Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cleo had never thought herself a violent woman, but she was considering poison as she sat and sipped her tea the following morning with Morgana. You are in bed with a monster. The words kept repeating in her mind. Poison would be too kind.
"You look... tired, my dear. Sebastian's been kind to you?" Morgana seemed exuberant this morning. She kept humming under her breath.
"Quite." Until she knew the full extent of the situation she had found herself in, Cleo didn't dare be too rude.
"You know," Morgana stirred her tea, then tapped her teaspoon on the top of it before setting it aside with a clink, "you and I could become friends."
That did it. Cleo couldn't contain her bitter laugh. "Friends?"
"It is better to be friends than to be enemies," her mother-in-law said.
"You mean, I would live longer if I professed to be your ally." It was one thing to be polite to a viper, quite another to listen to this drivel.
The following silence was pointed. Morgana set her teacup down, judging by the rattle of the saucer. "I have no such intentions toward you, my dear. Indeed, you are a very valuable little—"
"And now you sound like my father."
"I wonder what he'd think of this little display of viciousness from his precious daughter, hmm?"
"He'd probably mouth something meaningful to you, pat you on the hand, and then come to ask me precisely how to bring you down." Cleo bit into a biscuit. She was through with being helpless. "You are two of a kind, after all."
Morgana actually laughed. "Well, perhaps you aren't the little fool I mistook you for after all. He doesn't see it, does he?"
"Who?"
"Your father. He thinks you his obedient little pet. Do you know what I think?"
"I'm sure you'll tell me."
"I think... that there's a reason Eleanor Ross was creeping about your father's estate," Morgana's voice dripped with satisfaction. "I'm fairly certain I know what that reason was, but your poor, dear father doesn't have a clue."
"Eleanor Ross?" Cleo repeated in a horrified voice. Then added quickly, "Who is Eleanor Ross?"
"Oh, nobody of importance. Not for much longer anyway. Would you like another cup of tea?"
What had happened to Mrs. Ross? How had Morgana gotten her hands on her? No doubt that was precisely what she was meant to ask. The question had been baited. "No, thank you," Cleo said quietly. "I find I've had quite enough."
Silverware clinked. "Clever and careful. I'll have to watch you very closely. Indeed, it's a shame we cannot be friends. I admire clever young women."
"I find that difficult to believe."
"Oh, now you're making me wonder what my son's been whispering over the pillow—"
"It wasn't... He didn't..." And then Cleo stopped, realizing that she'd walked into Morgana's trap.
Very well. It wasn't as if the woman wouldn't have checked the sheets.
Still, she had to recover somehow. "He's.
.. a monster." It made her feel ill to say it, but she had no doubt Morgana would believe this lie—for Sebastian did.
"Most men are," Morgana replied with little sympathy.
"That's why you cannot trust them. They believe it their right to control the world and do as they wish with their womenfolk.
Even when they make you believe them to be kind, there is always that ugly beast within that can turn on you at any moment.
Don't ever trust a man, my dear. Learn to use them instead. "
Cleo didn't know what to say. There'd been bitterness there toward the end. "You speak of your divorce?"
"Ah, my noble husband Drake." Definitely bitterness. "A thousand promises that he made me, all of them broken."
"I thought you were involved in the poisoning of his nephew?"
"Do you know it's the one time in my life that I haven't actually been guilty of what was accused?
There is irony for you." Morgana set her teacup down.
"Of everything else, yes, I did it all. But.
.. I believed Drake when he told me he would love me forever.
I actually forgot, for a moment, what men were like.
Let's put it down to the misguided hope of youth.
" Her voice roughened. "I never made that mistake again.
And would you think me so foolish as to kill Drake's heir?
The trail led back to me as neatly as a line of breadcrumbs. I am many things, but not a fool."
"Then who do you think did it?"
"Lady Rathbourne, I'd probably guess. She wanted my husband, but he wouldn't stray, not unless he had cause."
Cleo tilted her head. Did she dare believe the woman? "Last night I felt the collar that you have put on your son."
