Chapter Twenty Wren
Chapter Twenty
Wren
There have been unique instances when gifts could be shared simultaneously. However, this is so rare that there isn’t much research on the matter.
—Aurilian History of Magical Objects, Chapter Thirty
He left.
Just like I knew he would.
I had no plans to meet Damien anytime soon. He could sit there in his pub and stew for all I cared.
All right. Perhaps I cared. More than I wanted to, especially when the person in question was an ass. And a liar. And a thief. And a bunch of other things that, combined, drove me insane and turned me into another person entirely. So many more reasons to add to the list of why I despised the thief.
The night after the ball, I curled up in bed and read, trying to lose myself in another world. My mind, on the other hand, had other plans, and I reread the same sentence over and over again.
Damien kissed me back.
There was no denying it. He’d reacted when I pushed up onto my toes and kissed his lips, too overwhelmed by the scene to think about my actions.
With his hard body against mine, protecting me, guarding me, I had wanted to feel him.
There hadn’t been much thought other than needing to drown in him before the world swallowed me up.
And Fates, he’d made me feel alive, wholly and dangerously alive, for the first time in my life.
Damien destroyed me with his ravenous kisses.
With the eager way he’d touched me, his broad hands skimming my figure with care before those fingers dug into my hips and he yielded to temptation.
I’d been shocked for just a moment, stunned that he returned my advances with such fervor.
And Fates, the low noises of need he’d made sounded like he’d been in pain. Like he’d wanted to give in ages ago.
Then he disappeared.
Having left me shaken, reeling not only from our new discovery, but from what we’d both done, he had the audacity to use his gift and vanish.
I groaned now, my book flopping onto my stomach.
Was this all a game to him? If so, I planned on bowing out. He couldn’t kiss me and then run like a frightened boy. He was the one who’d continued long after Hockley left.
I felt foolish for thinking about Damien when I should be focused on my gift. Though, truth be told, the fire to find it had waned, replaced by a new need.
My father was obviously a player in a game I hadn’t known existed. Maybe I’d always known he involved himself in less than proper dealings, but this…threatening lords and speaking of appeasing Fates—and another powerful entity, it appeared—threw me over the edge.
I tried not to think about it, I really did. Every time I pictured my father’s heartless face as he warned Hockley of the consequences, I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. To mourn the image I’d made of a man who didn’t exist.
I felt like I’d just lost a parent.
He obviously knew about Hockley’s son and his lack of a gift.
Had Father believed the same had occurred with me?
That he’d somehow displeased Day and I’d ended up being a casualty?
How easily he lied, then, if that was true.
Looking right into my eyes and pretending he’d searched the Registry, relaying that I was unblessed.
Did it even bother him that he’d hurt his daughter?
Could he be that cruel to someone he claimed to love?
A knock pounded at my door, jolting me upright.
Callie opened it before I replied, practically falling across my bed in exhaustion, her gray dress wrinkling on the mattress.
I could tell she loathed it, her hands running down the skirts with a frown.
She wore it to appease the leaders of the wards, as if they’d look at her like she was an imbecile merely for wearing pink.
Those bastards probably would.
“Why, yes, sister, do come in,” I said, my words dry. My feigned teasing fell flat, my heart not in the right shape for me to converse with anyone at the moment, even her.
Callie rolled over and opened one eye. “I think our father is trying to kill me.” She sighed and placed a hand over her eyes. “A ridiculous number of shipments are arriving, and apparently I’m the only one who can keep track of them.”
I sat up straighter. “What kind of shipments?” Could this be related to last night’s conversation?
“Oh, just everything,” Callie hedged, twirling a strand of long black hair around her finger. “I catalog the crates and shipping containers, but they’ve been arriving erratically lately, and not all of them belong to Father. Meaning he’s pawning me off to his friends for free labor.”
“He doesn’t pay you at all,” I remarked wryly, suddenly realizing how ridiculous that was, considering her workload.
