Chapter 31
Nelle
Ithrew myself at my father, and he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground and swinging me around.
“Nelle,” he rasped hoarsely, tucking his chin into the crook of my neck, and I did the same, his salt-and-pepper hair tickling my cheek.
He lowered me carefully to my feet, and we stayed there, holding each other, not speaking, just breathing each other in.
My soul sighed in contentment to be back in his arms. I pressed my face to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and the tears came.
A wail of wretched joy tore out of me, a stream of tears soaking the fine wool of his suit.
He drew me closer and rested his cheek on the crown of my head. Patting me gently, he made the same soothing sounds he used when I was a child and upset, my body shuddering as I wept.
Eventually the tears subsided, and he pulled back. His warm hands cupped my wet cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asked, brushing away the droplets with a sweep of his thumbs.
I nodded jerkily, sniffling.
Anguish pulled his eyebrows upward and quivered his chin. “I thought you’d died. I thought they’d killed you.”
“It was me. All me.” I hiccupped as fresh tears spilled, swiping at them with my fingertips. “I will never bow to a Crowther.”
Pride brightened his blue eyes. “Gods, you and your wild temper.”
A laugh spluttered out of me. The absurdity of it all. How I’d trapped Jett, commanding those bone-fingers to tighten.
A tentative touch brushed the side of my head.
I turned to find my mother beside us. Her frail hand hovered over my puffy hair before gliding down to my shoulder, careful of the bone-chains.
“Oh, Nelle, my sweet child. I’ve worried so much about you.
” Her gaze cut to my father, torment ravaging her tear-blotched face as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I hate this, Byron. I hate it.”
His expression hardened. “You gave them Brangwene’s Hjarte, Marissa.”
“Someone had to,” she bit back with more life in her than I’d ever seen in over a decade.
Accusation threaded throughout her tone, but I was on my father’s side.
Even with the Crowthers’ olive branch of the replica, the real Hjarte in their possession meant they would still hold power over my father after my death at the Witches Ball.
My mother sniffed and tucked her handkerchief under the cuff of her sleeve. “They gave us an imitation.”
“Which we weren’t expecting,” he shot back. His hands fell away from my face as he spun toward her, anger scorching his stern features. “And we still don’t know if it will pass scrutiny.”
I didn’t want this reunion to fall into a bitter argument. Neither of them noticed when I stepped back, easing out of their orbit. I rose onto my toes and back down again, exhaling hard as I tried to find the right words. Instead, they burst out of me. “I know what I am!”
Both of them swung my way.
I flung out my arms. “Surprise! I’m a wyrm!”
Fright flickered across my mother’s features.
She stumbled a reflexive step back. A small twist of disappointment twined through me.
She’d been stepping away from me my entire life.
While she’d always been afraid of me, my father had been the opposite, and true to nature, he stepped forward, reaching for my hand and clasping it gently.
He’d always embraced my otherness, protecting me from the very moment I’d been born a strangely fussy babe.
“A wyrm?” he breathed, astonishment widening his eyes.
“I’m not a wyrm,” I clarified, grinning as I tapped my chest. “The wyrm is in here. Part of me, but separate. Its own entity, and for some fucked-up reason, tethered to me.”
“Nelle!” my mother admonished at my vulgar language.
I ignored her, scrunching my nose as I glanced toward the ceiling, checking if I’d forgotten anything. My grin brightened. “Oh! And it’s not-quite-living either.”
A frown creased my father’s forehead, his sharp mind already dissecting the possibilities. “A wraith? Something like Sage? A wraith-wyrm?”
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head. I’d never thought of it as a wraith creature before, and it didn’t feel right. Its nature was different from my wraith-wolf. “It’s formed of fire and breathes moonlight and sunlight.”
“How did a wyrm attach itself to you?”
I shrugged.
Who the hells knew?
A subtle change came over my father. One that both confused and worried me.
Fear shadowed his strained features. “Nelle, are the Crowthers hurting you?”
