Part I: The end will come in the form of a demon with the face of an angel
How to read the book
This book can be read in two ways:
1. To better follow Ophelia's story: Start by reading the book, and when Alistair gives the diary to Ophelia, one can read the diary to find out the truth together with the princess.
2. To better follow Alistair’s story: Read the diary first, to know his hidden secrets as you turn the pages of the story.
Both ways are correct and will keep you in suspense. Alistair doesn't put all his secrets in a diary anyway.
Author’s favorite way of reading it:
• Follow Ophelia’s story
The wishmakers
They were known to smell desperation. They had a sixth sense for it. Just when you thought your whole world was falling apart, they would appear. Sometimes they knocked on your door and beckoned, but other times they were like the demon on your shoulder, constantly whispering in your ear everything they could do for you. A wish, that's all it took. One wish, and the wishmaker would grant it... but only as he saw fit.
Chapter 1 (Or Alistair's Dairy)
Ophelia... that was the name of the princess of the Western Kingdom. Her mother, with snow-white hair, doe-brown eyes, and olive complexion, the beloved queen, left her for the other realm when she was only three years old.
Ophelia didn't remember much about her, but she knew she inherited her mother’s hair. Too bad she couldn’t say the same about her kindness.
Her father, Sir Magnus, a duke from the northern kingdom, an intelligent man, but who had no direct access to the throne after his wife's death, remained at the castle with his daughter.
He and his subordinates would rule the kingdom until little Ophelia was married. Even though the throne would be hers entirely, without her husband having any say in it, she could not become queen without a king.
The law required any ruler to have a husband or wife, as the case may be, in order to create heirs. That was the first law her father and his subordinates put in place once they came to power.
Ophelia knew she had to marry anyone and quickly to escape her father's tyranny, but the mission had become far too difficult.
Lords, dukes, princes, and anyone for that matter, came to ask for her hand in marriage, but her father had turned them all down, saying that none of them could take care of his daughter. His darling Ophelia, who had inherited his white skin, blue eyes, and even his cruelty.
He couldn't just leave her in anyone's hands. It was impossible for him! There were very few who could keep her under control like he did.
So his beloved Ophelia, caught between a rock and a hard place, chose to run away with a sweet servant who was educated enough to pass as a lord, marry secretly, and take the throne. Her plans ended tragically when he disappeared without a trace. Her father had never mentioned anything about the incident, but there was no need. She knew she would never see the boy again.
* * *
Every day she got up at six in the evening. The sun was not so strong then, and on winter days like this, it was already getting dark. Her skin was as white as her hair, and the sun burned her like a witch at the stake. Maybe she was a witch, and this was her punishment. She had to look like an angel, but was bound to have a black heart and walk in the shadows.
She got out of bed and quickly put on the dress that her maid had left out for her. Mabel was a beautiful young woman with a peachy skin and green eyes that always seemed angry about something.
Sometimes she envied her… Ophelia wished she could look like Mabel, but then she remembered why she was her maid.
Not many roamed the castle when Ophelia did, which meant Mabel could gracefully evade Sir Magnus who had tried too many times to catch her alone. Being a clever girl, she quickly realized his intentions and immediately went to the princess's door to beg her to take her into service. Of two evils, she would choose the lesser.
“Your Majesty,” Mabel entered the bedroom through the door she had barely cracked. “Unfortunately, I cannot prepare breakfast for you in the large room.”
She couldn't see the princess's face as all the curtains were drawn and the candles were out, but she could tell she was angry just by the way she was breathing. You learn a lot more about a person in the dark than in the light.
“Why?” Ophelia asked, pushing the chair as she stood up.
“Your father is there with some guests.”
“I don't care,” she said with a laugh and lit a candle.
Her face lit up in seconds, and Mabel saw the only look on her face that still managed to freeze her blood. Ophelia’s eyes in that light seemed red, and that smile, however frail it seemed, hid teeth that wanted to bite.
Mabel had known her for five years already and she knew what the princess was up to. In Ophelia’s current state, she wanted to see blood.
“Ask someone from the kitchen to prepare the meal and take care of it. You can take a break,” Ophelia finally said.
“I’ll handle it immediately,” Mabel answered and ran out of the room before her mistress could change her mind.
What she didn't know was that her mistress would have never changed her mind. She knew Mabel's fear and hatred for her father, a hatred they shared, albeit for different reasons, but Ophelia wasn’t the sentimental type. She owed Mabel and that was the way she repaid her.
