“Ye accused me of stealin’…in front of my friends…at my birthday party.”
So now I was allowed to acknowledge it was her birthday. “I’m sorry. I thought—I could have sworn.”
“Alana, don’t make her beg,” Cullen chided. “It’s not like yer innocent in all of this, and she’s not well. Tell yer friends to leg it and my flask had best be behind the bar when I get down there, or it’s yer arse.”
Alana grabbed her duffle bag from the closet and blew out a sigh. “I’m outta here.” She began shoving random things in it, including her now-exposed diary.
“Ye’re not goin’ anywhere, young lady. Ye’re sixteen years old and ye need to have a little compassion right now.”
“Oh right, she’s the bloody victim.”
Móraí popped up in the doorframe as if out of thin air. “I’ll take her to my place if ye like, Cullen, so everyone can calm down.”
I looked up, embarrassed that anyone had overheard the drama.
“She’s fine here,” Cullen answered.
Móraí stood there for a moment and I could feel her judgment wash over me.
“I’ll just be on my way then. I sent Alana’s friends home already. I hope ye don’t mind my boldness, but the shoutin’ was gettin’ loud and the windows were open.”
“Thank you,” I said, wiping away my tears.
Cullen’s grandmother was an intricate part of our lives. With Cullen’s brother, her favorite grandson, Liam, gone. I knew she was only here so often because she was lonely. Still, it could get annoying and occasionally it felt like she had radar and knew just when to fly in, stir the pot and jet away—the good guy—usually with our daughter in tow.
“I’m goin’ with her and if ye say no—I’ll just run away.”
Cullen opened his mouth to argue but I held up my hand.
“Let her go, Cullen, please,” I whispered. “She’s right to be mad. I flew at her like a bat outta hell.”
Móraí put her arms around Alana and I could hear them descend the stairs.
Cullen moved to my side, dropping a kiss on my temple. “Let’s go, too, Aeval. If Alana’s smokin’ and taking wee nips from the flask then no doubt there will be some stragglers after raidin’ the liquor cabinet.”
“I definitely did at her age.” I agreed. I recounted a story from my youth, to ease the tension, one involving my Gigi’s homemade peach wine and a public pool.
Cullen laughed his way down the stairs. “Let’s hope she takes after me, then, ‘cause the worst thing I did was steal my Da’s pipe a time or two.”
“I hardly believe that.”
“It’s true. I missed my rebellious years—Liam was in trouble enough for the both of us.” We both quieted for a moment at the mention of Liam’s name. Then Cullen cleared his throat. “Anyhow, kids will be kids, right? Isn’t that what you’ve always told me?”
I nodded.
He was holding my hand, his grip sure and strong, toting me along until we reached the settee, where he pulled me down beside him. “What’s really going on?” He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, sending my pulse skittering. “Why are ye comin’ down so hard on the lass? She’s a brat to be sure, but she’s not done anythin’ that either of us hasn’t.”
“I know.”
He stood and walked to the kitchen, turning on the kettle before returning to his place beside me.
“Maybe ye should see a doctor. Ye’ve been really irritable lately. And not to come down on ye but ye’ve been poppin’ nerve pills this week like candy and drinkin’ more than I’ve ever known ye to, Aeval.”
“I don’t need to see a doctor. I know what the problem is.”
“Ye do?”
My stomach clenched. I wasn’t sure how Cullen was going to take this. “I should have told you.”
Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Better late than never.”
I moistened my lips and nodded. “Remember when Madam Brun was in Ireland.”
“Of course I do…that was after we tried to return the sapphire to the temple…when Leslie lost Liam’s….” He paused, practically choking on his brother’s name.
“Baby…yes.” I nodded. It was hard for either of us to think of Leslie’s predicament, since we’d been the ones to introduce her to Cullen’s brother, Liam, a Priest, never dreaming that he was actually a womanizing homicidal maniac.
“So what’s the big secret?” He said, getting up as we heard the kettle switch off.
“Wait!” I whispered with vehemence. I felt vulnerable. I hated feeling that way.
Cullen looked worried and so he sat back down.
“I need to tell you this now while I have the courage—it’s about…” I broke off, frowning, feeling like an idiot.
“About what?” he demanded tersely.
“Madam Brun read my cards that day and she acted strangely so I went to see her up after we were married. I was pregnant with Alanna at the time, although I didn’t know it, and I hadn’t been feeling myself. Anyway, she was the first person to tell me I was pregnant. She said she’d known it the day she saw me at the bakery. She also told me to have an abortion.”
“She told ye what?”
“I know. It sounded crazy to me as well.” My breath caught in my throat,” she said that we would have a little girl and that she would do bad things. Cullen, I didn’t think it would be possible.”
“Of course, it wasn’t possible—its rubbish, love. So, Alana’s smokin’ and angry. That’s no cause to abort. What is wrong with that woman?”
