by Eva Chase
A persnickety part of me kind of wanted to experiment to find out. And to see the look on my stepmother’s face.
“Well, make sure to get out something appropriate for his arrival,” Celestine said.
“I’m sure Rose knows how to dress herself by now, dear one.” My father patted both of us on the shoulders as if we’d been having an affectionate conversation. “I believe dinner is nearly ready. Shall we freshen up and assemble in the dining room?”
The thought of walking deeper into the house made my chest clench tighter. An excuse tumbled out of me. “I think I forgot something in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I managed to walk at a normal pace out the door and down the steps. Then I hurried toward the gate. My fingers dug under my sleeve, unwinding the ribbon as I went.
The tall wrought-iron bars glowered down at me. I clutched the ribbon—white, the one I’d always thought of as mine among its five companions of other colors. My pulse hitched. Then I reached up and tied the ribbon by one of the hinges. Loosely, roughly, as if it might have blown away and simply gotten tangled there.
“What’s that meant to accomplish?” Philomena asked, cocking her head.
I stepped back with a breath that came easier. “I’m not sure,” I said. “I guess we’ll see.”
The leaves on the oak outside my bedroom window rustled with the rising wind. I drew my feet up under me on the armchair where I was curled up with a book. After dinner, I’d told Dad and Celestine I was heading right to bed, but instead I’d started unpacking my library.
The built-in shelves around the room were only half full. I’d gotten sucked into one novel along the way. The rest could wait.
“I’m sure that story can’t be half so exciting as mine,” Philomena said where she’d flopped down on my bed. She was slightly prone to envy. One of her very few faults, she liked to say.
“I don’t know,” I teased. “It’s pretty good. Maybe I’ll have a new favorite.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Oh, very lady-like.” I waggled the book at her. “Haven’t you always said that a girl needs a little variety?”
“In men,” Phil said. “Not novels. And even when it comes to men, I did settle down with one in the end.”
“I’m pretty sure that library you snuck into for your trysts had more than one book in it.”
She huffed, but she was smiling. “Well, perhaps.”
“Anyway, this is the only way I’m getting any variety of men,” I said.
“Which really is a shame. You could be the talk of the ton.”
“There isn’t a ‘ton’ anymore,” I pointed out.
“You know what I mean, Rose.”
I did. There was a reason that for all my diverse literary interests, about half of my collection was romances both historical and modern. I was three months shy of twenty-five, and I’d never even kissed a guy. On the lips, anyway.
That kind of intimacy was supposed to be reserved for my consort, to kindle the spark inside me that would bring me my power. But I was hoping that Derek and I could generate other sorts of sparks once we were finally allowed to get down to it. The witching men were discouraged from much physical intimacy with any witch until the consorting was complete. We women would have a lot less incentive to settle down if we were getting our spark lit wherever we wanted.
Until our time ran out, at least.
“I can have plenty of fun still, when the time comes,” I said to Philomena, and waved the bad boy billionaire romance I was racing through again. “This is research as much as entertainment.”
“Hmm,” Phil said as if she wasn’t totally convinced. To be fair, I wasn’t either. The couples in these books always seemed to be blown away by their attraction just looking at each other. Derek, well… He’d been the most appealing of the options I’d had. So I would make the best of it. This was real life. Passion could take time to kindle.
It wasn’t as if I had a lot of choice in the matter.
Thinking about that, about seeing him tomorrow and starting the preparations for the consort ceremony, made me feel twice as tired as I’d been from the drive. I set down the book on the arm of the chair and turned off the lamp.
“All right, you got your wish. I’m leaving Claudia and her domineering lover behind for the night. Now shove over.”
Phil scooted over to the far end of the bed, where she sat primly propped up against the headboard. I crawled under the feather duvet and buried my head in the pillow.
The tension inside me unraveled with each slow inhale and exhale. I was drifting away when a branch of the oak tree rapped right against the window. The wind must have picked up even more.
Then the rapping came again, more insistently. My heart skipped. That wasn’t a branch.
I sat up and turned to the window. The pale moonlight outside caught on a hovering face—and the line of my white ribbon pressed against the glass.
Want to read more of Rose’s story? It’s free with Kindle Unlimited! Grab Consort of Secrets here.
About the Author
Eva Chase lives in Canada with her family. She loves stories both swoony and supernatural, and strong women and the men who appreciate them. Along with the Looking-Glass Curse trilogy, she is the author of the Their Dark Valkyrie series, the Witch’s Consorts series, the Dragon Shifter’s Mates series, the Demons of Fame Romance series, the Legends Reborn trilogy, and the Alpha Project Psychic Romance series.
Connect with Eva online:
www.evachase.com
[email protected]
