Chapter 1 #2
But he shook off the thought. That was none of his business. She was Ben’s sparrow, not his.
He didn’t care for the newly desperate look in her eyes, though. It reminded him too much of another woman who had looked at him that way, pleading and resigned, all at once.
(You were too serious)
He hadn’t been able to help her, either.
To distract himself, Cal registered with the state bar and scheduled the dates for his exams, holing himself up in his room to study.
He had his meals sent up and to keep Odessa out, he locked the doors.
Sometimes, as the night bled into the early hours of the morning, he could hear shuffling in the bridal suite next door that must have been Noelle, pacing, but he paid it no mind.
He couldn’t afford to and neither could she.
She was a clever girl, he told himself. And Ben could be easily led.
When he wasn’t studying or seeing Rael, he took long walks in the woods.
Passer Woods was named for the sparrows that lived there, and stretched nearly as far as the eye could see, cresting over the foothills and into the mountainous vista that lay behind them.
The warbling of the birds was deafening in the morning, until he trod on a branch and they all fell silent at his approach.
He’d brought others here once. But it had been a long time since he’d come here with company.
The land was as much a part of their legacy as their various traditions, but it was the lightest part of the mantle.
Breathing in the resinous scent of pine, Cal looked around the spacious clearing.
It was deep enough in the woods to deter all but the drunkest of degenerates.
Ghost pipes were blooming, pale pink and red, like arteries sprouting from the soil itself. The red color was rare and he’d been watching them for a while, guarding them as jealously as he did anything else that he considered his.
A pair of misty-grey eyes popped into his head and his chest tightened.
He wanted to see her again.
???????
“How’s your brother’s wife?”
Cal swirled his shot glass, watching the dim lights of the bar ripple over the surface instead of meeting his friend, Rael’s, eyes. They were in the Blue Bar, and Christian was standing behind said bar, wiping glasses like he wasn’t trying to listen.
“Like a shadow of her former self,” he said, in a low voice.
“Ben told her?”
“No. Not yet.” He knocked back the contents, swiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. “But she suspects something is amiss. Ben caught her writing a letter.”
“Who to?”
“Her sister, I think.”
Demonstrating the minimal amount of sense, Ben went to their father instead of confronting her directly. He then summoned them all to the study to castigate them in person after the sparrows had gone to bed.
“Remember,” he reminded them all grimly, “your marriages might be valid under the eyes of the law, but they will never be true Cullravens unless they pass the test. I gave you my permission to marry early with the understanding that this would be a temporary measure.”
“Temporary?” Odessa scoffed. “At this rate, she won’t make it to spring.”
“Shut up,” Ben hissed.
“It could be nothing. A letter is far from urgent.” His father looked at him. “Write one back to the girl, Caledon. Don’t be incriminating.”
Cal flipped a page in his study guide. “Paper trails are incriminating.”
“Is this attitude what we get for paying to send you to law school?”
“This isn’t legal advice. It’s just advice. And on that note, I’m surprised you aren’t more concerned about the book that Ben lost. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
“I didn’t lose it.”
His father’s eyes slid to Ben. “You were the one to see it last, weren’t you?”
“I made an entry. Then I put it back. And locked it.”
“Well, it didn’t grow legs and run away,” Odessa said. “Otherwise Cal would have fucked it.”
“Enough.” Their father glared at them all. “I’m tired of waiting for you three to rise to the family name. You call yourself Cullravens but I only see a layabout, a pushover, and a charlatan.”
“Which one am I?” Odessa wanted to know.
“I think you can guess,” said Cal. “You’re the only one who sleeps past noon.”
“I’m not a fucking pushover,” Ben snarled.
“Then act like it. Rein in your wife instead of leaving your younger brother to clean up your messes.” He turned back to Cal. “Write the letter. Now. We don’t want her family involved.”
Rael was quiet as he took all of this in. He was familiar enough with Cal’s family that he knew how bad it would be for the Harnoix if his father thought they knew too much.
The chatter from the bar and the sounds of the nearby arcade were loud enough to drown out their conversation from curious passerby, but he still measured his response carefully. He took a sip of beer and swallowed. “What did you do?”
“I wrote the letter.” Cal smiled sardonically. “Inviting her here.”
