Chapter 27
I stare across the table, repulsed by my own husband as he noisily eats a slice of crusty bread with honey and butter. Butter mingles with his stubble, and each smacking sound of his lips raises my gorge more. Was he always this disgusting?
He glances up from his food, his eyes questioning. Grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth, he asks, “Is breakfast not to your liking, wife?”
“It is.” A closed-mouthed smile follows my hasty bite. I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with the food, but the honey tastes bitter and the butter like grease. I force myself to chew and swallow before immediately drinking my entire glass of milk.
I pull my pocket watch from my dress and peer at the time. “I should get going,” I say, pushing my chair back to stand. My shift in the bindery doesn’t begin for another hour or so, but he doesn’t know my schedule.
As I walk past Gruffud, he grasps my wrist, tugging me to him. “No kiss for your husband?”
Swallowing, I turn and lean down to press my lips to his. His fingers tangle in my hair as he holds me captive for annoyingly longer than necessary before letting me go.
I grab my satchel from the bedchamber and head downstairs to ask Sage to call for a carriage. My heart warms at the thought of seeing Neris again while being wrapped in the familiarity of working among the books.
Ten minutes later, the carriage barely pulls up in front of Mother’s house before Neris runs out. She crushes me in a hug, and when she steps back, her eyes are assessing as they sweep from my head to my toes. Tears well in my eyes, my throat aching from the fight to keep them at bay.
“Oh Winnie,” she says tenderly. “Let’s get inside. There are books that require painting. Your favorite, right?”
I nod though she doesn’t need the answer. Sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself.
She links her elbow with mine, and we hurry down the walkway together. But as soon as I step into the house, I’m flocked by Mother and Arionna.
“My daughter,” says Mother in a strangely airy tone. She places her hands on my shoulders as Neris had. “How are you faring? Are you treating him well? Keeping him satisfied? Are you getting enough nourishment? You look a little pallid.” She puts her hands on my cheeks a tad too roughly.
I step out from her grasp. “I’m eating just fine. Everything is wonderful. I have to get to work.”
The entrance to the mudroom feels too far away as I rush to it with Neris right behind me.
Yet by the time I’m downstairs, greeted by the scent of leather in the bindery, Neris is nowhere to be seen.
She arrives several moments later with a porcelain plate balanced on her palm.
There’s an assortment of pastries on it, and for once, the sweet smell does nothing to tempt me.
“Your mother says to bring these for you.”
I arch my brows.
“She’s overjoyed with the possibility of getting a grandchild.”
“A grand—” My words are cut off by the realization. “No.” I hold my hand to my stomach. “She’s mistaken.”
Neris sets the plate aside. “How are you certain? Are you doing anything to prevent it?”
I sigh and approach the workstation where my paints are waiting along with a stack of books. “I’ve been taking a fertility suppressant.”
Surprise ghosts over her face as she sets her spectacles on her nose.
“I didn’t tell you because I hadn’t quite decided on using it yet, but I am.” I pick up a sleeve of parchment with a list of names written on it.
A smirk on her lips, Neris moves toward her workstation. “Good on you, Winnie.”
For a while there’s silence while I read through the list of designs required for each book and Neris begins checking books for imperfections before stacking them into a crate. When she speaks again, it startles me for multiple reasons.
“Arionna is fucking someone.”
I cough to dislodge the gasp that gets stuck in my throat. “Neris!”
“What?” Her smile is cherubic, false innocence shining in her emerald eyes.
I set the book down and select my thinnest paintbrush, looking closely at the bristles to check for splits. It seems intact. “Perhaps a different word choice?” I dip my paintbrush into the green paint. “Making love? Lying with? Doing the horizontal dance?”
She guffaws just as I’m about to begin painting foliage on the border of the leather book cover. “We don’t know the extent of the relationship to infer something as meaningful as making love. And I’ve lain with you plenty of times.”
“Ner—”
“—in your bed! Don’t be crass.”
I roll my eyes.
“And horizontal dance? Winnie, please.” She winks at me, then pauses to focus on the engraving. “Fine. Arionna has been bedding someone. Since shortly before your wedding.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I was covering for one of the servants and discovered your sister’s stash of fertility suppressant tea while I was cleaning.” She shrugs.
“Interesting. I’m sure it’s some affluent nobleperson. But imagine if it’s a lowborn. Or worse, a Grounder.”
