Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Behold!” her uncle said, throwing open the dungeon doors. “Your father awaits.”
Red, red, red was the terrible light that barely illuminated that woebegotten room.
His dear features, so still behind the thick vermilion.
His eyes open, yet dull. His mouth frozen in an awful rictus of disbelief.
Her beloved father, immobilized in an impossible coffin constructed of purest ruby . . .
—The Dragon and the Blue Star by Analise Crewe
Drakefell Castle smelled divine. Cook had outdone himself, preparing what seemed to Ana’s nervously assessing eyes to be an absolute masterpiece of culinary achievement.
There were to be ten palate-stimulating courses, and the crowning moment, the pièce de résistance, was a towering, tiered flummery, prepared by Ana herself.
She’d labored intensely over the blanched almonds, vigorously mashing them in a mortar with careful drops of rosewater, as if she were pounding some sense into Dex’s head with each jab of the pestle.
The boiling and straining had been a whole other set of painstaking maneuvers.
At one point, it appeared as if the calf’s foot stock had not helped the dish set properly, and despair almost overwhelmed her.
The kitchen staff, breath bated, watched her gently, bravely, lift the conical mold away from the jelly, and to everyone’s amazement and pride the dish held.
It sat, quivering slightly, upon a magnificent platter surrounded by a festive garland of flowers and foliage, on a sideboard, ready to be served once the meal had been consumed.
She hoped they’d all be hungry.
She hoped Dex would like it.
She hoped Dex would not skewer her or her guests on the points of the rapiers that hung upon the dining hall walls.
Tessie, with Cloris and Agnes as backup, had put as much care into dressing Ana as she’d put into the flummery, sensing that this was a Very Important Occasion.
The woman looking back at her from the mirror was quite pretty in her wild rose–colored silk, the deep pink hue pairing unusually well with her ruddy curls.
But she was pale, oh so pale. She’d bitten her lips, a nervous habit from childhood that had reappeared with a vengeance, until they were as rosy as her dress.
A small crease of worry that she’d never seen before had taken up residence between her brows.
Do you know what you’re doing? Ana asked her reflection. Will this end in disaster? There was no answer forthcoming, so she turned away in a flurry of pink skirts. Her guests were due any minute, Dex likely to be not far behind.
She was at the door when they arrived and ushered them in herself.
Celestia was looking calm and ethereal in indigo taffeta, Rupert a bit disheveled, cravat askew and waistcoat rumpled.
His brown hair was standing high off his head, as if he’d raked nervous fingers through it many, many times.
They repaired to the drawing room for a fortifying beverage, all ears cocked for the sound of Dex in the front hall.
Polite conversation was blessedly easy with Rupert around.
He was a fount of ready observations; they flowed from his lips and required very little in the way of thought.
Ana strove to match him, and soon they were volleying observations on the weather, road conditions between the estate and the castle, and the fate of the new foal in Rupert’s stables (it had lived, reported Rupert triumphantly) back and forth, while Celestia nodded and smiled as required.
Ana was grateful for their willingness to be there, to indulge her possibly ill-fated experiment.
They wanted this dinner to be a success even more than she, and she was grateful for the solidarity.
She wished with all her heart that she might be able to keep these amiable and friendly people in her life, add them to her tiny list of family.
If only Dex would be reasonable . . . She caught Rupert’s eye and knew he was thinking the same thought.
He gave her a reassuring grin and a shrug, as if to say, It’s out of our hands now.
As she returned the grin, she heard McArdle hurrying to the front door, the large metal hinges of which groaned laboriously as it opened and admitted the duke.
His deep voice greeting McArdle, McArdle’s officious answer. Heavy footsteps growing nearer.
Ana stood up.
Dex walked into the room.
His eyes flew first to Ana, with that hungry look she couldn’t help but reciprocate, her insides melting instantaneously. He started across the room toward her, stopping abruptly as he noticed the other two figures in the room. He stood still. Stared. Swung his head back to Ana, nostrils flaring.
“Your doing, I suppose?”
“Dex! Welcome home. I thought we’d have a drink before we dine?
Cook’s prepared a feast. And I’ve made flummery!
Haven’t lost my touch after all these years, although I admit I was terrified it wouldn’t come out of the mold.