A woman like that would assume the worst if told to stay away, so he poured on the charm like a spider trying to coax a reluctant fly into its web.
He was irritated when she hadn’t responded, even though that was exactly what he’d suspected would happen and it was what his family wanted.
Ben caught him writing the second letter and rolled his eyes as he read over his shoulder.
“I don’t think that’s quite what Father meant when he told you to scare her off, but far be it from me to critique such unorthodox, but effective, measures.”
“Hadn’t you better see to your wife?” Cal responded, without looking up. “Or have you forgotten why I’m doing this in the first place?”
He had stormed off, then, and Cal was sorry as it occurred to him that he might not be the one to bear the brunt of his brother’s tempers.
“It’s better this way.” Rael’s voice broke into his thoughts, shattering them like brittle glass. “You come from two separate worlds, and her sister is already married to your brother.”
“She writes poetry.”
“Of course she does.”
“There is no crueler kiss / than a soft bloom made harsh by thorns.”
Rael rolled his eyes. “Very pretty.”
“It’s called Winter’s Ravishment.”
“Stop stalking her. She’s no game of yours.”
“But one I feel compelled to play regardless. She doesn’t even try to hide. The poor fucking thing thinks she wants to be ravished.”
“So did her sister.”
The words fell like river-chilled stones into the silence.
Because that was exactly how Ben had found Noelle in the first place, by looking for women in the sorts of online forums people went to when they wanted to feel a little disrespected.
He thought of Nadine’s restless gaze and how every time they had locked eyes, he had felt the pull of it like a magnetic charge strumming the iron in his blood.
She would come to me, he’d thought, except she hadn’t. He was alone.
And when he and Rael finished their drinks, he was still alone when he returned home.
The house was poorly insulated and no amount of curtains or shutters could keep out the heat that reached in through the southern windows like a grasping hand.
He left his window open but sometimes, like tonight, he still woke up in a sweat with the stale taste of rum on his tongue.
More than once, he had gone to his window and leaned out, letting the lake-chilled breeze roll down his back just to feel a touch that wasn’t his own.
His bedroom window looked out over the bronze statue in the central courtyard. The figures were positioned away from him, pointed toward the wood, but as a child he had imagined the grind of stone as Caledon Cullraven’s first wife turned back like Lot’s wife, to face the accused.
Lower thy honor and raise thy blood.
Beside him, the bridal suite was silent. Perhaps Noelle had finally decided to embrace the dagger poised at her throat. It would go better for her if she had.
Better for all of them.
Cal pushed off from the window and poured himself a shot of rum, which he carried with him through the dark halls. Moonlight caused the paint strokes of the old portraits to flare in passing, highlighting an eye, a cheek, the tip of a nose.
The original Caledon Cullraven had been fond of hostile architecture: harsh points and sharp edges, rooms like wide and gaping mouths, halls that felt like they were closing in.
Having grown up here, he was used to the constricting feel of the tight, tunneling corridors with their dark, hand-painted wallpaper, but to a stranger, he imagined the effect might make one feel . . . hunted.
While the library was no less austere than the rest of the house, it was Caledon’s one concession to comfort. The flocked wallpaper was a slightly warmer hue of blue that could not be found elsewhere in the house and the furniture was extravagantly plush and upholstered.
He seated himself on the jacquard settee with its muted paisley pattern, picking up the book he had been working his way through. Movement in the corner of his eye made his head jerk up.
Noelle was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a costly brocaded robe. The color drained from her face, turning it an ashen grey that could not be warmed by the light of her candle.
“Oh.” The word came out as an exhalation, high and breathy, as the golden light caught him in its wavering halo. Her eyes widened—she was already turning to flee. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think anyone else would be down here this late.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
Her hesitation was palpable. She looked over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her. As she pulled her robe closed, Cal caught a glimpse of a purpling bruise at her throat.
“I didn’t want to disturb Ben.”
Cal allowed himself the privilege of a sneer. “My dear sister, your husband has the constitution of a granite cliff. You could batter yourself to death on his edges before he could be bothered to rouse himself from slumber.”
“You talk so strangely, Cal.” She eyed him warily. “Do you come here often at night?”