Chapter 26 #2
“It is done,” Thornwood said.
It was as though a balloon popped. The atmosphere constricted around Mouse, and she gasped, pulling away. Thornwood gripped her shoulders and spun her to face the crowd. He held out his hand, and a goblet appeared.
“Water,” Mouse wheezed.
“It is water,” Thornwood said, pressing it into her hands. She drank it all, the moisture a balm to her throat. She wanted to cry. Thornwood tipped her chin up and smiled. “You did well.”
“I want to rest,” she said.
“Soon. We must give the court a few dances, but after that, you can sleep for as long as you wish.”
Dancers filled the floor, dressed in elegant gowns in every color, twirling across the room.
Mickelwaithe’s dark shadow stood out among the bright shapes.
He was guiding Beckett through the crowd.
As they passed, Faeries reached out to them, only to shrink back at Mickelwaithe’s dark look. Mouse sighed in relief.
“Not all Fae are as gentle with humans as I am. Stay close to me tonight, Mouse,” Thornwood said against her ear. When he pulled away, it was to beckon her to the dance floor.
Something cool encircled her finger, and when she looked down, his ring glittered there. The gem was whole again, sparkling with magic.
The other Faeries cleared out of the way, leaving a trail for them to follow.
Behind their cheerful masks, Mouse could see they were laughing at her.
She winced, her thoughts slow. Why would they be laughing?
She looked down at herself. There was nothing on her dress, and her reflection in the mirror was as beautiful as she had ever been. No, it was something else.
It struck her that she and Thornwood had not kissed.
Was it a sham wedding in Faerie if they did not kiss?
It did not seem right to Mouse, even with her thoughts heavy and thick.
And she’d enjoyed kissing him before! When she looked back at Thornwood, he was frowning, but his expression softened when she took his extended hand.
He was not expecting her to lean forward and press her lips firmly against his.
A sharp taste coated her tongue as soon as her lips touched his. It was bitter, like fruit eaten before its time. The taste of a spell breaking lingered on her tongue and slowed her thoughts further, as powerful as poison.
Somewhere, her childhood memories whispered something about true love’s kiss breaking enchantments. Closer, the voice from earlier, her mother’s voice, cried, Get away from here, before he puts another spell on you.
Thornwood’s lips parted, and his pupils blew wide.
He leaned forward to press his lips to hers again.
The kiss was overpowering, and for a blissful instant she kissed him back, her thoughts still slow.
Then her mother’s voice shouted again. She bit down hard on his lip, and he pulled back with a cry.
“You tricked me,” Mouse whispered. “You enchanted me.”
He clutched her hand in his, his eyes frantic. “Mouse, please.”
Her memories rolled through her mind slowly, a moving picture of the last day. She saw John’s disappointed face and the parade of Faerie guests and remembered whispering her name aloud to him. Nothing made sense, and everything was wrong, although she could not quite voice why yet.
She was going to be sick in the middle of the ballroom in her wedding gown. She wanted to be alone.
But, more than anything, she wanted her brother.
“Why?” Mouse whispered, the magic still dulling her senses like the numbing throb of too much champagne.
“The choice to say yes was your own,” Thornwood pleaded. “But I could not have you backing out.”
It was as though he’d struck her. He continued speaking, his voice no louder than a whisper in her ear. Begging, she thought.
“My mother needs me. Only the Faerie King knows where she is. I had to regain my strength to face him, and a deal with a willing human was the only way I knew that would get me the power I needed. The more the house mended, the stronger I became. The King wants Thistlemarsh. The Hall is the only bargaining chip I knew would still interest him. Please understand, Mouse.”
She wanted to jerk away or lie down or be anywhere else, with anyone else. Mouse opened her mouth to say so.
The ballroom door burst open, and darkness radiated from it in a way that hurt Mouse’s eyes just as much as the brightness had. Mr. Hobb stood before them, his gardener’s clothes an oddity among the silk and damask.
He was furious. Mouse had never seen him truly angry before, but he looked as though he could kill Thornwood with his bare hands. The thought of Mr. Hobb being injured trying to protect her was too much.
“Don’t you dare hurt him,” she whispered to Thornwood. He frowned at her before addressing Mr. Hobb.
“I am afraid we did not invite you. This is a private celebration,” Thornwood said coldly. He tucked Mouse behind him. She was furious, swiping against him, but he merely brushed her aside. His eyes were trained on Mr. Hobb, his expression dark.
