Chapter 19
“Please tell me you did that on purpose,” I say, laughing as Alistair’s rock plops into the lake with a pathetic splash.
The night air is cool as we stand on the lakeshore, and I pull my blanket closer around my shoulders. Since Alistair can’t be out in the sunlight, we’ve begun the habit of taking evening walks after dinner.
Although all it’s done is show me how bad Alistair is at skipping rocks.
“Of course it was on purpose,” he scoffs, flicking another flat rock into the lake. But instead of skipping, it plunks to the bottom like all the previous ones. “That one was on purpose too.”
“You’re a lost cause,” I taunt, whipping my rock out across the water. It skips three times before sinking. I flash Alistair a victorious grin, and he shakes his head. “That is how you skip rocks.”
“Alright, then show me, oh superior rock skipper.” His smirk is insufferable, but I humor him despite my better judgment.
Stepping closer, I hand him a rock, rearranging his fingers around its edges. It’s a little difficult to see in the shadows, but the lights shining from the manor and the glow of the half-moon give us enough to see by.
“Move your thumb a little bit,” I whisper. I’m not sure why I feel the need to be quiet. The dark makes the moment feel private somehow.
“Like this?” he asks, his breath rustling my hair. I force myself to keep still, focusing solely on his hand.
But then his fingers go rogue and capture a few of mine.
“Alistair…”
“Hm?” He sounds happy. Too happy.
I look up and find him grinning villainously, tickled to have an effect on me no doubt. “Stop messing around,” I say with a glare.
“I’m not messing around. I am trying to learn.”
“I think you’re trying to learn something other than how to skip rocks.”
I don’t realize that he’s stepped closer until his chest is pressed against my side, his eyes cast in shadows. He looks dangerous like this, tempting.
My stomach twists.
“And what is it that I’m trying to learn?” his voice is low and soft—out here in the dark, it feels as if we’re the only two people in the world.
“How to get to me,” I manage to get out, embarrassed at the way my heart races.
His responding smile is soft, his eyes tracing my face. “Oh, I figured that out after your first week here, Little Alpha.”
“Is that why I find you so insufferable?”
But he isn’t insulted by my words. He looks downright pleased.
“Oh, come on, Freckles. You don’t find me insufferable.”
“Believe me, I do,” I argue weakly.
He leans closer, his breath rustling my hair and skimming across my temple. “Liar.”
Rattled by the way my gut clenches and my ears go hot, I drop my hand from his and put a few inches of space between us. “Just throw the rock, Al.”
His eyes linger on me, still smiling. Then he flicks the rock, and it skips twice on the lake’s smooth surface before it sinks.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You knew how to do that the whole time, didn’t you?”
He turns, invading my space. “I’ve been stuck here for four years with very little to entertain me. What do you think?”
I roll my eyes and walk away. I’m not genuinely angry, but watching him squirm has become a favorite pastime of mine.
When I hear him come after me a moment later, I smile. Like clockwork.
“Come on, Stella. You can’t blame a man for making up an excuse to be close to you.”
“You mean the unattractive waif of a girl who’s nose you once said was big enough for three people’s faces?” I retort, but the words are empty of any real animosity. His insults toward my appearance have been all but nonexistent lately and there are times when he looks at me and doesn’t seem to hate what he sees.
“Hey now, I haven’t commented on your nose in days,” he argues, taking my arm and sliding it through the crook of his elbow. “Honestly, the longer you’re here, the more I wonder if I imagined what you looked like in the beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs, guiding us around a mole hill. “I mean that I still don’t see you the way you painted yourself in the library, but you look different than you did when you first got here.”
“What do I look like now?”
“Plain. Not pretty, not ugly. Just kind of forgettable. But sometimes you seem a bit blurry to me, like the curse is hiding you.”
I mull his words over, wondering if this change is due to him seeing beauty differently now, or if it’s because he sees me differently. Not just as a coworker, but a friend…
“Except for the eyes,” he continues. “They’re so expressive it’s almost distracting.”
A bit of pride puffs up inside me and I quickly tamp it down. Who cares if Alistair finds my eyes distracting?
“Master!” Brutus shouts, pulling me from my thoughts. His bald head reflects the moonlight as he runs over to us, looking grim. “There’s a visitor at the gate. Says he wants to speak to you.”
