Chapter 19 #2
“Because?”
Prudence gave her a sideways glance before turning back to watch the cliffs sail by them as Rhiannon drove them up the new road.
“I’d like to amend my earlier assumption.”
Prudence was still not looking at her, but her voice was less distant.
“So I am not a nihilistic villain anymore in your estimation?” Rhiannon wanted to smile.
“Only when it comes to the island and the town and the craft. Otherwise, I believe you are all heart. Maybe too much of it, so I agree with Christian about you wanting too much. My three caveats stand, however.”
Rhiannon wanted to recoil. She wanted to hit the brakes and tell this woman, who had somehow found herself at the very core of Rhiannon’s life on the island, to get out and let her breathe.
Couldn’t she see that Rhiannon had not been able to draw a full-chest breath since they had met?
That she had had to work double and triple time to keep herself from spilling her magic all over these damned rocks, just to keep them all safe? And herself alive?
Prudence’s voice broke through her nascent panic attack. In fact, she didn’t even realize she was having one up until a warm hand landed on hers on the steering wheel and a curious tone reached her ears.
“Before you take us both off the cliff, to prove my very point about the fact that not only are you not a villain at all, but that’s just what you want everyone to think so they’ll leave you alone, can you humor me and answer a question?”
Prudence was finally looking at her fully, not stealing furtive glances. Her eyes were huge, shadowy, full of unshed emotion Rhiannon was not prepared to untangle. Certainly not when she was driving and certainly not while her chest was an open mess of muscles and tendons and fear.
She reached for her patience. Maybe it would save them both.
“I’ll answer anything, Prudence. I’m an open book.”
Prudence’s laughter was melodious, a burst of rain shaken out by a treacherous wind.
“Since I don’t know how to call you out on that one without saying that you are the biggest liar with her pants on fire, I’ll just ask my question. Why did you name your cat Boleyn?”
Rhiannon smiled and shrugged. What a non sequitur.
“She’s been through a lot.”
Prudence kept looking at her, ignoring the world outside of the car’s windows or the fast-approaching Viridescent Cliff and the luxury of their destination.
“She’s Boleyn because she’s been through a lot?”
Rhiannon could feel that this line of questioning was leading somewhere, Prudence’s eyes too avid on her. Still, she chose to answer. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Anne Boleyn was one of the many women in history who were given the shortest end of the goddamn stick because a man didn’t want them anymore. Executed for what? So that a monster could go on raping other women and murdering them in his quest for male progeny?”
Rhiannon’s voice went high, the sudden tears frightening her, and she pulled into the parking lot a bit too abruptly. When she turned to face Prudence, the gray was nearly black in those calm eyes.
“You decided to right a generational, historical wrong by giving one Boleyn a life of ease and love and peace, even if she is a cat this time around. Hence you spoil her and go above and beyond what a reasonable cat owner would ever do for their cat. Makes sense, Rhiannon. Makes perfect sense for a nihilistic villain.”
Rhiannon felt her cheeks flame.
“There’s no such thing as a cat owner. One doesn’t own cats.”
Prudence laughed again, sincere and delighted, and Rhiannon watched those beautiful features transform with joy. The frayed scars on her heart tugged painfully.
“No, I suppose a cat owns you. And your familiar more so than any other, given the lifestyle she leads.”
“She’s not my familiar. I sure hope Ceridwen isn’t filling your head with that kind of garbage, because one doesn’t need a familiar to be a witch—”
Rhiannon stopped mid-sentence and wanted to curse herself for a fool. She wasn’t even sure what was Prudence goading her into saying, but she was becoming too easy prey, and that needed to change, and soon.
“It doesn’t matter. Ceridwen can teach you whatever she damn well pleases, she will anyway. Sorry I brought up Christian’s earlier assessment.”
Prudence opened her own door and got out of the car, looking at Rhiannon over the hood of the little Mercedes.
