whipping around in the dark, I wondered why I had been brought back here, where my soul had been shattered. Was fate really cruel enough to drag me back and stomp all over the pieces?

A sound drifted to my ears. A whispered word, tense and hateful. I turned, and saw them, just as before. But this time, when the scene played I did not lose contact as the two embraced; sluggishly my mind took in confusing movements: Kartik pushing her away, looking guilty. The woman staring in amazment and hurt, striking him out of anger.

I saw her run from him and into the trees, hasty to forget him, it seemed. His head turned in the direction of Spence, and the lips whose touch I had missed terribly twisted in a frown. His gaze was drawn back to the trees where Sashi had disappeared, and his figure seemed frozen in time, a solemn statue alone in the universe.

"Gemma!"

I bolted upright, gasping for breath after my vision. It was all so clear now, and my actions looked extremely foolish. I could not bring myself to look at him, to tell him that I was sorry. He let his cradling arms fall from my body, most likely remembering that we could be seen here, though luckily I had stormed a good way into the stables and we would not be seen from the house.

I scrambled to my feet, staring intently at the curious horses, looking at me with bunches of hay half out of their mouths. Kartik rose slowly and silently from his crouch and looked at me with a similar expression; he did not know that I had seen him refuse the beautiful girl in favour of me.

My chest heaved as I caught my breath, no doubt looking absolutely rediculous. Kartik's eyes were killing me. Refusing to meet them, I stared fixedly at my bare feet, suddenly regretting not wearing boots out of the house, as if decency were an issue. My mouth opened to release an explanation, some sort of apology, but I couldn't form words quite yet. He stayed totally still.

Just then the door that I had come through swung open, and I stiffened as footsteps hurried towards the stables. They sounded rushed and excited, and I guessed that it was Emily, the pretty serving girl who often waited on me.

My brain was screaming at me to turn and go, avoid being caught alone with him, but the thought only kicked in as Emily swept clumsily into the stables, stopping short as she saw me standing only a couple feet away from Kartik, his arms still slightly outstretched in case I swooned again. She stuttered for a few moments, then I excused myself harshly and scurried away, mumbling an already used excuse about a lesson on carriage safety.

You could've heard a pin drop in the silence that followed as I swept into the house, running to my room without even a hello or explanation to Tom, whose eyes never left my back as I hopped up the stairs.

"Gemma?"

I ignored his blunt inquiry and slipped into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I heard Grandmama's busybody nature take over as she spoke to Tom, who uttered only a short reply.

Shutting my ears off from them, I stripped down and climbed into bed naked. I didn't bother to fish a chemise out of my wardrobe.

The sunset didn't come for quite some time, reminding me vaguely of summer's fast approach.

Regret swirled around me, overloading my brain until the curses against myself were pushed out of my mouth and into the sheets. I beat at the bed, wishing I was tough enough or had the element to my personality that would let me do all that to myself, beat the rage out. I wished that it was Sashi's supple flesh I was tearing at, so that all this could be erased.

If not for her, I wouldn't have gone ahead and courted Simon, or yelled at Kartik, or even really been mad in the first place. Except for being sour about Kartik's former orders for a while, my anger would have simmered down into nothing...... it was Sashi's fault.

It was Mother's fault, for passing this gift on to her daughter in the first place.

It was Simon's fault, for asking for my hand and loving me, giving me the idea to return the love out of spite for Kartik.

It was my fault.

LOVE YOU! SORRY I'M ALL HAPPY, JUST GLAD TO BE FINISHED!