Looked a bit sticky on the sides. But it did, it slid right out, and it’s glorious. ” I’m babbling, she thought.
Rupert chimed in. “Dex, I hope you’ll allow us to stay.
Perhaps we might converse as a family for a while.
We only want to get acquainted with your bride, who is as charming as we could have wished for.
Would that be all right with you, just a conversation?
And then, of course, maybe some of the famous flummery? ”
Ana shot him a grateful look. “Yes, Dex, please! I went to so much trouble—I only want to become acquainted with my new sister- and brother-in-law. And I thought . . . I thought you might—”
“Rupert.” Dex cut through the chatter with the broadsword of his voice. “You were banned from Drakefell. I haven’t changed my mind since. You will do me the service of leaving at once.”
Rupert’s face blanched.
Ana realized she was clenching her fists so tightly that her nails were carving little crescents into her palms. “Dex, no! You can’t. For me.”
“For you,” Dex said through a clenched jaw, “I will not throw him out bodily. Just for you. Is that enough, Ana? Am I reformed enough for your taste?”
Ana’s heart sank. The wounds were too deep.
His heart clenched as fiercely as his fists.
What had she been thinking? She should have talked to him first. Eased him into the idea.
Chipped away at his resistance until he allowed her to invite his brother to dinner if only to silence her.
But no, she’d forged ahead, straight into the maw of danger, as she always did.
And now both she and her newly found family would pay the price.
“Deckard.” Celestia rose. There was a ring of authority in her usually mellow voice.
The queen was speaking. She walked slowly toward the duke, the dark blue of her skirt like a column of night sky.
Ana held her breath; she sensed Rupert doing the same.
Dex appeared to be frozen to the spot, a wince of pain etched on his face.
“Deckard, enough. You are justified in your anger. We made a mistake by coming here. We hoped, as we will always continue to hope, that the hurt and betrayal you feel might lessen over time, enough for you to allow us back into your life. In whatever capacity you are comfortable with, to whatever degree you are able. But you are still living in the past. You became stuck in time on that battlefield, and have never managed to become unstuck, and I grieve for you.”
“Enough. Celestia, stop.” Dex’s eyes were hollow pits.
“Yes. I grieve for the lack of you, in my life and in the life of your brother. Look at me. I am not the person you thought I was. I was not the right woman for you. You’ve always been wrong about me.
It wasn’t your physical scars that daunted me, it was your mental ones.
Scars that possibly, if I were a better person, stronger and more patient, I could have helped to heal.
But I am not that person. And now I can see that you have that person in your life—Ana.
She is a treasure. So strong, so caring and capable.
She is fighting for you. She was brave enough to seek us out, to invite us to your home, to risk your good will toward her on a chance for healing, for all of us.
Isn’t that a beautiful thing, Deckard? Can’t you at least acknowledge that? ”
“She does whatever she wants. She’s incorrigible.” The hint of a tortured smile, quirking one corner of his mouth.
“And that’s what you want. What you need.
A fighter. We’ll leave Drakefell, Dex. We won’t push any further.
But we want to know Ana, if she wants to know us.
And we will always be waiting, just down the hill, ready to welcome our brother back to us.
When you are ready. Which I think may be sooner than any one of us imagine, if my intuition is correct.
” And with that enigmatic pronunciation, Celestia glided to Rupert’s side, linked her arm through his, and led him out of the room.
Ana watched them go, tears filling her eyes so that the whole room swam. “Dex.” Her voice sounded tiny and vulnerable to her own ears. “I only wanted to help.”
“And I have told you so many times there’s no helping me. Some things are broken forever.”
Even as he spoke the words, his heart yearned to take them back. He watched shadows stripe her face, obscuring the green fire that usually lit her eyes.
“You’re still angry with them for betraying you,” she whispered. “After all this time.”
“I’m not angry, Ana. I don’t . . .” he continued, dragging the words out, as if feeling them out for accuracy.
“. . . hate or . . . blame them anymore, in any way. I see that what Celestia did was right. I was an arrogant, entitled, cold duke. I was raised to be that way. My brother was the kind and humble one. I always saw it as a weakness in him. She made the right choice.”