Ink of Copper

61. In Which the Truth is Poison

Chapter 61

In Which the Truth is Poison

A fter the fiasco with Maximus and Liam, Ellie avoided the warriors by sticking to her chambers and the little sitting room. All except Liam, who had come by to ask her a favor. Evander hadn’t come looking for her. She thought for sure by now, they’d have breached the divide. He hadn’t explained himself, which must mean some of what Valerius said was true.

Or so she thought.

The sun sank lower across the field outside her window. Rose and gold, purple and indigo streaked across the sky, fading as they rose into the atmosphere. The storm had stopped hours ago as she lessened her grip on her anger. Unanswered questions seeped into her bones, and there were so many of them now. Deep in thought, trying to untangle the sordid mess of what her life had become, a soft rap on the door made her pause.

“Ellie, please open the door.” The wood muffled his request.

Another soft rap.

“Please.”

Sighing, she pulled an afghan over her shoulders, clasping it tighter and plodded across the wood floor to the door.

“What?” she snapped as she swung the door open.

He sighed, as exasperated as she felt.

“I brought us dinner. I thought you might be hungry since you refuse to come to the dining hall.” He held up a large tray with two silver dome-covered plates. Two drinks, silverware, napkins, and a slice of pie rounded out the meal. Her stomach clenched at the smell. She had eaten like a bird the last few days. The coursing of her magic and stress had stolen her appetite almost completely. All the tension and anxiety was wreaking havoc on her body.

“You haven’t eaten. I saw your lunch and breakfast trays. Please allow me in.”

Snorting in defeat, she stepped aside. Silently, she motioned to the table by the fire?. Ellie turned the overstuffed chairs to make a dining area. The way his fingers clenched around the handles of the delicate tray, she was sure it would crumble to dust in his white-knuckled grip. He glanced at her, uncertainty scrawled across his face. After he set the tray down, he didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, so he stood there silently asking permission. She shrugged one shoulder.

Permission granted.

Once seated, she flipped the napkin and nestled it across her thighs. He removed the lids, and steam rolled out from under the dome. His was seasoned chicken, rice of some sort, and vegetables. Hers was the same but with a rolled concoction in the middle of the rice. She eyed it and arched an eyebrow.

“I had Cook make you something,” he said, shrugging and mumbling into his plate as he set the tray to rights.

Ellie’s heart squeezed. Even now, he thought of her, knowing she was angry. Grabbing a roll, she ripped off a chunk and buttered it, popping it into her mouth. They sat in strained silence for several minutes; the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the clinking of silverware on china. She studied him as he ate. His long, graceful fingers gripped his knife and fork, and his elegant movements were purposeful and refined. He looked every bit the duke he was . . . er . . . is or something. Ellie wasn’t sure how that worked. Olympus had ways of screwing with biology. She looked up from his fingers and met his gaze across the table.

Those deep sea-green eyes made her breath catch like they had that first night playing dominoes. Tiny butterflies broke out in her stomach, fluttering and crashing into one another. His hands poised mid-action as if he couldn’t cut his meat and watch her simultaneously. Opening his mouth, he shut it, pursing his lips together.

She met his gaze with a raise of her brow. “Something you want to say?”

He shook his head and took a breath, and she watched as that muscle, his annoyance muscle, jerked. His nostrils flared on the next intake of breath.

“Out with it,” she snapped, harsher than she meant to.

“Do you really think I would keep the dagger? That I could harm you? After everything?” he said, his face softening. “I couldn’t on the ship, and I can’t now.”

“I don’t know what to believe.” She ran her necklace through its chain and looked down at her lap.

“You tried to get me to stab you, do you remember?”

She shook her head.

“When your magic overtook you when you”—he paused as her eyes went to his now covered shoulder where the scar remained—“you tried then. You turned the blade on yourself, enough to bleed, enough to fool Athena, but I never took the hilt.”

She nodded. She knew by the men’s faces that Valerius had lied. Valerius was heartless and angry; lying came with the territory. It’s the other part of his tale she was having trouble forgetting. Could Evander kill his wife and child for a chance at this life? From what she knew of him, what very little she knew, he wasn’t capable. And yet, he had been afraid to show her his true form. She fussed with her hair and one side of the afghan slipped off her shoulder and into the crook of her arm. His eyes followed every movement.

“Hurting you would kill me, Ellie. I thought . . . I thought Valerius needed you to release his mate. I thought he was going to kill you. When I realized you were gone, I blamed myself. I should have kept you safe. I was terrified of losing something so precious.”

His words were quiet, a whisper in a fireside confessional. All the fight from earlier had gone out of him. His eyes held hers, soulful, pleading. Ellie let out a whoosh of air, deflating any bravado she had mustered. Closing her eyes, she clasped her hands in her lap.