“She taught me how to make flowers bloom and how to use water to allay hurts and pains. And she and Seren think neither Earth nor Water are my elements. Though I could’ve told them that weeks ago and saved us all some time.”
As Prudence walked away in the direction of the bright lights of the resort, Rhiannon’s hands flared, the craft rearing its head against the barrier spell, reaching for its mate.
There was no denying it, and Rhiannon didn’t need magic to see it, to feel it. She knew the exact taste of Prudence’s power, its feel against her own skin. She didn’t need to unleash her own to know she had met her match.
Of all the gin joints…
Her mate had always been on Dragons. And it didn’t matter at all because Rhiannon Crowhart would not be staying.
And Prudence? Well, Prudence had her entire life on the island.
And above all, Rhiannon knew that Prudence would not be leaving the craft behind, even if she did follow Rhiannon to the mainland and beyond.
Having had a woman give up her life once before and end up resenting everything Rhiannon was…
She shook her head and slammed the car door.
She was getting ahead of herself and she was being foolish.
She let Ceridwen and the craft all get in her head again.
Mate? Maybe, but it didn’t matter. Rhiannon wouldn’t be staying on Dragons. Everyone was well aware of that.
“I’d say penny for your thoughts, but a beautiful woman’s musings surely are worth much more than that, and I am not entirely certain my pride will remain intact if I am to indeed pay the price of admittance into your head.”
Rhiannon had to smile. She bit her lip to hide the gesture and turned to face a pair of openly appraising, dark amber eyes. Paloma Allende in all her mysterious, authoritative glory was a sight to see.
Rhiannon would guess she was around Ceridwen’s age, though perhaps a bit older with excellent skill for makeup and amazing genes. She was beautiful and she looked in charge. Rhiannon imagined it was a deadly combination for the men and women who crossed paths with her.
Though probably, judging by the greeting, the men were not in any danger. Or at least not in this brand of danger, as the eyes looked deeply into hers and twinkled with amusement and daring.
“Ms. Allende, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The owner of the Astronomy Resort was a few inches shorter than Rhiannon, but her exquisite Jimmy Choos hid that masterfully. Rhiannon gave the gorgeous footwear a nod of approval even as her interlocutor eyed her Louboutin ankle boots. Then they caught each other staring and laughed.
“I want to say the pleasure is all mine, but I know my credit card will be getting a workout tonight when I go upstairs to my rooms and order myself a few pairs of these fabulous boots, Ms. Crowhart!”
Rhiannon chuckled and the host took her under the arm, the gesture surprising her in its swiftness and directness.
It also answered a question she had been harboring since she met Paloma Allende a few weeks ago at the town hall.
For all the worldliness, for all the authority she exuded, the mistress of the Viridescent did not possess the gift.
Rhiannon’s skin remained cool in the evening breeze.
As if to demonstrate contrast, she caught a glimpse of light, almost silvery-blonde hair in the distance, and her heart stuttered in her chest. Rhiannon sighed and forced herself to focus on the beauty on her arm.
“I saw you arrive with the daughter of my opponent, and I have to confess, I am intrigued about a Crowhart and a Fowler together like this.”
Rhiannon lifted an eyebrow as she gave the woman a sideways glance.
“I take it you listen to the town’s gossip?”
Paloma’s smirk was razor sharp.
“I don’t have to read the Caw to know that you are together, Ms. Crowhart. And by the looks of it, you had an argument on the way here. You’re vexed and she’s concerned and yet you have eyes only for each other. It’s sweet. And curious.”
Seeing the obvious, well-laid trap, Rhiannon chose to sidestep it.
“I think you might as well call me Rhiannon, given that we seem to be sharing intimacies.”
Paloma’s smirk morphed into a wide smile, and she nodded.
“Ah, but we aren’t sharing. Mostly because I never do, and I assume you aren’t the type to either. And it would hurt that blonde na?f of yours anyway. I tend not to hurt people, unless they deserve it.”
