AN: Definitely didn't forget this one, despite all signs pointing to it looking like I sure did! I'm sure there's still some grammar/spelling mistakes, but I'm just so damn tired of staring at the same ten pages. Forgive me!

Psychometry

Chapter One

Of Curses and Gifts

Sarah bit her lip and winced at the sharp tones coming from the room beyond the closed doors she was currently precariously leaning against. Her friend, perhaps only friend, Tanya, crouched opposite her, ear also pressed with fervor against the hardwood. Her blue eyes stared back at Sarah helplessly.

"And what do you propose, Maria?!" Sarah's father's voice boomed loudly, nearly rattling the door.

A few moments of silence passed, and Sarah could only guess that her mother was biting her lip and curling her fists as she was wont to do whenever irritated. And now, if Sarah was guessing this scene correctly, her mother was dragging in a deep sigh, trying to cool her fiery nerves. Sarah knew this, because she too had developed the same hot temper.

"I understand, Richard," she all but hissed. Here, Sarah couldn't discern what she was saying. And then louder, "believe me, I'm beginning to run out of ideas too! It's not lost on me that the list of potential suitors is shortening."

And there it was.

Sarah knew this was the root of the fighting. It had been the root for the better half of a year. Ever since Sarah's parents had begun to host potential suitors for her hand in marriage, horrible fates had befallen them all. One had fallen off the side of a bridge, another had been trampled by a horse drawn carriage. The last suitor had completely vanished without a trace, last known to be out on a hunting trip.

It was becoming apparent that even though Sarah wasn't present near these young men when they met their dooms, she was the common denominator. The court was gossiping, openly, and Sarah was keenly aware that she had been dubbed the black widow, disposing of her suitors before they ever got the chance to actually make it official. The theories for why were humorous sometimes, that much Sarah could admit, but even she had to wonder 'what the hell gives?'

Either way, Sarah knew her parents were becoming tense at the prospect of Sarah becoming an old spinster, everyone too afraid to meet their untimely end.

For Sarah's part, she had tried to shrug it off. It's not like she ran out there ensuring their deaths, and so she tried to not take on the guilt that had been assigned to her. But it was becoming harder and harder to ignore when people blatantly avoided her, whispered about her, narrated tall tales about her that had become outlandish in nature, going so far as to call her cursed. Tanya was close to the only friend she had, and sometimes she wondered if that was only because she was forced to be.

Tanya's family had several years back fallen out of favor with the court after her father had stumbled into some terrible debts and botched trade deals. They had been close to losing everything, but Sarah's father, an old friend of Tanya's father, had prevented the worst from happening. In some ways, Sarah had to wonder if Tanya was, by proxy, honoring a debt owed to the royal family.

But if Tanya had any reservations about their friendship, she seemed to easily conceal it. The two had been a pair for years at this point, so Sarah realized her fears were more than likely unfounded.

Footsteps behind the door startled Sarah back to reality, and she and Tanya shared a meaningful look before bolting back toward one of the numerous sitting rooms.

They both sat in silence, Sarah idly picking up her discarded needlework. Her parents' shouting match could be heard from where Tanya and Sarah had been sitting, and so with bemused expressions, they had gone to snoop, mostly at Sarah's behest. And now Sarah kind of regretted it.

With a little more force than necessary, Sarah stabbed the cloth with her needle, pulling the thread with a vicious yank. Tanya flinched in sympathy for the cloth, suddenly very grateful Sarah could never pursue the healing professions.

"You know...it's probably not as bad as we think," she offered gently after deciding she couldn't watch Sarah pummel her needlework. "I'm sure there are still a dozen suitors waiting to marry you. After all, you're the princess of the realm! If anything," she added slyly, "I'd say you have an air of mystery around you."

Sarah stared flatly. "Only you could turn the tales of my suitors dying into a thrilling story."

Tanya shrugged. "All I'm saying is, yes, it's tragic a few young men have perished...but why it's suddenly your issue is beyond me. I mean, you could easily explain their deaths by imbibing too much alcohol. Falling off a bridge? Probably drunk. Trampled by a carriage? Probably stumbled and fell, due to being drunk. Lost on a hunting trip? Probably fell down a cliffside or got mauled by an animal...due to being drunk."

Tanya froze from her needlework when she realized Sarah hadn't uttered a single word in several moments. Looking up, she saw her friend's face staring back at her aghast.