“How did you become a nymph?”

She breathed the question into the room, her eyes closed, her back straight. When she opened them, Evander gave the impression of heading to the gallows. His face ashen and sunken, his lips in a frown. He sat back, placing his knife and fork crossed at the top of his plate, and looked as though the very idea of telling her made him ill. Ellie braced for a story that would change her perspective of the man before her.

“I didn’t want to tell you when we met. When you came here. I didn’t want any part of that life to touch this one.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me with disgust.”

“So, it’s true. You killed her?”

They were both silent for a few moments. Both took in the other as if silence alone could bridge the gap that now seemed to stand between them. A chasm stretched for miles, yet they sat three feet apart. When he spoke, his voice was shaky.

“No. I didn’t kill Ann, but I may as well have.” He put his hands in his lap and met her stare over the table, his meal forgotten. “I have blamed myself. I have blamed myself for two centuries now. Had I been able to protect her, I may have been able to stop her.” He sighed heavily. “My life would have been so very different. I never would have joined Max’s company. I never would have become what I am. I would have died years ago—”

“And we never would have met,” she interrupted him.

He held her stare, his face unreadable. “Right”—he nodded—“we never would have met. But, Ellie, just as I would never hurt you, I could never hurt her. I need you to know that. Valerius is sadistic. Everything he touches becomes tainted. I didn’t kill her; I found her. Ann had—had killed herself. I sent for the doctor. I tried to save her, save my child, but there was nothing I could do. And my grief over my actions that led to her poisoning sent me to Athena. To drink the elixir, to become what I am. I never wanted to feel that grief again. That is why I joined the Circle, why I took the vow. My actions caused three deaths, and I vowed never again to harm someone innocent.”

Ellie sat there, hands in her lap, searching his face for the truth. Evander knew that after telling her the whole of it, she would never see him the same again. She guarded her emotions behind a curtain of uncertainty. The tether they shared pulled back like a rubber band past its breaking point, ready to snap and send them hurling in opposite directions, away from the comfortable bond they shared.

“What happened?”

Bringing to the surface the flood of emotions he had spent the better part of two centuries trying to forget, he closed his eyes against the onslaught. He found himself transported back to that time, to that house.

“You have to understand something, first and foremost,” he began. “When I was alive—er—human in 1818, marriage was a contract. Ann—Lady Ann DeBourgh—and I had an understanding. Our families were known to each other and traveled in the same circles, so it was expected we would wed. Our parents had arranged it years before she and I had any say in the matter. It was an advantageous marriage for her. I brought my title, security, and position; she brought money. It would never be a love match, and we resigned to accept that fact. We were friendly with one another enough to know we would get on. We were engaged for two years when Ann came to me one evening.”

Evander took a shallow breath. The smells of the kitchen invading his memories, the sound of his shoes on the floor. The warm colors of the walls, that navy color his mother had picked out years before. He could see it before him as if he stood in that place now.

“I found her in the kitchen after taking my sisters to a play. My sisters were in no hurry to marry, although both were out in society, so I frequently came along and played the foreboding and overbearing big brother who scared off any chap looking their way. I was happy to play my part and give away my happiness for theirs. I wanted them to find a love and not a contract. That’s when I found her.”

Her voice was clear in his mind, soft and feminine. She was there, just beyond the shadows of the chamber, standing in the corner of the kitchen, face covered, shoulders stooped, sobbing. Her dark hair pulled back and not in the neat chignon she habitually wore.

“Ann was upset, crying when I found her. She confessed to having an affair with a painter. Sir Elton wasn’t just any painter, but one commissioned by the crown. He possessed money, albeit not as much as me, but he was titled, even if it was only honorary. Even so, their affair was scandalous, given Ann was engaged. I asked her if she wanted to marry Sir Elton, and she confessed she couldn’t. The contract was written to include her dowry; if she chose another, she wouldn’t get a penny. I couldn’t leave her penniless, and she couldn’t marry the one she loved. To make matters worse, Sir Elton had threatened Ann with exposing the affair. We devised a plan, and looking back, it was ill-gotten from the start. I had no way of knowing how badly.

“Ann would stay in my town home alone with me for the evening. She would stay in the guest room, and I in mine. In the morning, she would emerge early enough to be believed, but late enough to be seen. Then, we would go to Gretna Green and be married with a special license. I agreed to give Ann my protection over the scandal. A quick marriage after so long an engagement would have the ton talking, but when her baby came early, it would explain away any question of paternity. I would take the baby in as my own, raise it as my own, and give it my name and title. We were married the next day and spent our first night in my home in the country.”