"He's a man," Morgana replied. "He even looks so very much like his father. How could I trust him?"
"So you leashed him instead. A self-fulfilling prophecy by the sound of it, and I would know."
There was a long moment of silence. "What did Eleanor Ross tell you?"
"I thought we were speaking of your son, and I still do not know who this Eleanor Ross is."
Morgana's smile echoed in her voice. "Well, let's play along then. Eleanor Ross is my ex-husband's mistress. Goodness, perhaps she murdered Drake's nephew and blamed it on me? She always did tag along at Drake's heels like a puppy. What did you tell them?"
"Them?"
"The Prime and Mrs Ross."
"How would I know the Prime?" Cleo asked. "My father's kept me locked away at his estate for all these years. I cannot see. It's not as though I've been making secret assignations with someone. How could I have even contacted the Prime or Mrs. Ross?"
"How indeed? Do you know it's always the innocent-seeming ones you have to watch? Or so I've always believed. So be it. Perhaps I'll ask Mrs. Ross?" The older woman patted Cleo's cheek. "You would be wise to—"
The second Morgana touched her, a vision sunk its hooks deep into her. Cleo dropped her teacup, distantly registering the sensation as it burned its way across her lap. She cried out, but her eyes were wide open behind her blindfold.
A dark-haired woman lay in a small dark room, her face dirty and her clothes ragged.
She looked up as the barred cell door opened and then dragged herself up into a sitting position, wincing as she did.
Another woman entered, her skirts swishing around her ankles.
She knelt, just out of reach of Mrs. Ross's shackles, her green eyes slightly tilted and still beautiful, despite the signs of age weathering her pale skin.
Her smile, however, was vicious. "So be it then.
If Drake wants your bloody heart, then he can have it. In a box."
Then the vision shifted. A guillotine descended. Blood splashed against stone walls, and crows took off into stormy skies. The storm clouds swirled and swirled, circling Morgana as she tilted her face toward the sky. They were so thick and threatening, and they swallowed her whole.
Cleo sucked in a sharp lungful of air, clutching at the tablecloth as the vision left her. Porcelain smashed and cutlery chimed on the flagstones. Her heart was thundering in her chest.
"What did you see?" asked a sharp voice near her ear.
She couldn't breathe. She hadn't even felt the vision coming. Cleo shook her head and tried to regain her decorum.
Morgana fussed around her, fetching her a cup of water. It was almost laughable.
"Your own actions will destroy you," Cleo whispered, dragging the napkin off the table and patting at her scalded lap.
"This is the beginning of the end for you.
So perhaps you should be careful of just precisely who you threaten.
If you kill Mrs. Ross, I will let you walk your path.
I will let you fall. Indeed, you will never know if I steer you clear of it or give you a push in the wrong direction. You have been warned."
"It is never wise to make an enemy of me." Morgana sounded less certain than she had been though.
Cleo reached for the teapot and poured herself a fresh cup in the midst of the carnage. Her hands were still shaking, but her voice was measured. "I have never had an enemy," she mused. "I wonder who will win, the one who sees the future, or the one who clings to the past?"
Cleo found Sebastian in the garden. She still didn't know what to think about his confession last night, but she had no one else to help her. "Your mother is going to kill Eleanor Ross."
A pair of clippers snicked together neatly. "I know."
"Well, are you not going to do something about it?"
"What should I do?" he asked, snipping at another stem. Roses, she thought, from the heady scent of them. "Storm Mrs. Ross's prison? Murder my mother? I'd like to, but there's the unfortunate matter of the collar..."
"Well, we have to do something!"
"There is no 'we'."
"You're the only one I have," she shot back, her voice thick with emotion, "and I'm the only one you have. If we're not in this together, then what's the point?"
Bees buzzed as he hesitated before saying, "Careful. My mother's watching from the window. She looks vexed." He moved on, snipping at something else. "What did you say to her?"
"We had a lovely little conversation over tea, full of threats and bloodied promises. This is a pit of vipers, is it not?" Cleo rubbed her fingers together in thought, then ripped her chin up when she heard his swift intake of breath. "Oh, goodness. I didn't mean you."