"Was that too far?" Tanya asked innocently.

"A bit," Sarah hissed, trying to snuff out the smile forming on her lips. "Well, let's forget about my marriage woes for a minute. Let's focus on you." A bright, mischievous look was on her face, and Tanya flushed.

"I'd rather not. There isn't much to say anyway."

"Oh, right. You expect me to believe that? It's not as if I haven't noticed you ogling the knights practicing outside…"

Tanya turned redder than the curls piled atop her head. "That is absurd. I have no idea what you're talking about." With all the poise of a high society lady, Tanya sat up straighter and focused on the needle and thread in her hands.

"Oh," Sarah began glumly, a smirk barely concealing itself. "I mean, that's a shame. Because I heard Sir Didymus had his eye on someone…"

Tanya stiffened. "Oh? Interesting."

Sarah studied her with scrutiny, trying to see if Tanya would crack eventually. Her neck was certainly beginning to flush…

Time to do the final twist of the knife, then.

"I guess it's none of my business," she said primly, shuffling in her seat before resuming her needlework.

After a few seconds of silence, Sarah inwardly grinned when she heard Tanya's small intake of air.

"So...what did he say? A-about this...someone."

Sarah pretended to look surprised. "Interested?"

Tanya scowled.

"Oh, come on, Tanya!" Sarah cajoled. "I know you like him. You become devoid of all functioning whenever your gaze lands on him. And I see him staring back at you, so clearly it's not just idle daydreaming."

"It doesn't matter, regardless of what he may think about me. Father has worked so hard to restore our family name, I feel like he'd think that even a knight would be beneath me." She gave a helpless shrug. "And well, there isn't anything more to say about the matter."

Sarah frowned. "Well, that seems unfair, doesn't it? Sir Didymus is rising in the ranks. And he's a knight, not some commoner. Maybe your father wouldn't feel as restrictive in the matter as you think."

Tanya gave a mirthless laugh. "I highly doubt that. Besides," Tanya grinned, "aren't you and I going to become old maids together?"

Sarah threw her head back and laughed, the fight she had overheard between her parents earlier slowly fading.

"Mother," Sarah grimaced, trying to stay still but failing, "I don't think you need to wrestle with every tangle."

"Nonsense," her mother brusquely replied, having moved on to swatting at invisible specks of dust on Sarah's shoulders. "You need to look absolutely radiant tonight. Not that you don't already, dear," she amended quickly. "It's just...well, you know." Sarah's mother didn't have to continue speaking, because Sarah had already guessed what the unspoken words would allude to. It's just, you don't have many more options left.

"I know," Sarah sighed. She then gave a quick smile at the reflection in the mirror, catching her mother's worried glances. It was startling, in these moments, to see how truly similar they looked, from their dark brown hair to their dazzling, bright green eyes. Sometimes it seemed the only difference was the slight wrinkles at the corners of her mother's eyes.

And well, Sarah's mother had been able to marry. That was proving to be a rather large hurdle for Sarah.

"Oh, the young earl is going to be so enamored with you," her mother sighed, and Sarah could tell she genuinely meant it. Even if they had been hoping for a prince…

All things considered, Sarah determined the earl arranging to meet with her meant he must've either been extremely stupid, extremely arrogant, or he had a death wish and it was all going according to plan. Either way, Sarah wasn't about to tell her mother that she didn't really think this was going to go anywhere...her mother's face already looked wan enough.

Sarah's gaze returned to the reflection in the mirror, and she studied herself with a detached sort of resignation. She did look nice, she could admit that much. Her normally untamed waves had been pulled into an elegant coif, and the minimal makeup only enhanced the brightness of her eyes. The dress was beautiful as well, but it all felt so...useless.

What was the point in getting all gussied up when she just knew, based off of the sinking feeling in her stomach, that this was going to go nowhere pleasant?

But the pleading expression on her mother's face made her internally roll her eyes. She'd just have to grit her teeth and bear it.

Still, Sarah couldn't help but voice aloud a thought that kept her up at night sometimes, and before stopping to consider the impact of what she was about to say, she turned away from her reflection in the mirror to look at her mother.

"Mother...do you think it's true? That our family - that I'm - cursed?" She knew the moment she had uttered the words aloud that it was foolish, a stupid moment of child-like fear. The look on her mother's face in return was further evidence.

