When night stole across the sky and only the throbbing light of sighing fireflies kept the shadows at bay, Anisa would twist her bracelet around and around again in an effort to calm the echoes of her thoughts pacing in the cage of her skull. But it was Sean who wrapped his warm arms around her waist from behind and breathed into her ear with his rough-edged consonants that would stretch Anisa's soul taut and pluck out specific chords like guitar strings before settling her thoughts into a silence.
"Angel." He'd whisper to her.
"Love." She would reply, and the round vowels were thick with love.
And she'd tilt her head hoping that this would be the night that she'd see him, only to catch a glimpse of a white moon of a face and the flash of dark eyes.
"Angel." He'd repeat, voice deeper with the chiding but gentler with regret.
"Love." She'd twine her fingers in his, studying the ragged crescent moons of his fingernails and the shadows of delicate veins unfurling beneath the diamond whiteness of his skin. There might be a quick kiss, Anisa careful to avert her eyes from Sean's beautiful face, or they might dance to the music of the wind singing through the trees. And that was all that they needed to say and do, enough to sustain them until the next night when Sean came again at the roots of the rowan tree.
And then her father died.

She waited for him beneath the greedy branches of the rowan tree.
A crow cackled in the distance, and Anisa scrubbed away the hot tears collecting in the corners of her vision with the heel of her hand. The moon stared down at her, as accusing as the gaze of her step-mother as she cradled her deceased husband while Anisa stood frozen in the doorway with the edge of her palm pressed against her lips.
Dead.
Rage traced its way through Anisa's spine again, and she stood taller.
"Where are you, my love?" She called out to the shadows of the trees, voice trembling. "Why won't you come to me?"
And he was there.
Sean hid his face from her, studying the ground as he approached. It was impossible for him to miss the salt leaking between the fingers of her left hand or the iron knife in her right.
"Angel." He said, mournfully, regretfully. His fingers fluttered by his side like the wings of an injured bird, half-reaching out to her, half-holding back.
"Why?" Her voice broke, and as much as she swore to keep her mask on, she couldn't bear it. Her knees buckled, salt falling from her grasp, and it was only Sean's hands that kept her from falling. She cried into his chest as he lowered her to the dirt, forehead pressed against the marble of his collarbone through the high-collared coat. He stroked the planes of her brow with the calloused skin of his thumb, and then he froze.
Anisa held the cold iron to the back of his neck. Sitting up slowly, she brought her face to his until their noses almost brushed against each other. Her knees touched his.
She looked into his face, into his eyes. The muscles around his eyes were tight with the fear, his pale lips barely parted as he studied her studying him.
And there was nothing. Sean's gaze was filled with empty darkness, and in that moment his hollowness grew within her. He was like a snake, poised to strike, still enough to fool its prey into complacency. The creature Anisa thought she knew who spoke in love and beautiful words and promises silently vowed in the places hidden from the truth of daylight...None of it existed.
"Father was right." Anisa saw clearly for the first time in her life. "Can you even love? Do you even have a soul?" She jerked the knife forward so it dug into his skin. He followed the movement, a harsh gasp caught in his throat as his eyelids closed for a long moment, eyelashes butterfly fragile against his cheekbones.
"Angel, please." Two delicate tears like glass rolled down his face.
"My father is dead. It was your doing, wasn't it?" Anisa let out a bitter laugh verging on wild with hysteria.
"No." Sean breathed.
"It was your fault he's dead!"
"No."
Anisa pushed the knife even further against Sean's skin, and a thin line of silver blood dripped down his neck onto the shoulder of his black coat. "Don't lie to me."
"I cannot." He whispered. "You know I cannot."
"Why?" Her accusations had deteriorated into the breathy gasping that portended a bout of sobs.
"If I did have a fault, it was that I loved you too much. The Queen demanded blood payment, and I could not bear to let her have yours." His confession rent irreparable damage to her soul, and she couldn't bear his lies.
"If you loved me, you would have saved him. You are a monster. You can't love." Anisa choked on her words. "You never loved me. You only love your queen." She released the knife, and it clattered to the ground.
Sean flinched away but didn't unfold his long limbs to escape. Instead, he put her hands on either side of her face, brushing away her tears even as his own continued falling. "Anisa, my love. My heart belongs to only one queen, to you."
"You don't have a heart." She whispered, leaning away from his touch. Smoothing down the folds of her dress, she staggered to her feet and turned to leave.
Sean grabbed her hand, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "How can I prove it to you? How will you believe me?"
"Fix this." And then she left, leaving him kneeling in the weeds behind her as her shoulders shook with the force of her grief.

Her father died on a Wednesday morning.
On Thursday evening, he gasped back to life, clawing at his chest and coughing hard enough to rattle his ribcage.
Thursday night, Anisa gathered her skirts in her hand and sprinted outside to the roots of the rowan tree.
"Sean!" She called, voice leaping with ebullience. "Sean! My love! He's alive!"
The woods remained dark and motionless, empty branches creaking in the cold breeze. Even her rowan tree had lost color, and its shadows seemed deeper than usual.
"Sean?" She said again, stepping towards the woods.
She accidentally kicked something, and it skidded a few feet from her. A feeling of dread settled in her chest as she scooped up the small box covered in brown wrapping paper and adorned with a shimmering silver ribbon. A small cream-colored square was tied to the front, and Anisa pulled it out slowly, flipping it over to read the lilting script.
The message was short and concise, but it left Anisa feeling dizzy and apprehensive of the box. There was no signature, but Anisa knew it wasn't Sean. He would have met her himself, if he was able.
Why should she open the box? She could just leave it here and feign ignorance. But she had to know what was inside. Her fingers trembled as she untied the ribbon and ripped the paper. The top edge of the box was carefully tugged and opened reluctantly. At the sight of the heart still wet with silver blood inside, she dropped the box, covering her mouth in horror before letting out a wail and collapsing to the ground.
The note fluttered to the ground.
What belongs to you has been returned.