Rhiannon narrowed her eyes, not in malice—the woman on her arm was too direct to inspire that—but in respect, for the aforementioned directness and at the gall of the game being played afoot, without her participating. But all she said was, “Go on,” and braced herself.
Paloma slowed her steps even more, making sure her words were for Rhiannon’s ears only as they approached the busy reception area of the resort, bustling with the town’s merchants and all sorts of other invitees.
“Oh, I just meant to say how interesting it is that a Crowhart with a penchant for saving and preserving priceless antiques is dating a Fowler, whose father had been trying to purchase or, bar that, confiscate an old, historically significant building for years. One that said Crowhart currently inhabits.”
Rhiannon stopped, her fingers suddenly numb. Paloma turned around, shielding her from the crowd.
“And before you say something foolish like ‘we aren’t dating,’ you sure are doing a lot of fucking for women who aren’t dating, my dear.” Paloma’s voice was low, suggestive. “And while I have dabbled in sleeping with the enemy on occasion, I don’t recommend it.”
Her heartstrings, already raw and abraded, twanged, the guitar pick Paloma had chosen clearly wrong for this particular moment when Rhiannon was already on the very edge. Though, was there really a right moment when she had felt that edge ever since she stepped onto the island in August?
“She isn’t an enemy.”
Paloma’s smile was all faint cordiality.
“She most probably isn’t. But if I were you, I’d dig in the old archives, Rhiannon.
Fascinating information those books hold.
And who would know better about books than you?
Some of them are so old, their owners have forgotten how much information they contain, since they’d need an expert touch to open.
If only there was a restorer in town once again.
One trained by the late, great Jerome Maginot himself.
After all, he knew all about those very old, very much forgotten books. ”
Something cold slithered down Rhiannon’s back and she kept her eyes focused past Paloma where Prudence was surreptitiously looking around herself, no doubt trying to find Rhiannon.
Paloma chose to give Rhiannon a moment before she turned to her fully, stepping closer, crowding her. It wasn’t unpleasant, but Rhiannon’s already-on-alert system went into overdrive.
“And speaking of books, Rhiannon. Did you know that the town’s library has received four more challenges? Immigration and queer books this time. There hasn’t been a single challenge yet that didn’t include an LGBTQIA title. And Fowler is silent. Interesting.”
“Interesting is not a word I’d use for this case, Ms. Allende. And you are remarkably well informed for someone who is a newcomer on the island.”
The amber swirled with mischief and the voice got even lower, as the gorgeous face was suddenly much closer to Rhiannon’s.
“I make a point of knowing what I am up against. As should you.” Paloma blew out a breath and gave her a curious smile.
“Though the more I look into you, the more I find out you tend to just forge ahead. Challenging the Town Council on the Halloween Festival and simply funding the entire thing yourself. That takes steel ovaries.”
Rhiannon crossed her arms, the evening chill suddenly making her shiver. It had to be the chill.
“Or it takes having a large disposable income and a desire to spite people. I have plenty of both. It also helps that I’m on the island for ten more months only.
The notion that I would be up against anything other than walls or doors or the shower stall and that would be by anything other than my own volition, is presumptuous, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Allende? ”
Paloma’s laughter was all smoke and seduction. When Rhiannon narrowed her eyes, however, she was waved away with another chuckle.
“Touché, Rhiannon Crowhart. We’re not enemies either, you and I.
But I do wish to know mine. Alternatively, I tend to warn women when they might be walking into a trap.
My job here is done. Watch your exquisite backside.
In this town, nothing is what it seems. But then you knew that already.
And if you hadn’t learned it when you left, then surely you got that message when you returned. ”
With that she placed a kiss on Rhiannon’s right cheek, and after a whispered “You can call me Paloma, querida. I hope you enjoy your evening,” she was gone.
From the distance, Rhiannon could see Prudence’s eyes ignoring the departing woman, instead staying on her, their piercing gaze not warming her this time.