Chapter 51
I feel like a caged animal.
My dragon is tearing at my chest, wanting to burn down the crystal chandeliers, silk drapes, and all the rest of the ridiculous decor, not to mention the power-hungry Elites who are eyeing Theo like she’s the tastiest treat on the buffet.
Beside me, Jordan is giggling and giddy; her skin has been tanned so hard it’s glowing orange, even more startling against her stark white gown. Her hard terracotta tits are bursting the seams of the white lace.
She shakes her bright blonde hair and it whips me in the face. Next to Theo she looks like a Vegas showgirl in the presence of a goddess.
“A beautiful evening for a beautiful couple,” Sylvia Singleton-Smith slurs, drifting toward us.
My future mother-in-law has vacant, glassy eyes and a trail of gin down the front of her maroon taffeta.
She reaches out, her hand shaking slightly as she pats my cheek, smelling of juniper and Chanel no.
5. “Try to look happy, Cosmo. It’s... it’s a celebration. ”
“Absolutely, Sylvia,” I reply, my voice as flat as the champagne in my other hand. She’s already looking past me, searching for the next refill. Next my own mother wanders closer.
“Cosmo,” she whispers.
Mother has an ‘attendent’ called Marta. It’s been years since I’ve seen my mother without Marta holding her upright.
“Good evening, Mother.”
Her pupils are huge, and her body is stick thin. She’s dressed in a burgundy gown that is at least a size too big. I wouldn’t be surprised if Marta chose it. I’m sure Mother can no longer dress herself.
I wonder for a moment what her current drug of choice is, but then remind myself I don’t care. Why should I?
I turn away.
Janine Hart is still standing beside Theo, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder. Theo’s eyes are calm, her expression bland.
But I can feel the vibration of her terror. Since we kissed it’s as though her every emotion is broadcast straight to my heart.
I’m glad to see Ludo standing a dozen feet behind Theodora, his eyes darting around the room, looking for trouble.
Scanning the crowd, I find my sister. She’s standing near the edge of the fountain, looking small and fragile in a white dress that seems to swallow her whole.
It’s almost a gown for a little child, with a pearl-encrusted sash around the middle that’s tied in a bow at the back.
Her eyes are wide with a fear I don’t understand.
Not yet.
The music swells, then dies away into an eager silence. My father and Alistair step onto the dais and signal for Jordan and I take a seat on our golden ‘thrones’.
Gods, this is it. The blessing.
Alistair speaks first. His voice is deep and commands the room.
He talks of legacy, of the strength of the Elite, and the ‘blessing’ of the union between our houses. It’s the usual drivel, a gilded lie for the masses to swallow. Jordan preens beside me, tilting her head to catch the light, playing the part of the perfect, vapid Barbie-bride.
Then my father steps forward and a shiver runs up my spine.
“Tonight is about more than just the union of Cosmo and Jordan,” Tyrus says, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “It is about the total consolidation of our future. To ensure the purity of our lines, I am proud to announce a second alliance.”
He gestures toward the shadow behind the dais. Thomas Crankshawe steps forward. The man is disgusting—not the greasy hair and skin, it’s the small eyes that watch young girls with a predatory hunger.
“I have officially signed the papers,” Tyrus continues, his voice completely controlled. “Thomas Crankshawe has been granted legal guardianship of my daughter, Aurora, effective immediately. She will move to his estate tonight, and upon her eighteenth birthday, they will be joined in marriage.”
The room remains silent for a moment, then there’s a scattering of applause.
Applause.
I feel the world tilt. Rory is sixteen. She’s a child. And Crankshawe—the man who raped Theo’s mother—is looking at her like a piece of meat he’s just purchased at auction.
The chatter and clapping dies away, and into the hush is a trembling high-pitched voice.
“No, no! I won’t do this, I won’t go!”
“Aurora, be silent,” Tyrus snaps, his eyes flashing of punishment to come. But then they change. He nods to Thomas, acknowledging Crankshawe now makes the decisions when it comes to my sister.
My sister who has snapped.
“Aurora, come here,” Thomas Crankshawe commands.
She lunges towards the nearest table then runs at the dais. I don’t see until the last second a steak knife in her hand. And she drives it straight into Thomas Crankshawe’s side.
Thomas lets out a guttural roar, staggering back as blood blooms across his white shirt. The crowd gasps, a wave of panic rippling through the room.
“You pig!” Aurora screams, her face twisted in a mask of unadulterated rage. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you!”
