225 In the night- Part 4

"He wasn't worthy to have this cemented grave," stated Calhoun and he waved his hand as if she shouldn't worry about it. During the time of dinner and in her room, Calhoun appeared like any other ordinary person. Speaking to her so that she was aware of things that were going to take place in the castle. Earlier he spoke to her without teasing or taunting, but now it felt like his attitude had turned to its usual self. 

"Did you meet him?" Madeline asked. She knew Calhoun had met his father's mother who now resided in the cold cell of the dungeon with a rod that continued to stick into her mouth.

"No, but I heard my mother did. She said he was a very giving man. Someone much better than my father," Calhoun stepped closer to the cemented grave and started to dust the dirt that was on top of it. 

Madeline listened to Calhoun speak. She started removing the leaves that were on the top of the lid of the coffin, "If he was a good man, why did you take him out of his resting place?" and she saw Calhoun roll his eyes. 

"I was being sarcastic, Maddie," Calhoun responded, "He was a fucking bastard who did uncouth things. Going so far as even to touch my mother when she was the King's mistress."

Her lips pursed, pressing it against each other, "How did he die?" asked Madeline. 

Calhoun took note of how Madeline was helping him. His sweet girl, Calhoun thought to himself. "He got poisoned. I do wonder who poisoned him, such easy death," he shook his head in disappointment. 

"Have you always been like this?" Madeline questioned, wanting to know about him.

"This charming?" Calhoun cocked his head to the side. A smile broke through his lips as the grin widened. 

"Violent," said Madeline. 

Calhoun gave it a second before nodding his head, 

"Yes. I was born this way. I enjoy blood on my hands. Torturing people makes me excited." 

"It makes me worried," Madeline broke her gaze away from Calhoun to look down at the lid. 

"Why is that so?" Calhoun asked curiously, his eyes on Madeline who was looking at the top of the grave before she looked back at him, "I won't hurt people unnecessarily," he said with a solemn look to receive a stare from Madeline. He laughed, "You are right. I would surely hunt people down for my own pleasure and entertainment. But that is because they would have gone against me. I am a fairly reasonable man."

Madeline, who was done cleaning, searched for the name. When she found it, Madeline bent down to run her fingers over the name. 

"Constance Leigh," Calhoun said, "That was her name. Constance Leigh."

"Her name is engraved in here," she said to Calhoun. 

In the dark, quiet night, Madeline found it to be daunting, to meet a dead body that belonged to Calhoun's mother. Calhoun had pushed the lid enough for her to see the person who was resting in there. 

As she took slow steps one after another, she remembered the time when the caretaker of the graveyard near her village had pulled out a couple of old bodies from the ground to move them somewhere else so that there was more space available in the village cemetery. The old dead bodies were left with nothing but bones. 

Madeline reached where Calhoun stood, her eyes fixed on Calhoun who was looking at her. The smile on his lips had fallen. His eyes were calm yet there was a certain melancholy, which wasn't too evident.

"Don't be scared to look," he said, noticing her reluctance in moving her gaze away from him. 

This wasn't anyone but Calhoun's mother. It would be rude not to look. Her brown eyes slowly moved to fall on the person who laid in there. Her eyes widened before a frown appeared on her face and she looked back at Calhoun, who now was looking at his mother. 

His mother…

"She is beautiful…" said Madeline looking at the person who had not decayed one bit. How was that possible? Madeline asked herself. It looked like she had only been placed in the coffin a few hours ago. The woman's skin was slightly blemished, but she continued to look beautiful, "H-how has she n-not..."

"How has she not decayed?" Calhoun completed her sentence, and Madeline nodded her head. 

Madeline knew his mother died years ago before he came to live in the castle. Most of the bodies often started to smell and decay until they turned to nothing but bones. But the woman here looked like she was sleeping for years. 

"It is the attribute of the cemented grave. My great grandfather got it built through the help of the priests. It is why I moved her here," answered Calhoun. 

"No one ever found out about it?" she asked looking at his mother. Madeline was right. Calhoun did acquire his looks from his mother and not from his father.

She heard Calhoun say, "No one has the time to visit the dead."

Before closing the lid, Calhoun pulled out a stemmed rose from his coat, placing it in the woman's hands that were holding each other. Once Calhoun took his hand back from there, Madeline noticed how the red rose turned to black.

"Shall we leave?" Calhoun asked Madeline, who was staring at the rose and then his mother.

On their way back, Madeline couldn't stop but think how complex Calhoun was. For a person who was as twisted as him, she wondered what he had gone through. Like a rose's petal falling one after another, Madeline was learning more about him. She was grateful that he was being open without hiding anything from her. 

Calhoun saw her to her room, both of them standing outside without a word. Madeline wondered what he was thinking right now, "Get some sleep," he said to her. 

Madeline nodded and then bowed her head, "Thank you for today. For letting me meet your mother." She could tell that Calhoun didn't take everyone to meet his mother. For the royal family except for Calhoun, his mother was a non-existent person as she was never the queen. 

"Who will I introduce her to, if not you," remarked Calhoun, a smile cracking on his lips.

Calhoun observed how Madeline's eyes lowered. Not to look away from him but out of overwhelming emotions, she felt because of him and her spending time together. He doubted anyone had ever showered her with affection and attention as he had given her. Though the tailorman claimed he loved Madeline, he never came as close as to her breathing space. 

"Goodnight, Calhoun," Madeline wished him, and before she could leave, he caught her hand, stopping her from getting inside. 

When Madeline turned around, Calhoun leaned forward, and he stole a kiss from her lips, "Think of me, sweet Madeline. Goodnight," he whispered to let her go finally. He had teased her enough for the day; he wanted every fibre in her body and mind to think of him.

Watching her step inside the room and close the door, Calhoun looked left and right before making his way towards his room. It was good to see his mother after a decade. The last time he had opened the lid, it was when he had killed his father and his wife.

Recollecting that particular day, he could only relish on the feeling of how satisfying it had been. 

His thoughts went to the day,

"W-what, are you doing, Calhoun?" asked his father in shock with his eyes wide, "Free me right this instant! It is my order!" 

"Order? A King who cannot shield his own back, he's not worth being a King. How does it feel to be powerless?" asked Calhoun to the King. His father couldn't move an inch except to talk. Calhoun placed his hand on his father's chest.

His father was nervous, "What do you want?! I will give you anything. I will make you the King right this instant!" 

Calhoun tapped his fingers on his father's chest, "That I will become when you die. Do not worry, father. I will make sure you die heroically unlike the kind of worthless person you truly are," and he pushed his fingers through his father's chest, digging it in.

"I have taken care of you! You are my son. I love you! Stop this, Calhoun!" his father pleaded, and Calhoun smiled in satisfaction.

"I don't care," came the hollow words from Calhoun's lips. When he heard the sound of footsteps, he said, "Don't feel sad. I will send your beloved wife to give you company." 

Calhoun's hand had been dipped in blood until his elbow. It was because he had not stopped by just pulling out his father's heart, but he had pushed his hand through the back of his father before dropping the heart on the ground. 

Reaching his room now, Calhoun pushed the doors to step inside.

Pitiful thing, Calhoun thought to himself. The King had opened his arms to welcome him into the castle, not knowing he had greeted death.