Chapter 18 #3
He shrugs. “Kathy likes to make sure. We’ve had one too many accidents. And Tragedy always comes with…”
“…with swans.” I know the saying off by heart.
We used to sing the rhyme in school. “One for the manor dark and tall. Two for the portrait on the wall. Three for the earls who ruled this land. Four for the blade in the dead man’s hand.
…” I start reciting, out of habit, but then I see his face, pale and full of what… pain?
I quickly tail off.
Whatever I saw is gone in a matter of seconds, and he shuts down, finishes his drink, and pours another. I take a sickly sweet sip of mine, my heart thudding louder in my chest with every second that passes.
Why on earth did I start singing that horrible song? Oh, God, what’s wrong with me? Why can I never read the room?
“Where did you and Nell learn to sing?”
His question startles me. “What?”
“Did you and your sister learn together?”
My brain scrambles to understand what he’s asking. “I…no, sometimes. I had singing lessons. Nell was a natural.”
Why is he asking me this?
He’s glaring now. Did what I say offend him? “You should sing more often.”
“I should?”
His lips curl, then he downs his glass. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I’m feeling very tipsy when we get outside.
Troy, on the other hand, appears to be stone-cold sober.
He has to prop me up to stop me from slithering to the ground.
In the amount of time it took him to drink half a bottle of whiskey, I had two and a half Sour Temples.
My head feels too light for my body, and every time I close my eyes, the earth starts to move.
Troy calls Mundel to take us home instead of driving himself, so maybe I’m not the only one.
I must have blacked out because I wake up a little startled as the car driving us back bounces over a pot hole along one of the country lanes. I’m tempted to close my eyes again and go back to sleep, but I realize pretty quickly who it is I’m curled against, my head nestled in his lap.
I look up.
Troy is asleep, head tilted back. His hand is tangled in my hair. His coat is over me like a blanket.
My body jerks to sitting, and I shove myself to the opposite end of the car seat. There’s drool on my chin, and was his groin pressed….?
God, no.
No.
For the rest of the way, I clutch the door card handle and stare out the window, watching the sunset stain the sky a dark purple, like a bruise forming over the land.
A wound, healing. It reminds me of what Troy said at the bar about the land being stripped.
Tobias Ragg said something similar. But he said it was my father’s company that did it.
Does that mean my father is responsible?
And then another thought crashes through me, scattering everything else.
My father owned the estate where Nell died. He owned it, and he never said a word. Not when I asked about the engagement, not when he mentioned that her diary was found at Grayfleet Hall.
Not once.
Things blur in and out of my memory these days, slipping through my fingers like water, but I would have remembered this.
I would have.
So that’s why Troy was confused about why I didn’t know.
Why did my father keep it secret? Why strip the land, sell it, and then sell me along with it, like I’m just another asset to liquidate?
And if Father owned Grayfleet when Nell died...
I press my forehead against the cold, fogged-up window, trying to steady my thoughts. Nothing about this has made sense from the very beginning.
And now, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.
I glance back to look at Troy, but his head is still resting on the backseat and his eyes are still closed. He looks peaceful, for once. With his brow smoothed over rather than scrunched up. Every time we go over a bump, his head lolls comically. He must be out cold.
Now would be the perfect time to try to open his phone, rather than getting distracted by useless thoughts.
I steal a look to the front, where Mundel is driving, but the partition between us is dark. I remember Troy closing it when we got into the car. Slowly, without making a sound, I scooch closer to Troy. Then closer still, until I’m right next to him, my thigh pressing against his.
Ignore that.
My heart is racing as I slip my hand into my pants, reaching for Troy’s phone.
Every part of my body feels alive with a thrill that races through me; half adrenaline, half something I don’t want to think about, especially when I tug Troy’s mobile and the warm metal tingles against my skin as it pops out.
Squashing down the flutter of heat that surges after it, because that would be so wrong, I switch it on. My heart thuds, too loud in my ears, while I wait for it to start up.
And then, cautiously…
I line up the phone with his face.
But something else has fallen onto his lap.
As I look down, I see what it is: the phone screen lights up. And Troy’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist hard, making me cry out.
“What are you doing?” But he’s holding me too tight. Eyes glittering in the darkness.
My breathing stalls, and my pulse leaps into my throat as I struggle to pull free and drop the phone. It bounces off the seat and onto the footwell. His gaze flicks to where it lands, blazing with accusation. “Is that my phone?”
I open my mouth, but I can’t speak.
“For crying out loud.” He releases me.
For the second time in one car ride, I scoot over to the other side of the seat while Troy picks up his phone.
“I take it you’re not going to tell me why you have it?”
“It was on the seat. I was giving it back to you,” I blurt out, my eyes drawn to what fell out on his lap and shouldn’t have…
The vial of poison Nola gave me.
As soon as I know that’s what it is, my lungs stop working altogether. Every nerve in my body is in panic mode. I’m unable to move as Troy’s eyes drift down to what I’m looking at.
I switch my gaze to him instead.
But it’s too late, he’s spotted it.
He sweeps it up and takes a long, hard look, holding it to the light. I cling to the door card as his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at me. He pockets the vial and his phone, then calmly sits back in his seat.
Thankfully, we soon arrive at the dock and the car parks up, so I don’t have to keep hyperventilating. But when Troy gets out, and Mundel too, helping him uncover a small motorboat from the reeds, I feel all the color drain from my face.
