Chapter XIV
XIV
SILAS
She’s late.
Of course she is.
It’s five minutes past the time I told her, and she knows I hate waiting.
Mostly because I hate how it makes me feel—out of control, like someone else is holding the reins. I pace the edge of the vestry, fingers drumming against the stone column, the old incense-stained velvet curtains brushing my sleeves as I turn.
When she finally appears in the door, I don’t speak.
I just stare.
Let her feel it, let her scramble.
“Silas,” she breathes, an apology and prayer all-in-one.
I can tell that she’s trying to look beautiful. Pink-tinted lip gloss, her flax-white hair curled too stiffly for a weekday. She’s even swapped her uniform cardigan for a cashmere one that’s tighter, giving her lanky body the illusion of a slim waist.
Vain little peacock.
“Don’t ever waste my time again,” I say flatly.
Her smile falters.
She steps inside, closing the heavy chapel door behind her, like this is some kind of secret rendezvous and not what it really is: surveillance.
“I’m sorry,” Anastazya murmurs, head ducking, shoulders folding inward.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, breath slicing through my teeth. “Your apologies mean nothing to me.” You mean nothing to me. I cross my arms. “What do you have for me?”
She shakes just the slightest bit, her blue eyes widening.
“After she left the library, I’m not sure where she went,” Anastazya whispers. “I saw her on the phone with someone before she went to the library.”
Anastazya Volkova was Vivienne’s first girlfriend.
She was also the first girl who got in my bed during my first week at Augustine.
I wouldn’t call what we had a relationship—but it obviously meant something to her.
She was on my arm for all of seventy-hours.
When I broke up with her, she found solace in Vivienne—and when Vivienne broke up with her?
Well, she’s been on the edge of sanity since then.
I guess that’s what heartbreak does to a woman—turns them into a shell of themselves, something easy to manipulate and mold into whatever you want. Dangle the possibility of rekindling a relationship in front of them, and suddenly they’re like putty in your hands.
And Anastazya? She’s been the most pliant of them all.
“What do you mean you don’t know where she went?” My voice is sharp and with a strong hand I flip her around, slamming her against the back of the vestry. “I gave you one job.” Well, technically two. “And you can’t seem to do that?”
She stutters. “She got a book from the librarian.”
“A book? That’s the only intel you have for me?” I grab her throat, and that’s when the words and tears start flowing. “I think…I think…” She’s choking on her words. “I think she’s at the cemetery. She came back crying the last time, maybe she’s gone to that bitch’s grave again.”
I loosen my hold on her.
Even in the fucking grave, Vivienne won’t get out of my life it seems. I clench my jaw and turn away, pacing once, twice.
“You really think she went to that grave to cry, Ana?” I hiss. “She went to him.”
The words taste bitter in my mouth.
Eden—my future wife—wandering into the arms of that bastard at Vivienne’s grave. While I’m here, making arrangements for her in the future she clearly doesn’t deserve. Though she never admitted it, I know he touched her.
If it wasn’t for The Spirit.
If it wasn’t for the future of the Peregrine-Ashford name.
“She’s cheating on you,” Anastazya blurts out.
My eyes snap back to her. “What did you say?”
Her breath is shaky. “She’s cheating on you. Why else would she act this way, Lord Silas? She’s been different ever since you came back from the trip into town.” She raises her voice, her cheeks flushing with what I assume to be angry. “She’s ungrateful.”
Silence.
I step closer, letting the silence stretch long enough for her to choke on. Anastazya’s pupils are blown wide, watching my every move. I slip my hands into my pockets, meeting her gaze with one as cold as ice.
“I asked you to provide me with facts. Not assumptions.”
She nods too quickly. “I can. I will. Just—tell me what’s going on with us. I deserve to know, don’t I? I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
There it is again.
That neediness.
That desperate, pathetic yearning.
She reaches for me, fingers grazing the sleeve of my jacket. I let her touch me, if only even to calm herself. I’ve fed Anastazya lie after lie to get us here. What’s one more?
“Everything is fine with us.”
Her eyes gleam with hope. “You’ll give me her ring?”
As if I’d ever.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Now leave.”
When Anastazya’s footsteps disappear, I sit on the pew, fingers tented beneath my chin. I think of how Eden was once like her. Her hands used to shake when she touched me, a simple kiss would leave her out of breath.
