Chapter 54
Building with magic meant creating without compromise, the purest version of his vision.
And for Elodie, he had fused two hearts and had merged the cruel, ensnaring beauty of this city with his bones.
A ribbed vault of white marble and rough limestone flowed into a central column that rose like an immense tree, supporting the ceiling and spreading its branches across the room.
The hall had become a white fairy grove—a vast mosaic pond shimmered across the floor, and stone vines crept over windowsills and fireplaces.
Pale tracery, pointed arches, and mirrors decorated the walls as though they were the ruins of a palace long since lost beneath the sea.
The guests, all dressed in dark red, moved through the white grove like fallen leaves from a copper beech.
Will stayed by the doorway after Elodie had entered the ballroom to thunderous applause.
He didn’t share their excitement; melancholy wrapped itself around him, and he allowed himself a few moments to enjoy his work.
No one paid him any attention, since every eye was fixed on the bride, and he let himself be enchanted by his own magic.
Perhaps, in a world where the rules of magic would have been explained to him from childhood on, this might have been his reality: creating wonders.
A noblewoman spotted him and waved him over to her spot at a fireplace.
Tonight, like the others, he wore dark red—a gift from Elodie, along with the reminder that she still owed him a suit.
But even the knowledge that she had dressed him for their final adventure together could not overcome the heavy sense of loss.
Again and again, he accepted praise with a nod, but the only praise he longed for was Elodie’s.
He barely heard the four priests declare Elodie and Duke Wilkinson husband and wife in unison.
Over the heads of the guests, he watched Duke Wilkinson pull the newly married Duchess Wilkinson into a long kiss.
The guests cheered.
Will gagged.
“A blood moon!” someone cried, pointing into the red night beyond the windows.
The cheering grew louder. Through the tall balcony doors, an enormous red full moon shone into the room.
“A blessed marriage.”
“They will have powerful children.”
“The gods are with us!”
At the same time, the Red Hand’s vampires strained against their chains, and he had to calm them with magic.
From where he stood, Will could barely make out the man’s expression, but what he could see promised nothing good.
Elodie had not only drawn him from his lair during a full moon, but during a blood moon as well.
And from everything Will had learned about this city, that could only mean even greater power.
It felt as though Elodie had planned even that, impossible as it was.
“We have one more surprise for you, honored guests!” Elodie called, and her gaze found Will through the crowd. “William Frank, a last miracle!”
For one moment, he hoped to see the storm in her eyes, but her expression remained polite. She had locked herself deep within her own heart and become entirely the perfect bride Wilkinson desired.
Suddenly, her eyes widened in alarm and moved to something behind Will.
Voices rose, and before he could turn, strong hands seized him.
His arms were twisted roughly behind his back, and handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists.
Will struggled in panic, but the city guards only tightened their grip.
They had the same milky skin as all the other officials, their eyes strangely empty.
“What is happening?” Will demanded, but instead of answering, they dragged him before the Red Hand.
The guests whispered among themselves, their voices unbearable. Will was so tired of them. How eager they were, how easily their excitement for his next performance turned into malicious joy at seeing him arrested.
Panic closed around his throat as he remembered the Capitol. He had escaped arrest there by the narrowest margin only because he agreed to leave the city. But surely no one in Bloodgrove would denounce him for magic.
Desperately, he searched for Elodie, who was fighting her way toward him through the crowd.
A semicircle opened before the Red Hand, the onlookers pressing together so tightly they formed a wall.
The guards threw Will to the floor, and for several seconds, he stared at the mosaic beneath his hands.
He had loved designing it, loved laying it.
No act of creation had ever felt as free as using magic with Elodie’s permission.
But by now, he understood that he had not done it for her. If tonight, his career ended for good, then at least once, he had created something truly his own.
He drew enough strength from that thought to straighten, even as the guards kept him on his knees.
The Red Hand sat before the central column, a mix of tree trunk and stone tracery, like the king of some barbaric cult.
A dark red cloak with an ermine collar had been spread across his enormous body, as though the white fur allowed him to take part in the wedding.
As though he were more a part of this marriage than anyone else in the room.
For the first time that evening, a satisfied smile replaced the irritation in his pale face. But before Will could think about what that meant, his gaze snapped from the Red Hand to someone standing at his right.
Hands clasped behind his back, posture immovable, expression cold, Eric wore the heavy chain of the senators. His colleagues gathered behind him, their hastily donned black robes stark against the crowd.
Will’s heart fell from his chest. A millstone replaced it, making it impossible to breathe.
“William Frank!” the Red Hand began. “You stand accused of high treason!”
He should have turned toward his accuser, but he could not take his eyes off Eric.
This had to be a misunderstanding.
The bandages wrapped around Will’s chest and shoulders now felt like restraints, tightening with every breath. But Eric’s hard expression left no room for doubt.
Then Will saw Duke Wilkinson forcing his way through the crowd with Elodie in tow, hatred blazing as he looked down at him.