“No,” she admitted. She angled herself until she perched on her elbows and faced me, her hands cradling her face. Dark circles painted the skin beneath her eyes. She truly was beyond overworked.
“Why do you still go, then?” I asked cautiously. “Do you really think they’re changing their minds about women in power?” I certainly hoped so, but seeing Callie so defeated—
It made me angry. Protective.
“I go because one day they will.” One side of her mouth lifted in a somber smile.
“You know better than anyone how fickle these people are. How they view women.” I watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed down her emotion.
She never cried, but I understood her well enough to recognize when the urge struck her.
“I want power, Wren, for both of us. I want to be better than Father. Stronger and more influential. I just want to do better than him. Fates know he’s not the most trustworthy man.
” She lightly smacked her forehead. “It’s all a dream, right? ”
I shook my head and reached for her, my hands curling around her upper arms.
“No. You have always been the ambitious one in the family, and I think that’s a good thing.
It doesn’t hurt that you’re somewhat clever.
” I gave her a playful grin, some of my earlier tension waning.
“Don’t give up so easily.” If she did, then they’d win.
And with Callie on the inside, she might uncover what Father planned and do something.
“I won’t,” she promised, averting her gaze. “I just wish it didn’t always come at some sort of price.” I hurried to ask more, but Callie lifted herself up, readying to leave. “I need to sleep before I fall face-first down the stairs.” She shot me a smirk at the threshold of my room.
“Callie?” I called out before she shut my door. She hesitated. “Why won’t Father work with the other ward leaders to help the Void? It’s still Aurilia. I just don’t understand.”
Damien and Ruby floated across my vision. The Void and the children begging for food, the smoke clogging the streets, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I wasn’t certain why I even asked. If Father was involved with unsavory dealings, why would he care?
Callie took a step back into the room and leaned on the wall, her expression somber.
“He needs them where they are, Wren,” she said softly, briefly shutting her eyes.
“A week ago, I learned he was responsible for the failure of the proposed bills to remedy conditions. I found out only when I overheard him speaking with Lord Lovett and Hockley, and”—she swallowed thickly, averting her eyes—“I didn’t want to say anything to you because I’m a coward, and to be honest, I didn’t want to think him capable of such cruelty. ”
It was as if I’d been dealt a blow to my chest as I stared at my sister, her eyes shining with what looked like unshed tears. She held them in for me.
“Why stay?” I asked, my throat so tight it was surprising anything made it out at all.
“Because if I leave, no one will be there to watch him should he decide to do something worse.”
This was the moment. I had to tell Callie about what Damien and I overheard. She had access where I didn’t.
“Listen, Callie,” I began slowly, my head spinning. “Last night I saw something, and I think you should know. Maybe you can investigate.” She cocked her head, brows pinched in worry. “I saw Father—”
“Callie!”
We both jumped as the man in question called out for her, his voice booming as it rang through the halls.
“I need you in my office. Now!” he ordered, causing Callie to flinch slightly. She shot me an apologetic look, and I swore that true fear washed over her features before she composed herself, morphing into a woman constructed of stone.
“I have to go. He’s been more demanding as of late,” she whispered. “But tell me more about what you found out. Please,” she added before hastily running from my room and to the study. I heard her frantic steps in the hall.
I cursed aloud with no one there to scold me.
Callie wanted to fight her way to the top, tooth and nail, and she was my sister—the same one who’d mended broken birds’ wings when we were younger and had stood up to Father when she knew he was wrong on a subject. I envied her bravery.
If anyone would help me, it would be her. Yet I never would get the chance to tell her with Father breathing down her neck. They were always together, his watchful eye on her like an invisible noose.
Maybe it was best to wait until I understood the whole picture. Then I’d tell her, even if I had to wake her in the middle of the night. The promise bolstered me, and for the first time in days, a weight lifted as I knew I’d soon have my sister on our side.
As the hour was late, I couldn’t do anything now. Tomorrow promised a new day with new chances to hunt for the truth of Father’s threats, but I’d have to force my brain to relax and sleep if I was to be of any use.