“I invited him,” Mouse hissed. Thornwood turned toward her in shock. “A few minutes ago, in the garden.”
“It’s no matter.” Thornwood shook his head. “The ceremony is over. You have no business here.”
“I had such high hopes for you, boy,” Mr. Hobb said. The Faerie court parted before him, their strange faces bright with curiosity. A heady mix of confusion and worry worked its way through Mouse’s chest.
“I do not know you, sir, beyond being the gardener here. You are not her father. You are merely an irritating old man.”
“I am older than I look.”
Mr. Hobb held out his hand, and an entire line of Faeries turned to frogs.
Thornwood stepped back in shock, and the remaining, untransformed creatures shrieked, scrambling over one another in their finery to escape. Mouse gaped in horror.
“Does that demonstration of magic frighten you? I can do much worse,” Mr. Hobb said. His voice had lost its aged grate. “It seems as if your entire family is doomed to fail me over and over again.”
Mr. Hobb lifted his hat, and long white hair tumbled down his back, ending at his wrists. Everything about him changed at once. Mr. Hobb, her old friend, was gone in an instant, replaced by a beautiful, cruel stranger.
“You made a mistake. You believed I forgot about this place and your banishment. You wanted to bargain with me, didn’t you?
” No-Longer-Mr.-Hobb said, working his way closer to them.
The fire in the grate quelled to embers.
“But I saw everything. I thought at first that you came here to reclaim the place for me and to restore your honor. You couldn’t resist, though, could you, when the opportunity presented itself? You wanted it all.”
“I want my mother back,” Thornwood said. “You can have the damn house, but in exchange, I want her back with me. Promise me that we will leave here together, and no harm will come to either of us, and you can take it. That’s my bargain.”
No-Longer-Mr.-Hobb sneered. “Ah, I see. So, you’ve convinced yourself that you did this for love.”
“You don’t understand the emotion, but you do understand a bargain.”
“And the girl? You would throw her over?”
“The girl comes with me as well,” Thornwood declared.
No-Longer-Mr.-Hobb laughed, and the sound was ice crunching in the deepest winter. “You have nothing.”
“I have the name of her forebears,” Thornwood said. “She just gave it to me. Misneach Dewhurst.”
“You have inherited your father’s arrogance as well, I see.”
Thornwood blanched.
“Yes, my foolish little lord. I assume you wanted to take her name to have control over her and the Hall, as she would inherit the moment you married. But you worked too slowly.
“By the time you wed, the Dewhurst title was no longer hers to give. Mouse had until the end of the month to claim Thistlemarsh. The moment the clock struck twelve, the Hall and the title passed to the next in line, per the Faerie covenant. The name that belongs to you is Dunne, her father’s name.
The name of a lowly gardener, with no property but the dirt stuck to his shoes.
“And, to top it off, the alternate Dewhurst heir is nowhere to be found. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Thornwood, what is he talking about?” Mouse asked. “Carlyle was just here. He’s not missing.”
“No matter,” No-Longer-Mr.-Hobb said, dismissing her question with a wave of his hand. “Thistlemarsh has no heir, which means it belongs not to you but to me.”
“That’s not possible. Her name is Dewhurst. Who cares about midnight and mortal titles?”
“Midnight was part of the old Faerie inheritance rules. I didn’t think it necessary to share them, until today, and by then my thoughts were addled,” Mouse said, finding her voice.
“And my uncle’s name was Dewhurst, as was my mother’s.
My father’s name was Dunne, and so is mine. Lady Dewhurst is just a title.”
Thornwood turned to Mouse, his eyes wild. “But you’re called Lady Dewhurst. Everyone in town calls you Lady Dewhurst.”
“Everyone calls you Thornwood,” Mouse retorted. Belatedly, it struck her that he intended to betray her all along. Her heart sank to her stomach, and all the while the voice in her begged her to run.
Still, Mouse could not convince her feet to move. She could not tell if it was remnants of the enchantment, her fear, or both that rooted her to the spot.
No-Longer-Mr.-Hobb caught her eye. “Come here, little dove,” he said, and traces of his old inflection returned.
The sound was unnatural, coming out of a different face.
“There is no need to fear. I’m the same as I’ve always been.
I looked after you, didn’t I? You, Bertie, and Roger.
I watched your mother growing up. Is that worth nothing in the wake of a handsome boy? ”
Mouse stepped onto the ballroom floor, but not toward No-Longer-Mr.-Hobb. She needed to leave this place.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I have been many things. But among this band of traitors and wantons, I am a king.”