15. Chapter 15
15
Nelle
S age raised his head just before a rapping knock sounded at the door to my quarters. A moment later, the door swung open and Evvie entered my bedroom. “I came to check on you,” she said brightly.
I’d showered, and my damp hair brushed along my back, leaving wet patches on my white nightie. My skin was freshly scrubbed and smelling not of him but of the strawberry soap I liked so much. Evvie gave me a quizzical look as I ripped the quilt from my bed and followed as I strode into my living room, tossing the bedding onto an armchair chair. There was no way I was going to sleep in linen that smelled of Graysen Crowther.
My sister’s gaze darted from the unceremoniously dumped quilt, back to me. I gave her no time to contemplate it, to piece it together. Our father had refused to listen to me. He wouldn’t end her engagement to Corné, but maybe I could get through to her. I loosely gripped the same arm Corné had squeezed so hard she’d flinched with pain. “Evvie, he was hurting you.”
She startled, surprised at my forthrightness. Conflict scored across her exquisite features. Her gaze scanned mine, and I knew she’d find nothing but fierce determination.
She briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she had hidden from me, transforming into the composed Wychthorn princess she’d perfected over the years. “It’s fine, really,” she said, repeating the same words she had used to calm me before I’d unleashed myself on her fiancé. “He apologized afterward. He didn’t realize he’d been holding me so tightly.”
The lie dripped so easily from her tongue. She always mothered me, never wanting me to worry about anything. Corné squeezed her arm so badly she’d bruise, and she smiled sweetly through it all.
“I don’t like him, Evvie. I don’t want you marrying him.”
Her slender fingers gently stroked along my shoulder, back and forth. The same way she’d soothe and lull me as a child. Something about her touch always infused me with calm and made my heartbeat slow. “I’ll tame him, just like I tamed you.”
I never knew if it was some slight form of other or if she simply possessed a natural ability to soothe. Either way, she was the only one who could get through to me as a young child.
Still, I wasn’t about to gamble my sister’s happiness, her life, on the chance she could change Corné’s nasty nature. I frowned. “That’s different.”
“Not so much.”
“He’s a sadistic prick. And I’m not.”
“No, you’re just wild with a wicked tongue.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
I hissed through my teeth with annoyance, spinning away to pad over to a cupboard, opening it, and pulling out a new quilt in pale lemon. Hugging it to my chest, I chose my words carefully. “Are you happy to marry Corné?”
“He’s a Pellan—”
I spun around, facing her again. “I don’t care about him being a Pellan. I want to know if he’s kind. Respectful. Lets you speak your mind?”
Three things I knew the answer to already: no.
But Evvie straightened her spine with a defiant and imperious tilt to her chin. “Of course he does.”
“Liar,” I muttered, my eyes narrowing as I took a long step closer. She couldn’t hold my fierce glower and suddenly folded in on herself. Her shoulders fell and her hands slackened to her sides. Ducking her head, her gaze dropped to her Louboutin heels and her voice lowered to a weak whisper. “Nelle… I don’t have a choice.”
“You could refuse.”
“Refuse our father?” Her eye snapped to mine, so wide with shock that I could see the whites all around the irises.
“Run away,” I urged. Hells, I’d go with her to escape the Crowthers.
She tipped her head to the side, giving me a small sad smile, lifting her arms to spread her palms upward in defeat. “There’s nowhere I could run to.”
“He has a mistress.” I blurted.
She slowly blinked. “How did you find out?”
I glanced down at the quilt in my arms, at my fingers anxiously kneading the soft yellow fabric choked with an ivy pattern. “I overheard him.” The words drifted apart as a frown creased my forehead. My gaze sliced upwards. “You know?” I breathed out in astonishment.
She nodded. “I’m quite happy for him to have a mistress.”
“But why?”