And gods, that was such a loaded question.
I pursed my lips, thinking how to answer.
After what Jett had revealed earlier, I finally understood the brothers’ misplaced hatred.
Valarie had manipulated them from the start.
And aside from my confrontation with Jett after the Brunnie incident, the brothers had never harmed me.
They’d had countless opportunities at the Keep, yet they’d left me alone to wander about undisturbed.
Their actions spoke louder than their empty threats.
I’d been safe enough these past weeks, but with Valarie back at the Keep, I wasn’t sure what came next. However, I wasn’t going to burden him with the truth of the Witches Ball. My life wasn’t ending there—I’d make sure of it. I’d also find a way to bend the Alverac…somehow.
I shook my head.
Though his posture eased, he eyed me shrewdly. “But what about Graysen? Has he hurt you?”
Intrigue had me slowly straightening my spine at the realization there’d been yet another shift in my father. It was so nuanced that I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking at. The fear had faded, and now it seemed he patiently awaited my response as if he desired confirmation on something.
“No,” I said honestly.
He didn’t look surprised. Or relieved either. He studied my face, searching for any hint of a lie, any attempt to shield him. But Graysen would never hurt me. Betray me, yes, for his mother. But not hurt me.
And looking at my parents, the truth settled heavily.
How far had they gone for me?
How far would I go for them?
I was already doing it by sparing them the knowledge of the Witches Ball.
“I’m sort of Graysen’s roomie?” I said, my voice rising in question.
A roomie with benefits. Gloriously wicked benefits.
Heat flushed my cheeks as the memory of our sensual bathroom tumble flashed through my mind.
Hells, so good. But that part of our relationship was staying firmly unspoken.
“He’s actually been respectful and thoughtful.
And I have Sage too.” And a spark of warmth and delicate fluttering stirred in my chest at the thought of Graysen.
“But he kidnapped you,” my mother said in bewilderment.
My father’s gaze cut to hers. He spoke quietly, gently, but with iron running beneath it. “How can they kidnap something they already own?”
My head snapped toward him, and I blinked slowly as confusion fell away and anger arose.
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to fight it.
But as the anger died down to smoldering embers, I knew he was right.
He’d spoken plainly and I couldn’t argue the point.
I had signed myself over to the Crowthers years ago. They did indeed own me.
I sighed and hitched a shoulder. “The worst I’ve been treated was here, at the Emporium. And what happened out there was a ploy. They never intended to follow through with it. They needed—”
“To force me into handing over Brangwene’s Hjarte.”
Triumph ignited inside me, burning through my bloodstream. “But I broke them instead.” Caidan and Kenton had shattered under my might. I’d even fractured Jett. He’d taken off, clearly unhinged by my crazed actions.
My father cupped my cheek, warmth in his touch. “They clearly didn’t count on you, my wild child.”
“I’d rather die standing on my feet than bend the knee and bow before anyone.”
A surprised, hoarse laugh burst from him as he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re certainly my daughter, through and through.”
I took both his hands in mine, squeezing gently, my grin broadening to match his own. Both of us were cut from the same steel.
My father slipped his hand free and moved to my side, throwing an arm casually over my shoulder. “I have something for you,” he said mysteriously, guiding me toward the cluster of couches.
As I sat, the cushions dipping beneath my weight, my mother settled on my other side, angling closer so she could run a shaky hand along my temple, brushing the tendrils aside before stroking her palm gently down my back.
My father tugged at a pant leg, then lowered himself to kneel in front of me. He winked. “You’re the only one I’d bend the knee for.”
A huff of laughter escaped me, my cheeks aching from how much I’d been smiling.
He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out something that chimed delicately, like a stream of steady hail against a windowpane. “I had this made for you after I realized yours broke at Evvie’s engagement ceremony.”
A necklace dangled from his pinched fingertips. A necklace exactly like the one he’d given me as a child. Adamere beads strung like pearls, the long strand twisting and swaying, scattering fractured light.