Troy comes back to the car and opens my door, pausing for me to get out.
I don’t move. “Where’s the water taxi?”
“It’s late, and we have a boat.”
I stare at the raft with an engine. It looks like the door Rose from Titanic clung to dear life on; big enough only for one person. “That’s not a boat.”
“Trust me. It’s a boat.”
“We won’t all fit on that.”
Troy exhales, like he’s trying not to lose his patience. “Mundel is taking the cars back to the company building.”
What choice do I have?
Troy helps me get onto the boat. My heart is pounding, my nerves zipping with too much excitement, by the time he gets in and starts the engine.
It’s not that far. I can handle this until we get to the island.
As we glide through dark water, the sun sets, making the water burn scarlet beneath us.
Birds chirp in the long grasses, and ducks honk as we pass.
It’s all very Little Mermaid, although I’m too preoccupied with how cold it is on the lake at night.
I wish I’d kept Kathy’s lined raincoat instead of Troy’s silk-lined suit jacket, which doesn’t go past my thighs.
I can’t button it either, as I’m holding on for dear life, my mind racing to figure out if Troy believed me about the phone, or if he suspects what’s in that vial… .
When he turns off the engine and stops the boat dead in the middle of the lake.
I’m at a loss as to why we’ve stopped, but when I look out to the island a stone’s throw away, there…on the dock ahead, sits a swan.
It’s hissing at us.
“Why have we stopped?” My chest squeezes tight.
Not for a bird, surely? However, the song comes back to haunt me.
One for the manor, dark and tall,
Two for the portrait on the wall,
Three for the earls who ruled this land,
Four for the blade in the dead boy’s hand,
Five for the swan upon the lake,
Six for the sins our fathers make,
Seven for treasures hid up high,
Eight for the wolf who loves to lie,
Nine for the ghosts who walk at night,
Ten for the heir who claims his right.
But there’s only one swan on the dock. As Troy watches the bird, arching its wings and neck, seeming larger and more intimidating, there are a few minutes of painful silence, and then it flaps into the lake and swims away.
He sighs and looks at me. I can’t see his expression clearly. It’s too dark for that.
“I like swans. Do you know why?”
I shake my head, icy wind caressing up my spine under his jacket.
“They never lie. If they don’t like you, you’ll know about it. I hate liars with a damn passion. And I hate being manipulated even more.”
“I d-don’t understand.” My teeth chatter. Okay, now I’m frozen to the bone.
The moon must have passed a cloud because his face is all of a sudden visible, his eyes locked on mine. The intensity in them makes me want to crawl under a rock. “Have you really forgotten, or are you just playing games?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He cocks his head. “Really? Because this is really getting old.”
I purse my lips. He knows I’m here to kill him.
“You truly are a piece of work.” Then he turns away in disgust, looking to the dock. His green eyes are still full of intense loathing, like he’s hated me for a long time, not just a few days.
If he hates my family that much, why did he agree to marry me? It doesn’t make sense.
When his gaze spears me again, he’s reaching into his pocket, and I know what he’s going to pull out. The vial. He’s going to do it here.
He’s going to kill me.
It’s so cold now that I can’t feel my legs, but I stand up anyway. The dock is so close….
“Wait—!” He reaches towards me, the boat rocks, making my nerves jar and my body rigid. I let out a cry, grabbing one side of the boat with both hands.
Troy stops moving. “Are you trying to tip the boat over?”
“No. I can’t swim!” My breath has quickened, making my lungs feel like they might burst. I stare at the black water all around us, as though it might rear up and drag me under.
His eyes narrow. “Of course you can bloody swim.” He leans toward me again. “Come here. I’ll—”
“No, I can’t. Stop it!” I white knuckle the edge of the boat as much as my numb fingers will let me. My fear of drowning worsened when Nell died, and the dreams started, but I didn’t know just how bad until now. I guess I haven’t been in a situation where I’m this close to falling in the water.
Troy lets out a sharp laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
Why is he finding this amusing?
Because he’s a monster, though you keep forgetting, dear Sis.
“Please, can we get on the island now?”
“You’re taking it this far, really?”
“I just want to get off this dinghy!”
“It’s a skiff. And what do you think I’m trying to do?”
I look at him in wild panic. I don’t know what he’s trying to do.
He leans back, folding his arms. Waiting. What is he waiting for? For me to have a heart attack? I shut my eyes, feeling my body shake from head to toe. He’s so damn cruel. I hate him. I’m going to kill him first chance I get.
The promise soothes me somewhat, that and not being able to see the water all around us like a dark entity threatening to swallow me whole.
When my heart is a little bit calmer and the boat less bouncy, I crack open one eye. Troy is still watching me, waiting. His mouth is a grim line, his brow furrowed like he’s totally unimpressed. I’m the one who should be unimpressed. This isn’t funny.
“Alright, this has gone on long enough.”
Thank goodness. He’s taking me back to shore. I open both eyes as I feel my body start to relax, although I’m not letting go any time soon. “Thank you, I—”
Troy grabs both sides and jolts the boat, making it tilt violently.
The scream leaves my lungs as it tips over and we both plunge into the icy cold black water.
And then everything slows…
The water around me. My flailing limbs. The dark figure in the water, and the moonlight illuminating him just enough for me to see Troy Severin watching me suffer.