Alistair goes rigid at my side.
Gone is the man who is quick to smirk and always teasing. In his place is a stern man of business, a threatening presence of authority. If I didn’t know him, I would be afraid.
But my fear is already spoken for, coming alive at the news that a man is at the gate. What if it’s one of Orrin’s men? If Alistair confirms that I’m here…I shake my head. I’m not going back. I just need to see who the visitor is—
“Stella, go inside,” Alistair commands abruptly.
“But—”
He spins me, setting his hands on my arms. I’m surprised by the intense worry in his eyes, and the desperate tone of his voice. “Stella, I need you to go inside…Please.”
I want to outright refuse, but I don’t trust him not to have Brutus carry me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes if I say no. “Fine,” I sigh. “Just this once.”
Alistair releases a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “I’ll be back,” he says, watching as Brutus leads me toward the manor.
Once he’s convinced that I’m actually doing as he asked, Alistair heads for the front gate. I can’t see the gate from here, but I’m almost certain I know who’s waiting at it.
“He’ll be fine, Miss Stella,” Brutus assures me once we’re inside, mistaking the reason for my anxiety.
I give him a reassuring smile. “I know.” But it’s not Alistair that I’m worried about.
The cook watches me like he expects me to run. “Don’t worry, you can trust him to take care of our visitor.”
I nod but don’t say anything. As much as I would love to agree with Brutus, I don’t know if I can trust Alistair with this. I don’t want to think that he would hand me over to Orrin, but that all depends on whether or not Alistair would believe his brother.
The moment Brutus disappears around the corner, I slip back outside, keeping to the perimeter of the manor, trying to stay low and out of sight.
By the time my eyes land on him, Alistair has almost made it to the gate. Where a shadowed figure waits.
I dart off to the trees, sneaking as close as I can get without being seen.
“What do you want?” Alistair barks, and my stomach sinks at the sight of the man standing on the other side of the iron gate.
“Information,” the man says with a lazy smile, his black hair pulled into a low ponytail. Jareth.
He looks smug, as usual. Even when Orrin punished him for being rough with me Jareth was never truly cowed. He”s too arrogant for that. He doesn’t want to be controlled by the duke any more than I do. His favorite form of rebellion is being cruel to me when he thinks he can get away with it.
But even the times that the duke didn’t catch him, I did. I smile vindictively. I hope he still has that scar on his forearm.
He should have known better than to try and ruffle a woman who’s trained with knives.
“I don’t waste time gossiping with peasants,” Alistair scoffs, turning from the gate.
Jareth’s self-righteous attitude falls at the rise of his desperation. He grips the bars, pressing his face against them. He’s not wearing his usual uniform and I wonder why he hasn’t announced that he works for the duke. Unless Orrin thinks his brother will be difficult about handing me over.
But I’m afraid to hope.
“Wait,” Jareth pleads. “I’m looking for a girl. She’s tall and thin—a gangly thing. She has a bunch of dark hair, and she has a way of finding trouble.”
I see the way Alistair’s face goes slack and the panic that quickly sinks in. But with his back turned to Jareth, the guard doesn’t catch it.
There’s a stretched silence as I watch Alistar consider his options. He’s known me for such a short time. He owes me no loyalty. It would be reasonable for him to ask Jareth for more information or to hand me over to the guard. And if he does, I shouldn’t be hurt by it. Shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed.
I’ve been betrayed before, been sold out and had people turn on me. It always hurts a little, but I can’t blame people for choosing their own safety over mine. Orrin is a dangerous man and everyone knows it.
The Baron is the only person I’ve ever met who was willing to take on the consequences of freeing me. I shouldn’t take it personally if Alistair isn’t willing to be so altruistic.
“A girl you say?” Alistair asks, turning back to Jareth. His voice is so cool, so unbothered, that I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Yes. She’s gone rogue,” Jareth says eagerly, a mutt trying to impress the bigger dog in hopes for scraps. “She’s very dangerous.”
“Well then you probably shouldn’t have lost her,” Alistair condemns him harshly. “I don’t receive visitors here. Your girl is not with me, and I would advise you not to lose any more of your people in my territory.”
