26. Something Borrowed
SOMETHING BORROWED
Irene
Iwas still reeling from Alex healing me hours later when I was in Myrtha’s bedroom, struggling to focus on the gowns. My brain suggested different ways to get injured, only to ask Alex to heal me. He’d said any time, after all.
Surely, after what we’d shared, he would touch me. He would be more comfortable with me and hold me. Unless there was another reason for him not to touch me.
Guilt worked its way through my mind, making me wonder if I shouldn’t have enjoyed the healing so much.
“Here we are.” Myrtha pulled me back from my musings.
She’d placed a few of her gowns on the four-poster bed to find something that would fit me. A display of fine velvet, silk, and satin was spread on the embroidered quilt. Everything in her bedroom was bright and immaculate. Even the fireplace was made of white marble.
The room gave me a sense of space and light, but it was cosy at the same time. There were plants everywhere, mismatched vases, candles of different colours, paintings of blooming meadows, and baskets filled with fashion magazines.
Myrtha shifted her attention from the gowns to me. “Something that matches your complexion.” She inched closer. “My goodness. You look all rosy and glowing. Are you regaining energy?” Hope rang out in her voice.
“Yes. I mean, no.” I touched my warm cheeks. “I’m better. That’s all.”
“I wish your power would grow.” She took out pairs of shoes and boots from the armoire. “Did Logan’s death upset you?”
Heavens. What kind of wanton woman was I? I’d forgotten about him. “Yes, it did.”
“He served the former duke and, like him, enjoyed hurting women. I’m not fond of Ravenhill, but he’s an honourable man. He never hurts women. That’s why I let Fiona feed him. It’s her choice. I wouldn’t allow a revolting vampire’s fangs anywhere near me, but at least Ravenhill doesn’t hurt Fiona.”
Fiona fed Alex? No, I didn’t experience a shot of jealousy. Absolutely not.
She selected a lilac-blue gown. “This should be perfect for you.”
I pressed the gown to my body. “Thank you for everything you do.”
“You deserve a second chance.” Sadness sneaked into her aura with indigo tendrils.
“Why are you sad?” I tried on a pretty plaited hat with pink silk roses matching the gown.
“Nothing. Just bad memories.”
But it wasn’t nothing. Sadness dripped from her aura.
“Tell me.”
“I became a wili when the Civil War ended. I was the daughter of an earl, but my father had fallen deeply into debt during the war.” Her face tensed, and her aura changed. “He sold me to a foreign prince.”
I lowered the hat. “He didn’t!”
She selected a fine capelet. “That was the first betrayal. The prince treated me like his concubine but promised he wouldn’t hurt me as long as I was loyal and faithful to him.
I made a friend in his court, a handsome man who wanted to be my lover.
I didn’t want to anger the prince, so I rejected him.
Scorned, he told the prince I was unfaithful.
That was the second betrayal.” Her aura darkened further.
“Angered, the prince forced himself on me before strangling me. That was the third betrayal. While I was dying, I swore I would return to avenge my death. My desire for vengeance was so strong I was born again.”
I squeezed her hand. Her aura turned smoky and dark.
“Don’t pity me. I’m not a victim. I fight back.” Sadness glowed indigo and hung like morning fog around her. “Only you can decide if you are a victim or not.”
“Did revenge bring you peace?”
She faced the armoire and skimmed through the gowns.
“Of course it did. I killed all three of them. They can’t hurt me anymore.
” Her dark halo shattered into sharp shards.
Maybe she was lying, or her sorrow was intense.
When she turned towards me, the moment of vulnerability was gone.
“It’s your turn now. Your revenge. You’ll be so powerful after you kill Sean, you won’t believe it. ”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
The healing and its strong emotions had left me restless, so in the evening, I walked to my papa’s grave.
The hilltop where the cemetery lay offered an unobstructed view of the palace. From there, it looked like an elegant, large house, but with long wings forming the shape of a cross, with a balustrade and turrets. But not as big as it really was.
I paused in front of my papa’s tombstone. His body didn’t lie there. I didn’t have any of his belongings to symbolically bury. But nevertheless, staying here and remembering him gave me some comfort.
“I’m not sure you would be proud of me.” I caressed the smooth, cold stone. “But I want to avenge your death.”