“You stole something priceless that was in service to the Crown!” Wilkinson clenched his fists, crushing Elodie’s fingers until they turned red under their lace gloves. Her eyes jumped between Will and Eric, fear being eaten by rage.
Will laughed without humor when he finally understood. Nothing—absolutely nothing he gave—would ever stop those two from continuing their rivalry. And nothing, no intimacy or tenderness, was strong enough to protect him from their game.
“And what exactly would that be?” Will asked, a broken smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. His thoughts raced, but he refused to be intimidated. He threw back his head so that his hair fell across his shoulders and met the Red Hand’s eyes.
There was only one thing Wilkinson could accuse him of—apart from the fact that Will was probably the only man who had ever given his wife an orgasm—and he would hardly admit to that before the entire wedding party.
“A prisoner of the Crown!”
Will looked toward the Red Hand, but the man leaned against his throne with an unreadable expression.
“I believe you will have to be more concrete; I don’t see any evidence,” Will countered, though even as he spoke, he realized his mistake.
Wilkinson smiled with satisfaction. “We have a witness.”
Eric stepped forward and squared his shoulders. He looked good in his black suit, robe, and heavy chain across them. Will was not hardened enough to ignore the night they shared, and he drank in the sight of this man, this traitor, just as greedily as he had the monster.
“I bear witness,” Eric said. “I saw it with my own eyes, but I wasn’t able to stop him. He overpowered me, threw me to the ground, and freed the prisoner.”
Shocked cries rippled through the crowd, and Will hated them even more.
No doubt they were all delighted they had accepted the scandalous invitation. The evening would be the talk of the town for months, and they had been present to watch the foreigner reveal himself as a mistake after all.
Will had no choice but to hate the guests, because otherwise he would have to hate Eric, and he could not. Betrayal drove itself through his shoulder blades, piercing deep into his chest and into his heart. It hurt more than he had ever expected. And at the same time, he laughed at himself.
Had Eric not warned him? Had he not smiled at Will’s na?veté and apologized before he even committed the betrayal?
Though Eric was leading him to the scaffold and placing the axe in the executioner’s hands, he did not seem to enjoy the moment.
His gaze remained fixed on Will. He took no satisfaction from Elodie’s outrage.
“The Golden Queen sent him to destroy our city,” Wilkinson added, stepping into the center of the ballroom.
“Because of him, no new shipments arrive. Because of him, the granaries stand empty. We were warned about moon children like him, but they are far worse than we imagined. He even attempted to seduce my wife!”
“That—” Elodie began to protest, but he jerked her sharply against his side.
“He is seductive,” the Red Hand agreed. Three servants helped him sit upright. His breathing came heavily, and it took him a moment before he continued. “He has a certain effect upon people. And evidently upon our little Elodie as well.”
Murmurs of agreement spread through the room, and Will stared in disbelief, his lips parted.
“We should feed him to the vampires,” Wilkinson suggested, glancing toward the Red Hand’s beloved pets.
“I am not a moon child.” Will felt ridiculous even saying it.
“That is exactly what a moon child would say!” one of the guests shouted.
But the Red Hand smiled. “He knows what punishment I promised him if he touched what belongs to the Red Hand.”
Eric stepped forward. “I have a train ticket that can take him back to the Capitol tonight. Let him become the Golden Queen’s problem.”
“Always so reasonable,” the Red Hand sighed.
“A sacrifice in our honor would be better,” Wilkinson cut in. “Let us all share his blood!” Perhaps the duke possessed more than a suspicion that Elodie had betrayed him.
At that small consolation, Will raised his chin higher.
“Darling,” Elodie crooned and nestled against her husband.
She tipped her head back, and the spikes of her diadem glittered.
She made her voice soft and her shoulders narrow.
“He created this wondrous ballroom for us. One day, our children will play here. My father spilled enough blood in this room. Spare him.”
Whispered memories of her father fluttered through the ballroom. For a city that loved blood so deeply, the old Ormonde had gone too far even for their tastes.
“We should not strain the bride’s nerves unnecessarily,” Eric said. “We all know how emotional she can be.”
Laughter moved through the crowd.
For the first time that evening, Eric and Elodie’s gazes met, and the tension of a midsummer storm crackled between them. Without a word, they fought with the twitch of an eyebrow, the lowering of one corner of a mouth. In a language they had perfected in childhood.
“Take him away!” Eric called at last, before the Red Hand could speak.
“I demand blood!” Wilkinson answered.
“As ambassador, I am responsible for maintaining relations with the Capitol. We cannot sacrifice a guest. My decision is final.”
The Red Hand nodded.
Hands slid beneath Will’s arms once more and tore him to his feet. They dragged him from the ballroom, refusing to allow him to walk on his own, determined to complete the humiliation.
But as they passed Eric, he stopped them and bent toward Will. For the briefest moment, one gloved finger brushed over the pale scar on Will’s cheek.
“I expect no gratitude,” he whispered and straightened again. Then he turned towards the guards. “Chain him inside the train, if he gives you trouble. I want him out of this city before sunrise.”