"It's the truth," Sebastian replied, his voice muffled as he turned away from her.
"No, it's not." She followed the sound of his footsteps across the lawn hesitantly. "Would you stop pacing, please? I'm afraid I'm going to fall face first into the roses."
He stopped and Cleo almost walked into him before realizing.
"You cannot pretend this isn't going to happen. You cannot run away from it. We have to do something. This is my fault, Bastian. I sent a letter to the Prime—"
"I know. You bloody little fool. You should have stayed out of this mess."
"I wanted to help you," she cried. "And I didn't stay out of it, and now an innocent woman is going to die because of me!" Then her mind registered what he'd said. "How did you know I contacted the Prime?"
Sebastian swore under his breath. "Listen, this is not your fault. Mrs. Ross told me about—"
"She told you? You've seen her?"
"Yes." His answer was abrupt.
"She's here, isn't she?" Cleo's heart started pounding, jacking into her throat. Premonition tingled yes along her arms.
A hand grabbed her wrist and warm breath washed over her face.
The scent of him was lush with earth, roses, and sweat, all things she'd never thought to associate with her elegant husband.
"You are not going to do a thing about it.
Morgana will kill you, Cleo. If you know nothing else, then know this: My mother is dangerous.
She has the Blade of Altarrh in hand as of last night, and she won't hesitate to use it. "
It was the first time he'd touched her voluntarily.
The physical impact of it stole her breath.
"The Blade of Altarrh?" Why did that name sound familiar?
She couldn't quite place it. "A part of me will die if they kill Mrs. Ross.
A little part of me will never forgive myself. Please. Please help me."
He turned away, blowing out a breath in frustration. "Fucking roses." The clipper's hit the lawn and clattered.
"You say you're a monster," Cleo said. "I know you're not a monster, but if you pretend this isn't happening, then what do you become? Every little shadow darkens your soul. You'll become something I don't think you want to be."
"And what do you suggest I do?" Sebastian snarled. "I cannot break the wards on the cellar. It's too complicated for my magic, and my mother will know I did it. She'll take me down with sorcery before I can even lift a finger."
"I don't want you to be hurt."
"That's the problem." Fabric rustled as he paced. "She won't hurt me, Cleo. She'll come after someone I care about, and she'll do it while I watch and cannot react."
Her heart became an odd pitter-patter in her chest. "And who do you care about?" She was met with another one of his silences. It told her everything she was afraid to hope for. "Oh," she said. "Oh. I'm not afraid."
"You should be." Bleak, hopeless words. "And now that she's seen this entire little encounter, I'm going to have to tell some pretty convincing lies."
Cleo caught his wrist. "Wait." Her mind raced. "Knock me over."
"What?"
"And look angry."
"I'm not going to—"
"Yes, you are," she whispered. "Or I will."
"Bloody hell." He shook her off. "I'll do something for Mrs. Ross. I promise. Don't you attempt anything. Now, there's a rake behind you. I'm sorry." Then his shoulder hit hers in a heavy thud of heated flesh, and he pushed past her as if toward the house.
Cleo's foot caught on the rake and she went down, tumbling to her bottom on the grass.
She stayed there, in her puddle of skirts, hot emotion lodging in her chest. What a horrible mess she'd found herself in, but the oddest sensation was that of relief.
Sebastian was going to help her. She had an ally in this mess, and he had a chance at redemption, if he dared to do this.
When tears flushed through her eyes, she let them soak her blindfold as she buried her face in her hands.
He couldn't get near the Prime; his mother had eyes watching the Duke far too closely. And he couldn't rescue Mrs. Ross himself. Such an act would only earn him untold punishment, and if Morgana realized how much his wife had gotten beneath his skin, then she'd know exactly how to cut at him.
There was only one hope.
So Sebastian wrote a letter, using a scrap of Louisa's hair that he'd kept, to prove who it came from, and then waited for his chance to deliver it.