She tries to strike again, but Francois de Vaux is there in a heartbeat, grabbing her wrist and twisting the knife away. His usual sardonic mask is nowhere to be seen. He looks horrified.
For her? For his father?
Thomas is clutching his side, his face turning a mottled purple. He isn't scared; he’s humiliated. He’s furious. He lunges at Aurora, his hand connecting with her face in a crack that echoes off the vaulted ceiling.
“You little bitch,” Thomas hisses, then looks at Tyrus. “She needs more than guardianship. I want her broken.” He pulls his hand away from the wound. I can see it’s not deep, not dangerous—unfortunately.
Tyrus looks at his daughter with a cold, detached disgust. “Do what you will with her, Thomas. She is your responsibility now.”
“Fine,” Thomas growls. He signals to his own personal guards. “Take her. She isn't going to my estate. She’s going to Quo Reformare—tonight! We’ll see how much fight she has left after a few months of discipline.”
“No! Cosmo, help me!” Aurora screams as the guards drag her toward the side exit. Her heels scrape against the marble floor. “COSMO!”
I start to step forward, my dragon roaring in my chest, but Tyrus’s hand clamps onto my shoulder. His grip is like iron.
“Don’t,” he whispers, his voice a lethal promise. “The ceremony is not over. You have a duty, Cosmo. You are aware of your role, are you not?”
I’m aware of his scrutiny, so quickly adjust my attitude. “That was an embarrassment,” I tell him as I watch guards drag Rory away, followed by a hobbling Crankshawe.
Beside me, Jordan lets out a small, annoyed huff, as if Aurora’s kidnapping and impending torture is nothing more than a social faux pas that’s ruining her big moment. Mother just stares at the empty space where her daughter was, blinking slowly before shrugging.
Across the room, I see Theo. Her eyes are no longer vacant. They are burning with a fire that matches the one in my gut.
—Cosmo…we destroy Janine…destroy the dark energy…then we get Aurora back…we won’t let that monster have her—
Father releases his grip, his expression settling back into the mask of the sophisticated Elite. Snapping his fingers, he orders the nearby servants to clean the mess of Crankshawe’s blood staining the dais.
Turning back to the room, his voice projects over the gossiping guests. “A minor family dispute. Nothing to disrupt the festivities. We proceed.”
I feel like I’m moving underwater. The orchestra strikes up Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings.
The one thing I was allowed to choose for the ceremony.
It’s appropriately funereal and miserable.
The profound grief singing from stringed instruments is perfect for the moment my soul is tethered to Jordan’s.
“Jordan,” my father commands.
She bounces forward and eagerly takes my hand. Alistair holds the ritual dagger and his manservant has a heavy silver chalice on a tray, ready to catch our blood.
“The Lock and Key,” Alistair intones, and for a moment, I see a swirl of dark smoke in his eyes.
He makes a shallow cut in Jordan’s palm, then mine.
A feeling of pure revulsion sweeps over me as he presses our hands together over the chalice.
My father is intoning the spellwork and I can feel the magic begin to bind me.
Cold, dark energy starts at my wrist and begins to crawl up my arm like poison.
Oh Gods, I feel a deep, bone-deep panic start in my stomach.
—Cosmo—
I can’t pull my focus towards her voice.
—Dragon boy, look at me…please—
Finally, I pull my gaze away from the mingling blood and shift my gaze until I see Theodora. She’s staring at me intently, her silver eyes almost glowing.
—Focus on me, Cosmo…I’ve got you—
With everything I have, I wish that were true.
I want to weep.
And then.
A warmth.
My cold, cracked heart fills with heat. Beneath my skin my dragon flexes, almost like he’s preening. He senses it before I do.
Her magic. It’s taking the binding spell, wrapping it in a golden light, containing it. It is no longer seeping into my cells, twisting me into something I don’t want to be.
Instead, I see more clearly than ever, who I want to be.
A man worthy of a goddess.
Jordan gasps. Her eyes are rolled back slightly as she feels the magic take hold as she is successfully shackled to the idea of me. But on my end?
Nothing. Freer than the day I was born.
“It is done,” Alistair declares, raising our joined hands.
The room erupts into applause—genuine this time, the guests relieved to return to the script of a high-society engagement. Jordan throws her arms around my neck, squealing about how she can ‘already feel our souls touching.’
Feeling nothing but a cold, hard resolve, I look over her shoulder, searching for Theo. Janine is leading her toward the edge of the ballroom, heading for the drinks table.
—Thank you, Theodora…thank you from everything I am…I’m still free—