Loud sobs came from behind the hedgerow separating two rows of tombstones.
Someone was suffering. I unleashed my power and caught deep pain but not physical.
My mood darkened in response as the person’s sorrow sank into me.
I blocked the pain not to be influenced by it.
Also, I wanted the pleasure from the healing to linger for a bit longer.
I walked around the hedgerow and found Carabosse sitting on a bench, face in her hands. Dark blue dominated her aura—sorrow.
“Cara, what is the matter?”
She straightened and muffled her sobs with her hands. A few tendrils of her black hair had escaped the chignon and fell over her cheeks, highlighting her paleness.
“Did Logan hurt you terribly?” Although I didn’t detect any physical injuries on her neck. The signs of Logan’s attack were gone.
She wiped her face quickly. “A vampire could never hurt me.”
“Then what is it?”
She raised her head to stare at me. “Why do you care?” Her tone sounded sharp and challenging.
“I can feel your sorrow. It’s deep and strong. I’m sorry you’re going through this pain.”
“If you knew me better, you wouldn’t be sorry for me.” She smoothed a fold of her black skirt with restless fingers.
“Why do you say that?”
“I was part of the Wraith Court.” She gazed at me as if expecting a big reaction.
“And?”
Ash-grey confusion spread through her aura for a moment. “The wraiths were considered too violent and murderous to live close to humans. The other courts demanded restrictions, but the wraiths revolted. A war started, and the Wraith Court was destroyed.”
“Was it true that the wraiths were violent and murderous?”
“The Wraith Duke was a necromancer. He experimented with the dead, which is something the other courts disapproved of. And I cursed people. That’s what I used to do. Not anymore.” She sighed.
I wasn’t sure what to say to someone whose job was cursing people and who apparently enjoyed it. “That’s good.”
She let out a bitter chuckle, which I didn’t know how to interpret.
“If I cursed someone now, Ravenhill would either kill me or kick me out. He’s a young vampire.
He’s still in love with humanity. He still believes he is human.
In a hundred years, he’ll change his mind and won’t care anymore about humans. ”
Indignation flared up in my chest. “I hope that will never happen. Ravenhill is a good man.”
“We were all good at the beginning.” Her pessimism annoyed me.
“Are we all supernatural beings destined to become evil and corrupt?”
“We live too long. Some of us are immortal. We don’t fear death. Death makes you a better person. It makes you realise what you have to lose and respect life. When the threat of dying is gone, nothing is left to scare you.”
I sat next to her. “Is that why you’re sad? Do you wish to be mortal?”
“I guess I do.” She hunched her shoulders.
“Danvers, the Duke of the Wraith Court, chased power all his life. He didn’t care whom he had to kill or torture to get what he wanted.
The wraiths admired his determination and ruthlessness.
Including me. But after he was destroyed, I wondered if becoming so powerful was worth it.
” She gazed around. A sickly green light filled her aura—disgust. “I hate this place.”
She didn’t like Raven Hall and didn’t have a great opinion of Alex, which raised a question.
“Why are you staying?” I asked.
Her aura returned dark blue with sorrow. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
I found it difficult to comfort someone who disliked Alex and glorified a necromancer with an obsessive desire for power, but she obviously needed to belong somewhere, and that was relatable.
“You should talk to the duke about how you feel. He’s more understanding than you think. He’ll help you find another place.”
A little yellow flame speared her aura. Happiness, but for what reason?
“You really care about him, don’t you?”
I smiled. “I do.” I glanced at the tombstone in front of us.
The marble was cracked and dull; it had to be old. I squinted to read the name. “Aurora,” I read. “Did you know her?”
The change in her aura was sudden. It went from dark blue to scarlet, an anger so deep it stung my skin.
“I did. I killed her.”
My mouth hung open. A dozen questions piled up in my mind, like why would she visit the grave of someone she’d killed? Was she crying because she regretted having killed this woman?
“A piece of advice.” She rose and smoothed her skirt, yawning. “Stop being so compassionate. You’re a wili. Wilis are assassins. Embrace who you are. Your life will be simpler.” She left, quickly going down the path.
I hated that there was some truth in what she’d said. But I wouldn’t renounce my compassion. Never.