Her mother's gaze looked suddenly distant and hollow, and Sarah wondered if she was about to have a spell. And then as quickly as the moment had come, it left, and her mother's brows knitted together.

"Why on earth would you ask such a question?" She returned to tightening the already tight laces at the back of Sarah's dress. "That's entirely ridiculous! You need to stop listening to all this stupid, idle gossip. You know, it's practically bordering on treason!"

"I suppo- ouch! Mother!" Sarah gasped at a particularly vicious yank of a lace, the conversation being effectively ended.

"Now, let's go join the others before we're late," her mother gently grasped Sarah's upper arm and she guided her out of her bedroom, down the stairs and toward the throne room, where her father was most likely anxiously waiting.

It would've been easier, Sarah realized, to not feel so uptight if everyone else had just loosened up a little, and by loosened up, she had meant taking the sticks out of their asses.

She soon caught sight of her father's weary gaze as they strolled into the room, and she almost immediately wished she could run right back up the stairs. The look on his face screamed 'this better go right!' and Sarah found she wasn't up for the task. Especially when she had no idea what she was doing wrong...besides being a bastion of terrible luck.

"You look lovely," he stated in a way that really felt more like 'let's get this over with, shall we?' and Sarah just returned his compliment with a placid smile.

In what Sarah could only deem too soon, her latest suitor soon arrived with his whole entourage. His presence immediately filled the room, but Sarah couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Not yet at least.

He was handsome, she could give him that. He had sandy blonde hair and rich brown eyes, with the slightest smattering of freckles upon the bridge of his nose and cheeks. The smile he flashed her was boyish and confident, and Sarah blushed, unable to help herself.

"My Lord," he gave a low bow, and then promptly did the same for Sarah's mother, who was blushing like a young maiden, and Sarah had to wonder who he was actually here to court.

Tanya stood not too far off to the side and subtly pantomimed choking, and Sarah nearly toppled over from the silent laughter wracking her body.

It took a swift pinch from her mother to realize the young man was staring at her expectantly, and it was then she belatedly realized he had introduced himself and was now waiting for her to do likewise.

Oh...oh shoot. What was his name? Ah, well…

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." Sarah dipped into a well-rehearsed curtsy. She flashed one of her best smiles, and he easily returned it.

Sarah gazed at the poor bastard with a deep melancholy. Didn't he realize what he was flirting with right now? Had he not heard of all the other young men who somehow died gruesome deaths soon after encountering her? For all he knew, she was behind it, but luckily for him, Sarah could barely wield a needle, much less a weapon of actual consequence.

Dinner passed by with little activity, Sarah using her fake laugh more times than she cared to admit, and Tanya wincing at the sound further down the table. A full on party was starting to form as the table was cleared and guests got up to mingle, dance, and drink. If there was one good thing about Sarah's endless line of suitors, it was that it gave the nobility a chance to drink the night away in celebration. Celebration of what...well, that was up for debate these days.

Sarah felt like the elephant in the room, acutely aware of the fact that she was the whole reason people were here to party but also the one most people seemed to avoid, instead offering polite, distant nods to.

It was obvious she was the pariah, royal status be damned. She was lucky enough to get an earl showing interest!

Tanya sidled up to her, flute glass in hand. "He's not too bad," she mused, taking a polite sip of her drink.

"No, he isn't," Sarah agreed. "But he must be kind of daft, right? Makes you wonder what's wrong with him if he's still pursuing me, given all the...y'know," she gestured vaguely.

Tanya shrugged. "I mean, there's always our back up plan, right? We dress up as hags, run away to be barmaids and live a life of scandal and anonymity?"

Sarah and Tanya shared a look before bursting into laughter.

Unfortunately, that sounded far more appealing than right now.

"Ah, here he is," Sarah whispered through gritted teeth. "My potential betrothed, the apple of my eye…"

The young earl, Adam, as she had come to learn his name, was...nice. He wasn't particularly interesting, but he wasn't exactly dull...and well, he was handsome, that much she could continue to affirm. But he just didn't seem...exciting. Like a good fit. And then Sarah realized that the big issue in all this was that she thought she had a choice.

Like it or not, Adam was probably the best shot she had at not bringing her family complete shame. Her standing was already precarious, what with being a so-called maneater, black widow, you name it...but it still hit her like a ton of bricks that fancying people and flirting had never been in the books for her...not with all the bad luck surrounding her.