What Mabel had done so long ago, a few months after she had entered Ophelia’s service, could not be repaid so easily.
She reached behind her back and felt a large scar on one of her shoulder blades. It still hurt. Somehow, after all this time, it still felt alive on her back as if she had only received it a week or so ago. She clenched her jaw and removed her hand.
She closed her eyes and counted to five, inhaling, then exhaling gently, only afterwards to grab the candle from the stand and lift it suddenly, making the flame flicker.
She strode over to the mirror and looked into it, reaching out as if she could enter that world too. If only she had felt the way she looked, maybe then she would have had an ounce of happiness, even a small one.
* * *
She didn’t knock on the door, just swung it open, walking in like she was about to catch someone red-handed. As she did so, all eyes turned to her as she sized them up from the door frame.
Her father was in the armchair, watching her with a wry smile on his face. He didn't like to be disturbed, but lately he was always in a good mood. She was happy that she had only inherited his eye color and cruelty, because if she had to look in any mirror and remember him, she would shatter them all.
There were two other men she knew, as they were among her father’s subordinates. They were the twins, a bunch of fools who always treated Sir Magnus like he was the real king and not just her replacement. They both looked at her curiously, like anyone who saw her for the first time or after a long period of time. She had this effect on people. Her skin and hair did.
However, she knew they were just waiting for her father's reaction to figure out how to deal with her, the two of them having no thoughts of their own. They were among the first she wanted dead once she became queen. If she would ever become queen...
The fourth man was someone new... She hadn't seen him before, so she instinctively kept her eyes on him. He was familiar, but she had no idea from where she knew him.
He looked at her in turn, but there was no curiosity in his eyes. Her heart began to race, thinking that he could be one of those people. One of the evil ones… but then she remembered from where she thought she knew him.
She didn't know him, but she had read about people like him. Black, purple-ish hair, deep purple eyes, sunburnt skin... only it was strange that he wasn't a child.
Wishmakers were always children. She had never seen or heard of one that was an adult. With each wish granted, they stopped their aging process. One wish a day, that was all it took to keep them immortal. One wish a day for eternity.
He looked to be in his late thirties. He had wrinkles around his eyes and a few on his forehead, a shaved beard, and a tired look. It fascinated her and few could do that.
“My dear, Ophelia!” his father began, rousing them all from their trance. “Please help yourself to food, coffee or just have a seat.”
Her father was standing and motioning for her to take a seat right next to him at the small round table. She was sorry she had come. Something was happening and she had no idea what.
“Sure,” she answered with a soft smile, and took a place on the empty chair.
The twins didn't know the truth about her. They thought she was gentle like her mother and wanted to keep up that appearance. She wanted the new man to have exactly the same opinion of her.
Maybe she would need him. A wishmaker was very valuable, especially since they were hard to find, if they weren’t looking for you. She wondered how her father knew him, but she was sure that he would never tell her.
As Ophelia, arranged her skirt, her father placed his hand on her shoulder and began to squeeze much harder than he should have, pushing her down into the chair as well, all while talking about nothings with the others.
It hurt, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She just kept smiling, clenching her fist hidden under the table until her nails pierced her skin. She preferred to focus on that pain rather than the pain he was causing her.
“Don't you want me to make you a coffee?” she heard the new man's voice.
“No, thank you,” she answered him quickly, shocked that he had spoken to her and given her a way out. “I'll do it myself if you don't mind.”
The wishmaker just smiled at her, gesturing towards the coffee pot, and she rose from her chair as if she had flown. She walked away from that table to the one by the window where the coffee and food were.
She could still feel the throbbing in her shoulder, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing that he hurt her. She was going to ignore her shoulder until the pain went away.
At that moment, her mind wandered elsewhere: she wanted to know if the wishmaker had noticed what her father was doing. Was that why he had intervened?
She looked back at the table, still stirring her coffee, but he wasn't looking at her, unlike the rest. Maybe he was there to lure her into a trap… Her father was cunning enough to bring a wishmaker to convince her to make a wish that would destroy her life.
“Alistair is always so attentive,” continued her father, although there was a hint of contempt in his voice.
She was curious if his hatred was directed at her or at her savior who probably had no idea what he had done. The poor thing... He didn't know what was waiting for him.
“Yes, he is,” she said, looking at the man who turned to her.