How I could change her mind with a simple word.
She used to look at me like I was her safety, the only thing keeping her afloat.
Now she walks through graveyards to stand beside Lucian fucking Beaumont. She sneaks out and returns to her dorm with dirty shoes. She ignores my messages and calls, choosing to sequester herself in the library.
Eden is running from me.
I clench my fists.
She claims to be afraid of what Lucian is doing to the school. Yet, it doesn’t stop her from stealing moments with him.
If she wants darkness, I’ll show her darkness.
If she wants ruin, I’ll show her that too.
I’ll burn the world to the ground and force her to kneel in the ashes of Lucian’s bones.
Anastazya is just a pawn—and if I have to sacrifice her to prove my point, to bring my plan to fruition, then so be it.
She was always meant to bleed for something bigger than herself.
And The Spirit is thirsty again.
Eden can’t hide from me, as much as she likes to think she can.
I’ve given her space to see what she would do—if in my absence she’d be brazen enough to turn to him. And if what Anastazya says is true, then she did.
Because unlike Eden, Lucian walked right past the Boys’ Dormitory on his way to the graveyard. There’s nothing discreet about him, especially now that he’s driven fear into nearly everyone on campus.
But me?
I see him for what he truly is.
A brat who can’t get what he wants.
The one thing he wants more than air itself wears my ring on her finger, she’ll be walking down the aisle to me in six weeks. No matter how much havoc he wreaks, he can’t change that.
I know Eden better than she knows herself.
She wants the approval of her parents, to finally make them proud.
To finally be useful to them. When she finds out that my family is broke and I’m using her to restore our stature, she’ll keep quiet because of the shame. She’ll never let her parents—or anyone for that matter—know the truth. Then everything will be fixed.
You will sit with me at breakfast tomorrow. This isn’t an offer, it’s a command. I’m certain Viscountess Lockhart would be pleased to hear how you’ve treated your fiancé, your only chance of redeeming yourself in her eyes. I’m not above involving your parents.
Just as expected, she replies almost instantly.
Eden:
Okay.
And to finish it off:
Perhaps I have been too kind to you.
No response.
Good.
After our time away from campus, I’ve learned two things. First, Lucian has been filling Eden’s head with nonsense, specifically that she can somehow make choices about her life that I don’t approve of, that we’re on equal footing, that she can stand up to me.
I need Eden’s wealth, but more than that, I need her. The Spirit gave her to me. She may have botched the ritual, but our souls are partially bound together already. I just need her submission—and if she won’t give it to me. I am going to take it.
The second thing I’ve learned?
Being nice to Eden will get me nowhere. The gloves are off and I’m taking off the mask. If she wants to fight back, if she wants to turn herself into a stone cold bitch—the kind of woman I would never date, much less choose to marry—then I will become the fire to thaw her.
But first, I need power.
I send a text in The Order’s group chat.
Tonight.
Alistair reacts to my message with a thumbs up, and so does Max. Three dots pop up under Cedric’s name.
Cedric:
Why?
Meet me by the tree at dusk.
I spend the rest of the late afternoon avoiding classes—it’s not like I need to attend them anyway, Augustine is just where wealthy Catholics send their children for matchmaking.
It’s also a gateway to any university. The government will never investigate why Augustine has a 98% acceptance rate into the best schools in the world.
In fact, the only reason why it’s not 100% is because some girls don’t choose to go to university after finding their match.
They opt to go straight into homemaking.
Though I had dreams of Eden and I attending Oxford together, the more she tries to resist me, the more I’m certain that I’ll be getting her pregnant on our wedding night.
Well, that’s if she isn’t already—we’re getting married so soon that no one would be able to tell.
The thought sends a thrum of excitement through me, straight to my cock.
As much as Eden pisses me off right now, I love her.
She will be the cornerstone of the Peregrine-Ashford empire.
And the thought of her carrying my heir.
Her belly round and full, needing me for everything.
That would be a dream. As I pace the length of the breezeway, I realize that I’m going to make it a reality.
I just need to know the best time. The next time I see her, I’ll check if she has one of those period tracker apps on her phone.
If not, I’ll just have Anastazya keep track of it for me.
At least she’ll be good for something else, too.
I spend my time roaming the campus.