So with newfound awareness and reality, Sarah squared her shoulders and laughed and danced the night away with the earl. She laughed at all his jokes, allowed him to get her a drink, and listened to his absolutely regaling tales of hunting trips he'd taken in the last few years.

It was all utterly boring.

Eventually, Sarah found a few moments to herself to steal away, Adam now being surrounded by a group of people as he discussed his supposed square off with a bear. She had to roll her eyes at that one.

Sarah sighed with a sense of boredom, snapping her fan open and blowing some much needed cool air against her neck. The room had been overheating, and the corset tied snugly against her made it nearly impossible to breathe. The tension holding her body taut didn't seem to be helping.

"I certainly didn't think I would catch the princess here."

Sarah startled, snapping her fan shut abruptly. Looking to her right, she saw a tall, lean man approaching her. A white bauta mask covered his face, and Sarah felt her body go rigid, suddenly on the alert. This wasn't a masquerade party, so it was strange to see this man dressed as though he were in attendance of one.

That, and she felt like she would've recognized someone looking like that. The party had less than two hundred people in attendance - he would've stood out. Had Sarah been able to blissfully knock back drinks like she wished, maybe it would've been a different story. But either way, something in her gut told her to be on guard.

"Good evening." She pushed off from the wall and dipped into an effortless curtsy. "I don't believe I have seen you the whole night...to whom do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice, while deferential, dripped with thinly veiled sarcasm.

"You are the princess - it is rather hard to gain your attention," the man stated, and she knew somehow that a smile was gracing his lips. "Please forgive me for my transgression, meeting you alone."

"No matter," Sarah snapped her fan back open, fanning it with calculated disinterest. "I must be on my way. The earl will be looking for me."

She quickly moved to turn away, suddenly deeply uncomfortable being alone with this stranger. There was no one clear reason why, but Sarah wasn't about to ignore her gut. Besides, it wouldn't look proper for her to be alone with another man, even if it had been her latest suitor.

Sarah had barely turned her back on him when the man suddenly grasped her wrist, his grip gentle but firm. She whipped her head back around in shock, indignation rising up in her.

"How dare you!" She hissed, moving to snatch her wrist back, but the stranger didn't relent. "I'll scream," she threatened.

"Oh, I'll be dying to hear those but not tonight," he purred, causing Sarah to flush a new shade of red that had perhaps never been seen before. "Please, allow me the small honor of at least offering you a gift fit for a queen."

"I'm not a queen," she sputtered. "And I still don't know who you are!"

And then as if by sleight of hand, a peach suddenly appeared in his gloved hand. Sarah could've sworn she hadn't seen his hands move at all, and yet there the peach sat, plump and perfectly ripe. Sarah's gaze shifted up to the stranger's, and for the first time, she truly noticed his eyes. The mask had done much to distract her from looking too closely, and if she was being completely honest, it unsettled her. But his eyes, as she studied them, appeared to be mismatched and inhuman, though she didn't know how she came to that conclusion. A shudder rippled up and down her spine.

Suddenly, she felt the peach pushed into the palm of her hand.

"A gift fit for a queen," he repeated, the tone of his voice warping, almost hypnotic. Sarah felt her senses dulling, as though her thoughts and sensations were coated in layers of molasses. She found her mind drifting as her fingers delicately pressed into the ripe flesh of the peach.

"A gift…" she echoed.

Sarah felt herself slowly bring the peach up to her lips, as if she were a puppet on a string. A voice in the back of her head needled at her, begging her to regain her senses, but the message was garbled.

And then, Sarah took a bite out of the peach, the juices bursting. She had the distinct thought that it was unlike any peach she had ever tasted before.

No, no, no…

Something was terribly wrong, but she couldn't muster the energy to care. In fact, she was feeling downright exhausted. Sarah staggered against the wall, her blood rushing in her ears. It was as though her gown had suddenly added on an extra ten pounds and she could hold on no longer.

The last thing she could recall was the feel of the strange man's gaze upon her, the mask slowly being pulled off but his features too hazy to make out.

"I think the party's finally beginning, Sarah."

AN: huohhh! wonder what'll happen next. If you read to the end of this chapter, thank you so much. I always appreciate everyone who takes the time to do so!