Neris laughs. “Realms, I’d love to see that.”
We laugh and come up with even more farfetched scenarios—per my family’s beliefs—before silence settles in the room again for a while.
As I paint tiny leaves around the book, it brings a sort of stillness within me, temporarily making me forget about everything else.
When there are five books drying in a line on the workstation, I step away to stretch my stiff back and fingers.
It feels good to get lost in such a creative outlet. I dread returning to the Pendrys.
“Winnie, are you happy?” Neris asks.
I don’t want to lie to her, so I simply keep my mouth shut and step up to my workstation again. “It’s mealtime.” I finish putting my jars of paint into a wooden chest. “I’ll see you upstairs.”
“Winnie …” She calls after me, but I keep walking, knowing that she still has a lot to put away before she can follow. It’ll at least give me the chance to pretend that I am, indeed, happy.
As I step into my childhood home the next morning, Arionna rushes down the steps with a cape draped over her arm and a frazzled look on her face. She spots me and reels back, pressing a hand over her heart before smoothing her hands over her ebony coils.
“Gwyn,” she says breathlessly. “You’re early.” A headpiece comprised of three strands of silver and gold beads wraps around her head—her tight curls are otherwise loose. Light kohl lines her lashes today, making them look even longer and thicker than usual.
“I’m … on time.” My eyes dart to the clock on the wall and back to her.
She continues walking toward me, now swinging her cloak over her wine-colored gown and fastening it with a golden broach. There’s an odd look in her eyes, an awkward smile on her lips that doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of her face.
“Where are you off to so early?” I ask.
Her plump lips tug down. “Sterling’s manor.
His brother is selling the estate, but he wants me to help him sort through some of Sterling’s possessions.
You know, since I spent more time with him than anyone else in his final days.
He wants to ensure his more prized items be handled with sensitivity. ”
It’s not often Arionna speaks of her late husband. I try to keep the surprise from my face and out of my voice. “That sounds very considerate. It’s kind of you to agree. Will you be alright going there by yourself?”
Again, that odd smile. “Hamish is coming along.”
The footman is hardly company. Aside from driving the carriage, I’m not sure what support he can offer Arionna. Especially when it comes to this already emotionally stunted family of mine. “What about Mother?” I ask.
Arionna laughs—and rightfully so—as she steps past me. She pats me on the shoulder as if I’m Erleya’s most naive child, then sweeps out of the house without another word.
Bizarre. But when is Arionna anything but? Even when we were children, she was always up to something, always in a hurry, always secretive. Rolling my shoulders to dissolve the tension from simply being in my sister’s presence, I make my way to the book bindery.
To the last haven I have in this miserable life.
Dry grass rustles beneath our feet as we trod through a dense copse of trees within the dark forest. The night air is cool, the moonlight soothing. Though I use small bits of my magic daily, it’s been a while since I’ve unleashed it enough to feel settled in my own skin.
“I kind of miss this,” Neris says beside me.
“My magic bullying me?” I ask.
She chuckles. “In a way, yes.”
I nudge her hard with my elbow, and she yelps through her laughter.
“No, just heading to the forest with you. It gives me a chance to pretend that we’re getting out of here.”
“Neris, don’t start.”
Small wisps of smoke billow into the air up ahead, and the alluring aroma of savory spices that drift toward us almost has me salivating. “Smells like a feast,” Neris says, reflecting my own thoughts.
“It does.” I inhale deeply, wishing that dinners at home smelled this delectable.
Scattered beams of moonlight shine down through the trees to illuminate our way. Soon, the flicker of orange in the darkness catches my attention. What if it’s Peacekeepers or some other faction of soldiers?
“We should turn—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence before a heavyset man leaps out from the bushes as we’re about to approach. I hold up my fists, ready to call my terraforging when Neris shouts, “We’re unarmed!”
The man lowers what looks like a butcher’s knife, and I find myself unable to exhale fully.
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s hard to trust anyone these days.
” He tucks his butcher knife into the back of his pants while my heart hammers.
“We’re just traveling through here. Do you …
” He gestures in the direction he’d just come from. “Want to join us for dinner?”
“Yes!” Neris exclaims at the same time as I say “no.” She tugs me into the clearing after the man. “Then you’ll have some fuel for your terraforging,” she whispers to me.