“I’m well aware of what his tastes are like in bed.” The corners of her mouth turned down, and a shudder ran through her shoulders, making her beautiful dress shimmer. She stole the quilt from me, spinning away, and I followed her into my bedroom.
She flicked the quilt over the top sheet. I rounded the bed, helping her straighten and smooth it out. “So why marry him?”
“For our House.”
It made me so mad. I tugged the quilt a little too hard, pulling it from her grip. For our House. Really what she was saying was, for our father, to keep his position as leader of all the Houses secure.
She adjusted the quilt over to her side and I crawled onto the bed, patting it, inviting her to join me. Evvie glanced at the door, then back to me. I wondered if she was considering how much her absence would displease Corné. Still, she kicked off her heels, and the mattress dipped as she settled herself into the fluffy pillows beside me. We lay face to face.
“If you could…would you marry someone else?” I wished, more than anything, I could gift her that. However, this was a dangerous and futile path to take, wishing for things beyond our means. We both knew it.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she rolled over onto her back, her gaze drifting up to the ceiling as she considered my question. “A Crowther,” she replied with a quick sideways glance. We both burst into a fit of laughter that lasted so long that it made my belly ache. Because no one wanted to marry into that dark family.
Finally, our giggling died down, both of us wiping away the tears of mirth that wet our cheeks. Evvie became somber and answered truthfully. “No point in even contemplating that question, Nelle.” Her smile was tight. “We are what we are—”
“Wychthorns.”
That we were. We had no say in what direction our lives would take. Our father cloistered us on the estate. We were treasured possessions only to use to gain a strategic alignment in Houses.
“There’s so many of them,” I whispered, thinking back to all those Pellans crowded into my mother’s favorite room.
She snuggled deeper into the pillow, her glossy burnished hair sliding over her shoulder. “The Pellans?” At my nod. “You should see how many cousins they have. Oodles.”
I let out a despairing sigh. “I hardly see you anymore.” It popped out of nowhere, surprising even me.
She made a face and flicked my nose so hard I flinched, batting her hand away. “I haven’t gone anywhere, silly. I’m still here.”
Misery tightened its hold inside my chest. Trying to hide my hurt from her, I fiddled with the necklace I wore as a bracelet. “You and Momma…you’ve been caught up with planning this engagement party, the wedding…” Gods, I knew I sounded like a petulant child. When I glanced back up, Evvie was smiling, but that smile faded as she took in the anguish pinching my face.
Her mouth slackened in sadness.
I knew why.
Her fingers laced with mine, and I squeezed her hand. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered, my voice breaking a little.
We only had a few more months together before she’d marry Corné. She’d be his wife, and I’d lose my best friend. Since the announcement of her engagement, I’d been losing her day by day. She was too busy deciding which flavor of wedding cake, which flowers—roses or calla lily—and trying to decide upon the perfect shade of white for her dress, to spend time with me.
“I’ll miss you too.” She tucked a lock of damp hair behind my ear. “I’ll find a way to visit you at their House.”
My nose wrinkled. I didn’t understand. “Their House?”
She sat up, smoothing the fabric of her gown over folded knees. “The Crowthers,” she said, shooting me a funny look.
Oh, right, I was turning twenty next month. Supposedly Graysen and I would marry and instead of being cloistered on this estate, I’d be trapped on his. I rolled my eyes at her. “Graysen’s not going to marry me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Well, to start, there’s no talk of engagement or wedding plans, that’s why.”
That stupid wedding contract we’d signed meant nothing. I’d turn twenty, and I’d make Graysen let me go—he’d prefer that over me making his life miserable—and he would because he’d never wanted to marry me in the first place. He’d told me that in the aviary five years ago. I was secure knowing that there would be no wedding because I’d ensure it. That’s why I wasn’t worried whatsoever about turning twenty.
Evvie rose her hip, digging around in her skirt pocket, and pulled out a half-folded envelope. “This came for you today.” She wagged it before me, drawing it away as my fingers tried to pinch and claim it.