Jareth’s face pales and he steps back from the bars. “Thank you, sir. I will ensure that no one bothers you in the future.”
“See that you do.” Alistair’s voice goes dangerously dark, and Jareth turns and all but runs back the other way.
I wait a few minutes in my hiding place, watching Alistair as he watches Jareth’s departure. When Alistair turns from the gate and I’m sure Jareth is gone, I step out from the trees. It takes Al a moment to realize what he’s seeing as his eyes skim over me.
But then he becomes angry.
“What the bloody hell are you doing out here?” he whisper-shouts, stomping my way. “I told you to go inside. What if that man had seen you? Do you have any idea—oof!”
He stumbles a step as I crash into him, but his arms quickly bind around me, holding me close against his chest.
Moments pass but I don’t release my hold on his neck, basking in this rare feeling of safety.
With one hand on my hair, Alistair cradles me gently, and I almost cry at the tenderness of it. The last time someone held me like this was before my mother died. I didn’t realize how hungry I was for such unconditional affection until Alistair stood in the gap, bringing a relief that makes my eyes sting.
“Something could have happened to you,” he whispers angrily. But I don’t care that he’s mad, I’m just grateful to feel his breath on my ear, his heartbeat pounding wildly against my chest.
“Something almost did,” I insist, squeezing him tighter. “But you didn’t turn me over.”
He tries to push me back, but I hold tight. “Stella, let go a little. I want to see your face.”
I reluctantly loosen my grip and he nudges me back a few inches, enough to search my features in the moonlight. His expression is one of concern, but it’s deeper than that. There’s a wildness to the emotion that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Like maybe losing me would have hurt him the same way I’m realizing that it would hurt me…
“Why would you think that I would turn you over to that creep?” he demands, offended.
I look down, studying the buttons on his shirt. But his finger slides under my chin, lifting my gaze.
“Do you still not trust me?” The question is asked with such hurt, that I immediately regret not trusting him more.
I open my mouth to tell him so, but no sound comes out. What am I supposed to say? That I’m not sure I know how to trust but he makes me want to?
At my hesitation, his face fills with understanding. “I guess I have some work to do.”
“No.” Feeling a little braver in the face of his doubt, I push a lock of his sandy blonde hair from his face. “You don’t. Because what you just did proved that I can trust you.”
“I would never betray you Slither,” he insists. “I need you to believe that. To have a little trust in me.”
“I do.”
“Good. Because that man is not getting anywhere near you. He sounded like he had a personal vendetta against you.”
When I say nothing, Alistair’s eyes go cold. “Stella, did that man hurt you?”
I hesitate.
“Tell me, please. Did he harm you?” He swallows, restraining his anger for my benefit. “Did he…do I need to track him down and castrate him?”
Despite the content of our conversation, I smile, warmed to be worried over. “No. He didn’t hurt me like that.”
Alistair’s face becomes dark with rage. “But he did hurt you.”
“He likes hurting people he deems below him,” I explain quickly, holding him tighter so he can’t do something stupid like chase Jareth down. “It makes him feel powerful. But I got retribution. He mostly leaves me alone anymore. It’s not worth it to him to gain another scar at my hand.”
Alistair is quiet, and I can see him struggling not to go after Jareth with a knife of his own. “If I see him again, I’ll hurt him,” he growls.
“I won’t stop you.”
He groans, pulling me into his side as he leads us back to the manor. “I am glad to hear that you gave him some scars to remember you by.”
“Me too. Although I think seeing him run away from you was the highlight of my year.”
He becomes serious. “Anyone else who comes for you won’t leave here with all their appendages still attached. I promise. I’m not going to let anyone get to you.”
I relax into his hold, finally feeling like there are some new, bright memories to outshine the damaged ones. Instead of Orrin’s greedy face haunting my dreams as I fall asleep later, I see Alistair.
The scene from the gate repeats on a loop, him choosing me again and again. And when I wake the next day, I realize that even though my trust is rusty from disuse, it’s found its way to Alistair.
He’s not his brother, and I’m starting to believe that if Alistair knew what his brother did to me, he might take my side. But regardless, I’ve taken his.
‘Have a little trust in me,’ he asked. But I think he’s earned more than just a little.