Chapter 49
Bloodgrove felt surreal. After hours in the sleigh through endless white, accompanied only by the ringing of bells and the crunch of snow, the city struck like a slap to the face.
Loud and dark, even with snowdrifts gathered against the houses, everything lay beneath a film of soot.
The streets were gray tracks of horse manure and mud.
Will realized how accustomed he had become over the past months to the pointed gables and threatening facades, and shuddered again at the hostility of the architecture.
But none of it could penetrate the lingering shock of what he had learned.
Only a few months remained until his birthday, and the second heartbeat in his chest, once so familiar, had become a ticking time bomb.
Yet his stupid, stupid mind did nothing but replay Eric’s kiss and his cold rejection in an endless loop.
The grand townhouse hummed with preparations for the wedding.
Additional cooks arrived, and although the kitchen was tucked at the far end of the house, the smell of cooking drifted all the way up to the roof and drove out the mustiness.
Gifts piled up at the end of the dining table, and Elodie read the accompanying cards over breakfast. During the day, nobles came and went, trying to hide the curiosity with which they examined Elodie’s plans.
The doors to the ballroom stood open, revealing the vast emptiness beyond. The same question was written plainly across every guest’s face: how in all the gods’ names was the room supposed to be finished in time?
Will watched them with a dark expression and stopped answering their questions.
A WEDDING UNDER THE FULL MOON?
Rumors are spreading that Duke Wilkinson and Duchess Ormonde intend to marry during the New Year’s full moon.
The office of the Red Hand has yet to issue a statement.
Smiling, Elodie turned the newspaper over. “They write as though it were a secret. As if everyone were not already talking about it.” She clicked her tongue.
Will grunted and prodded at his soft-boiled egg.
WHO IS WILLIAM FRANK?
The white angel of interior design arrived from the Capitol to transform House Ormonde with his magic. Despite considerable demand, he has yet to accept another commission.
Today in our interview (see page 19).
His fingers brushed over the drawing printed beside the article and a photograph of him. Elodie had chosen it to stir curiosity.
Chaotic as the weeks before the wedding were, and although Will secretly clipped every article about himself or the townhouse and tucked them into his notebook, he could barely enjoy any of it.
Instead of filling the pages with final sketches for the ballroom, he covered them with everything he could find about the powers of the Red Hand.
About captive gods and the bargains they offered mortals.
Meanwhile, Elodie exchanged her scandalous, low-cut dresses for traditional modesty, buttoned high beneath her chin. Wilkinson stood beside her at every engagement, his hand resting heavily at the nape of her neck.
The days leading up to the New Year’s ball should have been Elodie’s triumph. Will found her name in the papers every day, and he could not so much as go shopping without merchants and customers asking him about the wedding.
Was it true that Duchess Ormonde intended to defy the Red Hand and hold her wedding during the full-moon ball?
How was the ballroom supposed to be finished in time? I heard only materials had been delivered so far. Not a single stonemason had received a commission.
It felt like the Capitol all over again, after he had received the commission from the queen’s cousin. With one difference: here, everyone shivered with excitement at the thought of Will’s magic.
All the while, he kept looking for Eric and even considered calling at his house, but decided against it. The ambassador did not want to see him, and Will had to accept that, no matter how deeply the rejection cut.
THE MAGICAL BALLROOM!
In addition to Duchess Ormonde’s risky plan to hold her wedding during a full-moon ball, witnesses have come forward claiming to have seen the magical abilities of her architect, William Frank. He is expected to display his genius during the wedding.
Often, Will sat in the ballroom at night, turning a siren scale between his fingers as he looked over the ruined hall.
Moonlight whispered words to him in a language long forgotten, and magic sang in his chest. But he only stroked his arm, as though he might still feel the glyphs carved into his bones beneath the skin.
Months. He had months until he belonged to the Albatross. What a cruel bargain. And though he waited for the god, the night remained silent.
TRADE BLOCKADE THREATENS FOOD SHORTAGES!
Since the solstice, no ship has entered or left Bloodgrove’s harbor. The Senate has called an emergency session. Until the issue is resolved, certain goods will be rationed—there is no cause for alarm.
Duke Wilkinson grew more unpredictable. One day after the article appeared, a single ship reached the harbor. But instead of celebrating, Elodie was pale and trembling the following morning. Beige bandages flashed beneath the sleeves of her dress.
Will could barely stand to be in the same room as the man anymore. How long before a red drop appeared beside Elodie’s name on the family tree as well, announcing her end?
WAR WITH THE RED HAND!
Duchess Elodie Ormonde has sent out invitations to her wedding during the New Year’s full-moon ball at her family’s grand townhouse. Who will prevail? The Morning Postillion was also invited—we will report exclusively.