Excitement overshadowed the impending loss of Evvie to the Pellans. She let me have the envelope—opened and addressed to her—but inside was a smaller unopened envelope addressed to me. Someone had been sending me letters for the past few months. They sent them to me through my elder sister. Smart. Because who would know me to send a letter? And so far, my father had never discovered this secret correspondence.
I had no idea who it was.
Danne had crossed my mind often. We’d become friends around the same month the letters started arriving.
I opened up the envelope, wondering what had been sent this time. Out slipped a tidily folded menu from a place called Mad Monks. They’d circled something on the menu—pancakes with sliced mango and whipped cream and a large hot chocolate.
There was a letter too, scribbled on a napkin with neat handwriting.
I don’t usually eat this kind of shit.
My secret pen pal was rather uncouth with their choice of words.
Not the best pancakes I’d ever eaten, nor the best hot chocolate. But the company was entertaining. A family sat across from me in a booth and the youngest kid, maybe four years old, had a fucking meltdown of biblical proportions. His pancakes weren’t as big as his parent’s. Dropped the F-Bomb several times, much to his mother’s embarrassment.
I smiled, reading it one more time, before handing it to Evvie to peruse. I loved receiving these letters. I liked the small things. Not the big obvious things. But ordinary everyday life that often went unnoticed. I’d spent almost all my life trapped on my family estate and I longed to be part of the world that thrived outside the gates locking me in here.
Someone else might have written about where Mad Monks was located and what it looked like. How long it had been there and who owned it. Why it was called Mad Monks.
But I liked the observations my one-sided pen pal wrote to me about. Treasured moments of a simpler life.
Over the last few months, they’d sent me a tiny sea-shell from a Florida beach; a New York subway ticket; a dried flower from a guerrilla garden growing in the cracked pavement by a set of traffic lights. I kept them all in a box on my dresser. I enjoyed having them there, to pick up and wonder what sort of story they held, ponder on who sent them and why.
“I have to go,” Evvie said, handing back the letter. She leaned close to press a kiss on my temple. “See you in the morning. We’ll do breakfast. Promise.”
I clutched her arm. “Stay.” I just wanted my sister, and I’d rather she stayed than return to that arrogant, chauvinistic pig.
“Corné—”
“Fuck, Corné!”
At my choice of words, Evvie shot me a look—somewhere between disappointed and shocked. “Nelle, I swear Crowther is a bad influence.”
“Corné doesn’t need you. I do.” I pouted, giving her my best puppy-dog face.
Besides, I wanted a distraction from my mind. Before she arrived, it had been filled with Graysen. With those tattoos. Some of them comprised words—a tiny script, in a language I didn’t recognize. Inscribed on a magnificent chest—
No, don’t go there.
But I had. I couldn’t get it out my head, his glorious body, how he felt, how I felt when he’d—
Stop it, now.
Evvie leaned over to brush the strands of hair tenderly from my forehead. “Get some sleep.” She slipped into her heels and switched off all the lights as she left, leaving the curtains to my bedroom open so moonlight cast its illumination inside to blend with the golden glow of the night light I slept with ever since I was eight years old. I reached up and flicked on the string of fairy lights twined around my wooden headboard. Sliding between the sheets, I closed my eyes, trying not to think of Graysen Crowther. And failed dismally.
I rolled over to give my pillow a few whacks, imagining Graysen’s smug face as I pummeled it. And that’s when I heard it—heard something.
I sat upright, cocking my head, listening.
A soft shuffling sound came from behind the door that adjoined my quarters to a guest bedroom beyond. The bedroom was empty. Would always be empty. The Pellans were situated in the western wing. But clearly, someone was in there.
The eastern wing was mine, and mine alone. No one was permitted down here. So who the hells would be in the room next to mine?
I hopped out of bed and snatched up my silky robe, poking my arms through the sleeves as I stormed toward the adjoining door.