A wistful pang speared my heart. The only thing missing was the small silver charm I’d cherished since receiving it with the very first letter from my secret pen pal.
He’d written to me about the Night Bazaar and the Firebreather who performed there nightly.
Inside that envelope had been a tiny silver sparrow.
I’d attached it to my adamere bracelet, wanting it keep it close always.
Internally, I sighed. Maybe one day I’d be given another.
My father took my hand and wrapped the long necklace carefully around my wrist in looping coils before clicking the fastenings together. Gorgeous coils of silvery beads draped beautifully down my arm. Overwhelming love for him poured into my heart. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “That’s to keep your temper in check,” he murmured, pulling back. He grinned, reaching out to chuck me under my chin. “Who’d have thought we’ve been trying to tame a wyrm all this time.”
I laughed too. Madness, when you thought about it.
My mother spoke before I could. “Graysen? He’s a tamer, isn’t he?”
I turned toward her, nodding, curious what she and my father would make of it.
She looked down at the dark velvet skirt molded to her legs, rubbing a hand over her thigh as she gave it further thought.
She lifted her gaze, brows knitting. “Tabitha told me years ago that Graysen was born with black tamer eyes, but I never thought anything of it. I didn’t know much about the Crowthers or their history. ”
I would have told them the Crowthers once held the same Great House seat we did, but my father was already speaking.
“I thought it was just a rumor. A myth,” he murmured, eyes sharp and mind racing. His tone became more businesslike. “And has this affected your relationship?”
In all ways, I almost said.
Instead, I poked a bit of rope, and my father leaned closer, inspecting what also encircled my neck besides the Bonefall. “This is Zrenyth’s rope. A nifty little Crowther trick to nullify the wyrm while I’m wearing it.”
It was a swift reaction. My father glanced toward the door Valarie had left through earlier.
I swallowed back the bewilderment at the lost, haunted expression straining his features.
My mother followed his gaze, and the sadness that swept across her face startled me.
She leaned forward and placed her hand over his, where it rested on his bent knee.
“Byron, if Nelle’s to survive in that House with Valarie, she needs to know what she’s up against.”
My father shot her a look, and the sorrow in it clenched my heart painfully.
“I don’t—”
“This is more than avenging Tabitha,” my mother cut in.
My pulse stuttered. What else could there be to all of this?
“We had a good life, Byron,” she carried on, her tone softening. “We understood one another and gave each other what we needed to survive our union in Great House. I’ll always be grateful to you for that. For being the one to gift it to me first.”
“Marissa, I don’t think…” he tried again, anguish tightening his stricken features.
Her voice became flinty and cutting. “You broke me, Byron. But what you did to Valarie was far worse.”
She swiveled toward me. “Nelle, sweetheart, Valarie was never like this. I don’t recognize the bitter, twisted woman she’s become.”
My father bowed his head, kneading his forehead with his thumb and fingers. His hand shielded his expression, but the torment in his voice was unmistakable. “Marissa, what good will this do?”
My mother ignored him and took my hands. “Before we married, your father and Valarie were in love.”
It felt like someone punched the air right out of my lungs. My breath whistled out like a deflating balloon.
WHAT.
THE.
FUCK?!
My gaze bounced between them. My father dropped his hand from his face, but said nothing. Not a single word to deny it. Nothing at all. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.
A soft swoosh and creak broke the silence. The door to the hallway had opened, and I twisted around to find Valarie standing in the threshold, candlelight wavering around her as if stirred by a breeze.
Hells, had she been listening?
The shock pinching her features told me she hadn’t. She’d simply walked in at the worst possible moment.
“We’re l-l-leaving. Now!” she barked, flustered and stumbling over the words.
Chaos erupted as the cadre stormed forward. I was still reeling from my mother’s revelation, too stunned to defend myself as two guards shoved my father aside and seized my arms.
They hauled me upright and dragged me toward the door.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked, kicking and twisting. “No! You can’t do this! I haven’t had enough time—Ferne promised me two hours!”