Ellie touched Evander’s hand, and he jumped. He looked down at her fingers around his own, forgetting she was in the room. Taking in a shallow breath, he continued with the story.

“We agreed our marriage would be in name only. With the details taken care of, Ann was free to live as a protected married woman.”

“Wait, name only?” She gave him a quizzical glance.

“Yes.” Evander nodded.

“What do you mean, name only?”

He tilted his head at her. “What do you assume that means?”

She snorted. “I think it means you never consummated your marriage.”

Evander shrugged a shoulder. “That’s exactly what that means.”

Ellie sat up straighter in her chair and tilted her head side to side, working out the implications.

“Why not?” she finally asked.

“Ellie,” he said, leveling his chin. “Ann was with child.”

“Yes, I understand that.” Confusion set up camp on her features, and Evander didn’t understand why.

“But you married Ann?”

“Yes.”

“And you spent your first night, your honeymoon, so to speak, at your second home.”

It was his turn to look confused. “Yes, but she was pregnant,” he said slowly.

“So?”

“So, she was carrying a child.”

“Yes, I get that. But you were on your honeymoon. Generally, folks on their honeymoon go at it like rabbits.”

Air blew out of his nose in a scoff. “I’m sure that’s true.” Shifting in his chair, he was certain his cheeks were ruddy. “But she was pregnant.” He gestured a belly over his own, hoping miming would help.

“And? You can have sex with pregnant women.”

His mouth dropped open. “Most certainly not.” He placed a hand on his chest, and Ellie choked a laugh at his reaction. He vigorously shook his head.

“No. Women are delicate. They need rest and quiet while carrying a child. Besides, my,”—he looked around them, embarrassed to be having this conversation—“proclivities—”

“Your proclivities?”

He chewed on his bottom lip. “I have a rather specific taste, Ellie. I believe you are somewhat well-versed in those certain proclivities .”

Her eyebrows had drawn together as he spoke, but her face exploded as she chuckled.

“Oh. Sex.”

Evander nodded. “I was told that my likes wouldn’t be something a proper lady would understand.” He cleared his throat. “How encouraging I am is simply not done and more suited for deviant appetites. I wasn’t about to subject Ann to them. She was fragile.”

“But I enjoy your proclivities . Am I not a proper lady? Am I deviant in my appetite? What am I, a woman with loose morals to you?”

He sputtered. That wasn’t what he meant. His ears burned hot as he was sure his entire face was red. “I—I, no. I mean, of course you aren’t. Your response to me, I like it very much—I never—that is—”

She placed her hand over his.

“I’m teasing you,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him. “Whoever told you the way you and I enjoy each other is wrong is, well, wrong. Nothing we do in that bed or anywhere else is deviant. And I thoroughly enjoy your encouragement .” Winking, she continued. “You don’t honestly think women abstain for nine months, do you? It wouldn’t have hurt the baby or the mother. If both are healthy, you can have sex until she gives birth.”

Evander knew his eyes were wide.

“Some women have sex if they’re overdue to induce labor.”

He placed his hand on his chest and gasped. The gesture reminded him of his aunt, who would swoon at every little thing. He felt as though he might.

“Ahh, sex education in the nineteenth century was sorely lacking.” She patted his hand again and smiled. Her first smile in days. It felt like a glimmer of sun after the long storm. She was relaxing the longer they were in each other’s company.

“Go on,” Ellie encouraged. “How did Ann die?”

So stunned by what she told him, he didn’t know if he could continue. How had he gotten this far as a grown man without knowing this? It was beyond reason. He shook his head and continued.

“Ann spent her time with me in London,” he went on but eyed her in case she wanted to drop more bombshells.

“When it came time for her confinement, I sent her to Meadon House a few weeks ahead of me. I stayed to finish business and would close up the townhome for the season, and then join her closer to the birth of our child. We both agreed that if the child were a girl, we would try for a boy to solidify our marriage and secure her child’s future. If the baby was a boy, Ann would live at Meadon House, and I would live in London. Many couples we knew lived apart. Since our marriage wasn’t one of love but respect, we would reside in the knowledge that we were doing what was best for our families.

“What I hadn’t planned was Elton. While I was in London, he harassed her and caused her great distress. He said he had proof the child was his and would take me to court to lay claim to the baby. He believed he could reverse our contract, declare our marriage fraudulent, and claim the child. The man was in massive debt, and marrying Ann with an heir would ensure he would get a sizable financial gain. Her family would pay handsomely to avoid the scandal. Ann was delicate to begin with, and all the added stress caused her to become frail and retreat into melancholy. They called the doctor, but she was consumed with worry. I tried to assure her I would fix this, but I only made things worse.”

