31. Claire
Claire
Everything about this felt wrong.
The feeling stayed with me as I walked up the winding stairs. My hand slid along the smooth banister, my steps much slower than when I had arrived. Behind me came Persibal, carrying my newly wrapped dresses.
My dresses.
The thought should have filled me with excitement. Now, I couldn’t shake the insistent warning threading through me, as though something deep inside me was ringing an alarm, over and over again.
Something isn’t right.
I tried to reason with myself. Was I simply overwhelmed?
Thrown too quickly from the quiet familiarity of the countryside into this grandeur, this expectation, this…
life? Perhaps this was normal. Perhaps in a week, I would settle, learn the rhythms of this place, and learn more about Garrick. But the thought didn’t comfort me.
As I reached the curve of the staircase leading toward my room, a new sound cut through the silence.
Click. Click. Click.
A woman rounded the landing above, descending just enough for the light to catch her fully.
She was stunning.
Golden curls framed her face, and her warm brown eyes locked onto mine. She had bright ruby-red lips and wore a rich, sleek, pink dress. Elegant satin gloves covered her arms up to her elbows.
We stilled when our eyes met. For a fraction of a second, surprise flickered across her expression as though she hadn’t expected to see me.
Was she family or someone important?
“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. “You must be Cassandra!”
The name hit me oddly. I forced a polite smile despite the confusion.
“Claire, actually.”
“Right, yes. Claire.” Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is so lovely to meet you. You are stunning.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, instinctively.
“Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”
The words felt rehearsed, like I was supposed to say them. Her smile deepened, but her smile made my skin prickle. Like she knew something I didn’t.
“Garrick will surely be a lucky man.”
Lucky. The word echoed strangely in my head.
“That’s very kind.”
She tilted her head, studying me.
“Where are you from?”
“Thistlebrook.”
A small crease formed between her brows.
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s a small town up north,” I lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture before I could stop myself. “Not many people have.”
The moment the words left me, something in my chest cracked. I hadn’t meant to say it like that, like my home didn’t matter. A tightness rose in my throat, and I dropped my gaze quickly before she could see the way my eyes burned.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, stepping past her.
I didn’t wait for her response. I continued up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. Thistlebrook. A small, simple mountain village, yes.
But it was my home.
And yet, under her gaze, under the overbearing weight of this place, I had made it sound like it was nothing at all.
I hated the way the word home felt leaving my mouth.
I cradled the porcelain teacup between my hands, letting the warmth seep into my palms as I stood before the dresser. Chamomile. Persibal had recommended it to soothe the nerves.
I took a sip as I stared at the rows upon rows of dresses laid neatly before me. There were so many. More than I had owned in my entire life.
Silk and lace spilled over one another in soft waves, colors I had never imagined myself wearing—deep blues, rich burgundies, creams that seemed too pristine to ever touch the ground. It didn’t feel real. It felt like I was standing in someone else’s life.
My reflection caught in the mirror beside the dresser, the pink dress I had chosen earlier still hugging my frame, my curls softly settled around my shoulders. I looked like I belonged here. But the thought didn’t settle right.
My mind drifted to Ash.
I could see her so clearly—her eyes, sharp and searching, the way they had softened when they landed on me. The way her voice had dipped when she spoke low after our kiss. Butterflies stirred low in my stomach before I could stop them. My last memories of her were tense and unfinished.
Where was she now? Was she already moving on to the next job?
The journey with Ash and Caspian had been more difficult than anything I had ever known.
I had seen things I wished I could forget and felt fear in ways I hadn’t understood before.
And yet there had been a brightness to it, too.
Each day had been different, unpredictable.
New towns, new faces, skies that shifted without warning.
There had been a freedom in it, despite the danger.
A small, unexpected smile touched my lips as I poured another cup of tea. Could I have gotten used to that life? The idea of seeing the world beyond what I had always known filled me with a quiet kind of excitement.
But that wasn’t the truth of it. Not entirely. The truth was…
It had never been about traveling.
It was about her. About standing beside Ash. Moving with her. Laughing with her. Discovering the world together.
Together.
My fingers tightened around the teacup. Perhaps that life would have suited me because she would have been in it. But that didn’t matter now. Ash was gone, and I was here. The realization hit harder than I expected, and my chest tightened.
For a moment, I thought I might cry.
“Did you enjoy the city today?”
The teacup nearly slipped from my hands as I turned toward the doorway to see Garrick. I hadn’t heard him knock.
“Yes,” I steadied the cup as I set it down on the tray beside me. “I enjoyed it. Everyone was very nice.”
His gaze swept over the dresses laid out.
“You certainly bought enough,” he remarked, stepping farther into the room. “Those will serve you well. Ladies here tend to avoid wearing the same dress more than once to our gatherings, and I host quite a few. At least twice a week.”
Once? Only once? My mind immediately drifted to my favorite dress back home, the one I had worn for years.
It had begun to tear at the hem until I had stitched flowers into the fabric myself, hiding the wear with thread and patience.
I loved that dress. I couldn’t imagine discarding something simply because it had been worn once.
“I see,” I murmured, though I surely did not understand.
Garrick moved closer, circling, his presence pressing in on the space around me. It made me aware of my posture, my hands, the way I stood.
Too aware.
I turned, meaning to face him fully, and that was when I saw a dark mark just below his collarbone.
It was a…
My mind flashed immediately to the woman from earlier—the one with golden curls and ruby lips.
“Where did you get that?”
Garrick stilled. His hand lifted toward his collar, fingers brushing the spot before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. I took a small step forward, my pulse beginning to race.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
His gaze snapped to mine, eyes narrowing.
“You needn’t concern yourself with my affairs.”
“I only asked—”
“And I answered.”
“That woman,” I said before I could stop myself. “The one earlier—”
Garrick let out a low, irritated breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “If you’re going to ask, then ask plainly.”
“Is she your mistress?”
The silence that followed was answer enough. Garrick’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Among others.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“Among others?”
“Surely you didn’t think a ceremony would alter my routine? Let’s not be tedious.”
“But we’re to make sacred vows to each other,” I said, the words feeling fragile even as I spoke them.
“And we will be. You will have the title and the estate. Leave the rest to me.”
Something inside me recoiled.
“That isn’t—” My voice shook slightly. “That isn’t what I thought this would be.”
“What you thought is irrelevant.”
The words landed like a slap.
“I don’t want—” I started, my voice rising without my permission. “I don’t want to share my husband with—”
“That is not your decision,” he snarled.
“Your role is to be my wife and the mother to my heirs. Beyond that, your opinion means absolutely nothing. My role is to provide for you. You can buy all the foolish dresses you want—have anything in this world your flimsy heart desires—but I will have my mistresses.”
Silence fell between us. My hands trembled at my sides, my breath coming quicker now, uneven.
“This isn’t right,” I whispered.
Garrick’s gaze darkened.
“This is enough.”
He turned abruptly and strode to the door. For a moment, I thought he was leaving, but instead he slammed it shut. The loud bang made me jump. A second later, the lock clicked. I stared at the door, my heart pounding as realization sank in.
“Your Grace?”
No answer.
I moved toward the door, my hand grasping the handle.
It didn’t budge.
“Garrick?”
The silence on the other side was absolute.
My grip tightened on the handle, and panic began to curl low in my stomach.
The room—so large, so beautiful—has now become my cage.