Chapter Thirty-Eight
ELODIE
Preston stepped from the shadows of a tall tree wearing the same gleaming black fox mask I saw in the great hall earlier.
His blonde hair, for once, behaved, swept back in a way that made him look infuriatingly perfect.
But his eyes—those deep green eyes—held a wildness in them, something untamed and alight with mischief… or warning. I couldn’t tell which.
“Do I know you?” Abraxas asked, his arms folding across his chest, as if he couldn’t be bothered by the shift in atmosphere.
Now he decided to care about only talking to people he knew? What a twit.
Preston’s chuckle slid beside me like a blade in silk. “Fortunately, you don’t.”
Abraxas’s eyes narrowed, then widened, just slightly in the hollows of his mask, but enough to notice.
As if something both scared him and fascinated him at the same time.
For a moment, he looked like he might say something else.
His posture shifted like a wind-swept curtain.
His eyes fixed on Preston a moment too long, and then he stepped back.
A moment later, his dark red boots whispered across the gravel, his form melting into the shadows as he strode back toward the manor without another word.
“Dreadful guest you’ve got there,” Preston said with mock revulsion. “And the party…was the theme, Dante’s purgatory?”
I snorted, resting my back against the tree’s thick trunk, hooking my fingers into its cracks, and letting out a long breath. A month ago, his arrival would have tightened every muscle in my body. But now? Now I was almost glad he found me. Even more so, given he didn’t seem drunk anymore.
I traced the edge of the mirror beside me. “I thought you would be in the middle of the dancefloor.” I wiped my damp palms onto the silk of my gown. “Why the garden?”
“Unfortunately, I have a strong distaste for sharing the spotlight.” He flashed a grin sharp enough to match his mask.
Why wasn’t I surprised at all?
His smile softened. “So,” he said. “I thought I’d bring the spotlight here, to you instead. Birthday and all.” He extended his hand, and my heart, the traitorous thing, jumped into its own dance.
“That’s still sharing,” I pointed out, slipping my cold hands into his. Goosebumps spread over my body from the warmth of his touch, while he placed his free hand on my waist, pulling me in and leaving only a small gap between the fabric of our clothes.
He nodded, golden strands of hair catching in the fairy lights.
“Some things are worth sharing,” he murmured, his breath clouding into the cold air. “Don’t you think?”
The lights above flickered in his eyes, emerald mirroring stars and secrets. The world around us faded as we moved together, tenderly, through the frosty grass, gliding like ghosts under the night sky. Like spiders sewing enchanted webs, or forgotten leaves drifting silently on a midnight breeze.
For one brief moment, the endless bickering between us dissolved. It was just us. Two fractured pieces breathing in sync.
“Do you still hate me?” Preston asked, pulling me closer, our noses nearly brushing.
My lips parted, then shut, my teeth clicking together too hard.
“I do,” I said, barely.
It wasn’t a lie, yet it felt like one. He was the one who hated me the moment I stepped foot in the manor. He was the one who slowly forced me to hate him myself. But at that moment I hated him a little less. And I didn’t know how to feel about that.
“Good,” he whispered.
His hand slid lower on my hip, and I forgot how to inhale.
I caught glimpses of us in the mirrors—two phantoms, caught mid-spin.
The fox and his prey. The black swan and her shadow.
Our steps slowed and Preston used his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding mine, to lift off his mask.
Then, gently, he did the same with mine, letting both fall to the frozen ground.
Our faces were left bare in the moonlight. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long box wrapped in green velvet, placing it in my hands.
My heart faltered. Was he giving me a gift? My fingers trembled as I held it, and the breath I drew in was shaky.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice dry and brittle, my throat tight.
“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” His tone was warm, almost amused.
I wet my lips and slowly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled like a secret, was a necklace of gold and emerald. A green pendant shimmered at its centre, like it had been plucked from the heart of a forest. I stared, struck silent.
“Why are you giving me this?” The words tumbled out.
Preston blinked, a flicker of confusion passing over his face. “I already said—”
“Yes,” I interrupted. He had. But people don’t give each other gifts like this…not to someone they hate.
He smiled, softer this time. “The beautiful thing about gifts, poison,” he said, lifting the necklace with delicate fingers, “is that you don’t have to understand them. You just have to accept them.”
He stepped behind me and placed it around my neck.
The pendant settled against my skin like a second heartbeat.
His sleeve shifted, and I caught a glint of my bracelet fastened around his wrist. The butterflies flew harder in my stomach.
But something else caught my attention as well.
A golden ring with a green crystal embedded into its centre was resting on his little finger. Since when did he have a ring?
“Do you remember what you said after I pulled you from the river?” His warm breath tickled my ear, pulling me from my wander.
“You mean when you followed me into the woods?” I swallowed, my chest burning from the inside.
“And saved your life?” A pause. “For the first time.”
I noticed he didn’t deny following me. I rolled my eyes at the dark sky. “I said a lot of things then.”
“You did.” He didn’t touch me, but I could feel him everywhere, like air. “But you also said that there are very few things that deserve your tears.”
I nodded, remembering my words. I meant them still.
“Promise me you’ll never waste them on me.”
At first, I thought he was joking, but there was seriousness in his tone. And when I didn’t answer instantly, instead of mocking, it was silence that followed his words.
“Why would I cry for you?” My voice cracked, despite my best effort. My brows knotted. I turned around, forcing us to face each other. Even though he sounded like it, Preston didn’t look any different. He lifted a hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Will you promise me?” he asked again, even softer. Like a plea.
Something was off. I just didn’t know what it was. I sighed.
“I promise. Although, I really don’t think you need reassurance. It’s fairly obvious I won’t.”
A crooked smile bloomed on his lips like it made him truly happy to hear that. He stepped past me, already moving away.
“Preston,” I called his name and he froze, turning around. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow, then the smile returned, smug and irreverent. “The first time you say my name and you choose this moment? You really don’t want me to enjoy life, do you, poison?”
I grimaced, tension ebbing away. He looked the same, so why did he feel so different? Why did a lump grow in my chest at the sight of him leaving?
“Why do you keep calling me poison?” I asked.
He tilted his head, then motioned towards me with one of his long fingers, something shifting in his gaze. “Come here.” There was something new in his voice. Something dangerous.
I stepped forward, letting my curiosity take control. He raised his hand and brushed my bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes darkening.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured, leaning close, forcing my chin higher. “You’re poisonous, heiress. You’re the fruit no one should touch…and yet, everyone still wants a taste.”
My lips parted. My lungs filled with the scent of him—meadows and pine and trouble.
Then he whispered, “Lux tenebras eodem modo desiderat, quo tenebrae lucem.”
The words settled over my chest with quiet intensity. Like stones dragging me under. Like goodbye.
“What did you say?”
But instead of answering, his lips grazed mine, and time forgot how to move. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a whisper. A vow. A promise. Of what I didn’t know. But the feeling, it rooted into my skin, into my flesh.
Something cold softly landed on my cheek, and I reached for him, only to grasp thin air. My eyes opened to my own reflections staring back from the mirrors.
I was alone. My fingers touched my lips. The warmth still lingered, his scent clinging to the night air. And the pendant—green and gleaming—rested against my chest.