He lowered his voice because this next part hurt. The pain that shot through him at the memory was like a hot knife. He took in a shaky breath, staring into the fire.

“Ann’s distress caused me to lose my temper. I found Elton in a gambling hall on the edge of town. I called him out, and I challenged him.”

“Challenged him?”

“A duel, Ellie. I challenged Elton to a duel the next morning at dawn.”

She slipped her hand in his and grasped it; he needed her support as the wave of memories he had kept at bay washed over him.

“How wrong that decision was. It would have been wiser to leave the decision to the courts. But I was prideful and angry. When I lifted my gun that morning, I didn’t know he refused to draw his. Rage blinded me at what those threats had done to my wife. I shot him. Not once, not a gentlemanly number of times, no. I shot him once, and then I walked over and shot him again. Because truth be told, I wanted the bastard dead. Anger consumed me. Dueling was illegal, and a constable had already been called. Liam pulled me away when I aimed to shoot Elton the third time.”

“Liam?” Ellie said, surprised.

“Yes. He was my second. I would have continued to shoot him had he not been there. He shoved me in the carriage and took off. But no one knew Elton had sent a man ahead. Knowing he would never raise his weapon, he had sent a man to my home to tell Ann what I had done. Told her I was destined to swing for breaking the law. She was so fragile, so mentally worn, that by the time I got to the house, she was gone. She had taken rat poison from the kitchen and put it in her tea.”

“And the baby?” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

Evander just shook his head. “My child died along with her. My actions, my anger caused their deaths as much as if I had done it myself.” He brushed a tear from his cheek. “It was my fault. I let my anger cloud my judgment, costing my family.”

More tears slipped down his face, but he made no attempts to dash them away.

“I went to Liam and begged him to make me like him.”

She turned her watery eyes on him. “You knew?”

“I had known for years. We were friends.”

“You still are friends.”

Closing his eyes, he wanted to believe her. That the two of them could return to their camaraderie.

“I begged him, but I went to London when Liam refused. The grief of my actions was all-consuming, and I saw no way out. I needed not to feel. It’s where I met Valerius, and he showed me how to summon Athena. How to become a warrior.”

Ellie’s gasp stole his own breath. “So that part of what Valerius told me was true.”

He gave her a surprised look. “We have known each other a very long time, Ellie.” He closed his eyes.

“Do you want to tell me about Valerius?”

He shook his head, weariness settling into his bones. “Another story for another day.” He took a breath, filling his oxygen-starved lungs and continued, the rest of the story tripping off the end of his tongue. “So, I summoned Athena and begged her to end my suffering, to make me one of her warriors, and I would vow to be her most loyal. I promised to serve her, to bring honor to her and Olympus. When she offered me the elixir, I eagerly took it. I wanted nothing of my human life. I couldn’t see anything but what I had done, the lives I had destroyed. Not only my family, but Ann’s as well. Max accepted me from the start, arm and all. Liam was furious with me. He came to blows with Valerius. He has been an overprotective older brother ever since.”

“He still is.” She squeezed his hand again. “Liam loves you. He is hurting just like you are.”

“When I learned Valerius had you. When I put together what Callassa was and what she had done, I wanted to gut Liam for bringing her into our company. If the Chthonian and Athena hadn’t shown up—”

Ellie gasped. “They were here?”

He nodded.

“If Athena hadn’t come at that moment”—he shook his head—“it tore my heart out thinking Valerius could do anything to you. I was powerless. I failed to protect you, just like I failed to protect Ann from herself. If something would have happened, it would have been my fault. Again. For so long, I have been a man lost to myself. For centuries, I have been waiting for you to find me in a purgatory I made with my two hands. Please forgive me, Ellie, my darling. I couldn’t protect you. I failed you.”

Ellie stood, reaching for his hand. When he took it, she tugged, pulling him to stand. She stepped into his body, wrapping her arms around his waist. He no longer cared about the council, Athena, or his vow. She was the only reason he had breath in his lungs. He needed her. She was the life that flowed in his veins. As she pulled her body closer to him, she melted, craning her neck to look up at him. She reached up and brushed her fingers along his cheek, clearing tears.

“Come to bed.”

Evander swept her face clear of curls and fine hairs that spiraled out of control along her temples. He tucked curls behind her ear and bent down to kiss her forehead. Once they were in her bed, her body tucked next to his, his nub resting comfortably between her shoulder blades, his legs intertwined with hers; he stroked her hair as she relaxed. Her breathing evened out as his fingers spoke the words he couldn’t say across her skin.

“I love you, my Ellie,” he whispered to her temple.