“I can be like that from time to time,” Alistair told her, and her skin got goosebumps.
His voice, his look, everything fascinated her. He was a man of unimaginable power. She had no idea if she should stay away from him or try to bring him to her side.
“We have to go,” the twins said almost at once, frowning at each other. “But tomorrow we will come to the party.”
“A party?” Ophelia raised an eyebrow.
“One for men only,” her father cut her short. “Let me lead you! Ophelia, take care of our guest until I return.”
She just nodded, but stayed close to the table where the drinks and food were. It was her safe place, away from them. Far from him…
She expected the wishmaker to interact with her once it was just the two of them, but the man wasn't saying anything. He only had a newspaper in front of him which he was flipping through.
She watched him with interest, as his eyes moved up and down the page, his chest rose with every breath, and he stretched his leg. She had to think about what to say to him and how to say it, but her mouth took over.
“You are a wishmaker, aren't you?”
“Yes,” he turned to her, giving half his attention to her and half to the newspaper.
He quietly waited for the next question as he ran his finger over the rough paper in his hand. He was used to people being surprised by him and knew what to expect, so he was looking forward to getting over with the questions.
She was more than sure he had a list of answers to all the questions he'd heard countless times, ready to say them quickly so he could get back to whatever he was doing, so she didn’t bother to start with those.
“Did my father invite you here?”
This question took him by surprise. He looked at her a little confused, then leaned back. He placed the newspaper on the table, his attention completely focused on her.
“No. I was in the area and decided to visit him. I haven't seen him in a long time and I thought it was about time.”
“I haven't seen you before,” she said and took big steps towards the table.
“Your loss, Your Majesty” he replied.
It was as if he was gazing into her soul when he looked at her. She wished she could close her eyes, but then she wouldn't be able to keep him under surveillance.
“Please don't call me that. It’s not the case yet,” she smiled and took a sip of coffee. “I need more sugar,” she sighed. “Could you bring me some, please?”
“Sure,” he answered and got up from the chair.
It didn't take long for her to remove the bottle from the neckline of her dress, pour its contents into her father's coffee, and then hide it back. When the man handed her the bowl of sugar, she took it as if nothing had happened.
She even smiled at him, thanking him in her mind, not knowing how much he had helped her.
She had carried that poison with her for months, but she couldn't use it. It would have been far too obvious that she was guilty of trying to murder her father. This was her biggest mistake: she had let some people at the castle know how much she hated her father.
However, the appearance of a stranger who wasn't even invited... He was a perfect candidate! She couldn't ask for anything better.
She felt sorry, considering he had helped her, but such an opportunity would not arise for a long time. He was her chosen one! Her scapegoat.
“I know that my appearance surprises,” she said after a pause that lasted a little too long, in which he looked at her without taking his eyes off of her.
“Mine as well,” he smiled for the first time since they were alone.
Something amused him. You could tell by his smile and his eyes that sparkled a little differently than before.
“What is the most annoying thing people ask you? About the way you look,” he said and gestured to her.
“If I am an angel,” she laughed sadly.
“And are you?”
“What do you think?” she raised an eyebrow.
“I don't know,” he shrugged and got up from the chair. “You could be one...” he said, taking her father's mug in his hand and striding towards a window.
Her face had completely changed in seconds, from trying to look cute to that of a cornered animal. She was watching him, waiting to see what he was going to do, but he wasn't looking at her at all.
It was true that the two cups were placed a little too close together, but she really wouldn't have thought that he would take her father's cup. Should she stop him? If he drank that, he would have had a pretty painful death.
“Or you might not be,” he continued and opened the window wide, throwing the contents of the cup outside.
Her heart was beating like crazy in her chest, following his every step. He had not messed up the cups, but he knew what she had done.
“I guess we'll never know,” he said with an innocent smile, throwing the mug out the window as well.
He walked over to the coffee table, filled another mug, then placed it in place of the old one. He took his mug in his hand and sipped his poison less coffee.
“Aren't you hungry?” he asked as if nothing had happened.
“It wouldn't have hurt him much,” she lied, looking at the new mug.
“What?” he said confused, though she knew for sure that he was faking it.
“Nothing,” she answered and stood up. “But yes, I'm hungry,” she finally answered, heading for the buffet.
She took a plate and then saw for the first time how the metal coffee pot reflected the entire table behind her. She could see him looking at her and smiling.