Only the faintest smile lifted the corner of Elodie’s mouth as she skimmed the headlines over breakfast.
“I am sending all the servants away the day before the wedding so that you can have the ballroom to yourself,” she said and set the newspaper aside. Something like a sigh lifted her shoulders, and Will could watch her force her facade back into place.
“Will you not want to be there?”
“I don’t think I can. Wilkinson wants me to attend a gathering of senators with him.”
“He only wants your blood again so he can bring more ships into the city! Is there at least grain on them this time?” Will’s fingers tightened around his fork.
Elodie sighed. “He and his mother are too weak to pay the toll. I am happy to help.”
That was a lie. Will frowned. “But there are only a few days left until your wedding. You need your strength.”
“Yes. He knows that.” She smiled wearily.
“How are you supposed to… accomplish what you intend if you have no strength left? Can I pay the toll for my train ticket?”
Elodie twisted her mouth guiltily but could not bring herself to meet his eyes. “No. I have to do that.”
Will shook his head in disbelief and rose. He did not understand why Elodie had not canceled the wedding after he and Eric freed the angel. Wilkinson had lost his advantage and was no longer of interest to the Red Hand. His regular fits of rage made that obvious.
Will walked to her at the end of the table. He did not know where they stood after the night of secrets.
“Should we not have freed the angel?” he asked yet again.
“Yes, but next time, bring me some of his blood.” Elodie laughed, but it sounded hollow.
Will leaned against the edge of the table beside her and gently brushed his fingers across her cheek until she looked up at him. “Wilkinson is punishing you.”
She nodded, and between one blink and the next, he saw the pain in her eyes. She leaned into his touch.
“Why have you not sent him away yet? Why do you endure all of this? What is the whole story? I know there is more to it.” He lowered his voice, and in the vastness of the dining room, they found a small space of intimacy.
“There is no point hiding it from you.” She sighed and took his other hand.
“I told you about my father and his obsession. He thought I was strong enough to become the next Red Hand. He invited his friends, all powerful mages, and they were meant to train me—to harden me. Strengthen me. But I was only a child.” She stopped and pulled away from Will’s touch. “These are not subjects for breakfast.”
Will stepped behind her high-backed chair and rested his hands on her shoulders, drawing her back against the carved wood.
At first she remained tense, but eventually she exhaled, sank into the chair, and allowed Will to stroke her face.
With gentle pressure, he moved along her neck, up over her cheeks, her temples, and the tight muscles of her forehead.
Elodie closed her eyes and for a while enjoyed his touch.
“They never did anything that would have threatened my virginity, but give people the freedom to do whatever they want and eventually…” Elodie cleared her throat.
“Eventually, they forget their humanity. They hid it beneath lies like ‘research,’ ‘conditioning,’ and ‘necessity,’ but now I know they were only hiding from themselves. From their reflection in the mirror the next morning.”
Will swallowed and had to concentrate to keep his massage from faltering. But he was grateful she didn’t see his face, because he couldn’t guarantee his thoughts were not written all over it. Disgust and simmering rage rose inside him until all he could see was red.
“Sometimes my uncle came, but mostly it was the others. You met one of them—Robert Lake, with his shadow magic. Two were senators I killed with the chimera. The Bohun clan, whom you helped me wipe out. There were so many more at the celebrations my father held, when he tried to open portals to heaven or hell. I hate them all. But Wilkinson was one of those who was always there. The one who always saw me as a woman, never as a child. He loved it when they tied me to the bed, and my body tore itself apart in madness.”
Will’s fingers froze.
Elodie opened her eyes and looked up at him, but there was no pain in them now. The storm raged more fiercely than ever.
“Thank you for reminding me why I am fighting. I had lost sight of it these past few days.”
Will placed his hands against her cheeks, holding her entire face. He struggled with his words and with the unchangeable nature of the past. “Tell me what you need from me.”
She smiled and leaned into his hands. “Only you. Your magic. Your good heart.” Her fingers closed around his, and she turned in the chair so she could look directly into his eyes. “Perhaps I was once a victim, but they created a monster.”
“I do not believe that. The more you tell me about your plans and your past, the more convinced I am that you strike them down with righteous anger.” He bent toward her and brushed a kiss over her lips. Today, they tasted of grapefruit and sugar.
Elodie laughed softly and rose. “You were warned.” She smoothed her skirts and squared her shoulders. “I will try to be there for your miracle, but if I cannot, begin without me. And as we agreed—the ballroom now, and the small parlor on the wedding day.”
Will nodded, slightly lost. She could shake off the memories and return to ordinary life so easily. Why did his own revelations still haunt him?
“Does Eric know about this?” he asked before she could leave.
“No. My father always treated him with respect. We will leave it that way.”