“There’s more,” I whispered.
His face fell and he walked to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. “There always is.” He paced the room.
“She said specifically that the girl I carried was destined to be very powerful—too powerful. She warned me…”
“I can’t do this right now.” He lowered his gaze. “I’m gonna head on.”
“Where?”
“I’ll check on Alana. You lie down for a rest, Aeval.” He looked up at the clock and then at me. His face was strained. “I’ll be back in two hours.”
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I don’t think that—”
“Please, Sophia!” he snapped. “Later.”
He turned and left, closing the side door behind him.
TEN
Hunedoara, Romania, 1494
A lexandra slipped unnoticed through the shadows of the east wing. She’d made this walk many times as a young girl, escaping to her lover’s chambers. A man of God was hardly free to carry on with a young girl in public.
She quickly and quietly moved through the hallways, thinking of the first evening she’d spent here at the castle twenty years earlier. With her father gone, she’d been ready to live a happy life. She’d looked forward to practicing the art of magic with her mother in their home in the woods but her mother had had other plans. She’d been all too eager to move on and leave their humble accommodations behind. An ambitious woman, she’d married and moved into her new husband, Gyorgy Stoltz’s chambers within a week. Alexandra had all but been ignored after that, until she met the raven-haired boy in this very hallway.
He was one of the first people in the castle to befriend her. They spent every day together and even some of the nights but as she got older, her mother made it clear that it was unacceptable for Alexandra to carry on with a servant.
Her mother was a powerful and controlling witch. That, alone should have been enough to make Alexandra hate her, but it wasn’t until her mother had cursed Alexandra’s lover, the raven-haired boy, that Alexandra had really learned to hate. After that, all of her focus went into learning the dark arts—under the cloak of secrecy of course.
And now she was finally in the position she’d waited for—she would exact her revenge against everyone who had ever wronged her, including her own mother.
Alexandra came to the front of the Priest’s door. She needed him on her side, to rouse the crowd when the time came and
to support her step-father the magistrate in condemning the reddish wolf. She hadn’t been inside his bed chamber in a long time, not since before Costin’s birth. Back then, the rumors had grown out of control and they’d agreed to part ways amicably. But Alexandra would enlist his help, no matter the cost, and while he wasn’t free to marry, he still had a carnal appetite to rival any man, which meant he was easy to manipulate.
Gathering her courage, she glanced at her reflection in a piece of armor hanging on the wall. Pushing her hair out of her face, she pinched her cheeks to bring up a blush. She was much older than the last time he’d taken her but she was sure he’d be just as willing. Before she could change her mind, Alexandra brought her hand to the door and knocked.
ELEVEN
I climbed the stairs and lingered in the doorway to Alana’s room.
My eyes were drawn to the flowers on her nightstand—a bouquet of yellow roses. I vaguely remembered seeing them during my tantrum but it hadn’t occurred to me that they were new. I walked to the nightstand, glancing at the open doorframe to make sure I was still alone, and inhaled deeply, pondering whether or not to open her card. I’d already invaded her privacy but she was only sixteen. What if they were from a boy, what if they were from a man—a depraved sex fiend? It was my job to protect her. I ripped open the envelope reading the message post haste.
Móraí. Of course. Who else spoiled a teenage girl with roses? I paused for a moment, confused as to when she’d brought them. They’d been on her nightstand before Móraí arrived. I shook my head, not sure of anything anymore. A slight feeling of jealousy took hold and I threw the note down, wanting to tear it into a million pieces. If I really dug deep then I had to admit I was jealous of Móraí and Alana’s relationship. They were growing closer while we were growing apart.
A breeze blew in through Alana’s window and the floral scent permeated my nostrils. Gigi hated roses, preferring wild flowers. I couldn’t agree more and yet the roses were lovely to look at. Flowers were a lot like children. They needed love and light and a delicate hand to tend to them.
What had I been thinking, overreacting the way I had? She needed guidance and love, not accusations and mistrust.
I tucked the note back into the envelope thinking of ways to apologize.
I walked the ten feet back to my own room and crawled onto my bed.
My mind was spinning—only a man would have the ability to nap right now. Lord, I could use a drink.
No. I chastised myself. Like Cullen said, drinking had become my crutch.
I took a deep breath instead and tried to relax. I’d just changed the sheets and they smelled clean and fresh. I stared at my night table where two cozy mystery novels and my ereader sat.
How had I mistaken Moby Dick for Rochus’s book? I closed my eyes and imagined it as I’d seen it earlier on Alana’s bed.
The unmistakable marking on the spine—the shimmer from within… Had it shimmered? Was I adding that detail now, or had that been what caught my eye?
I shook my head. I couldn’t be sure. I was obviously wrong, anyway. The book was locked away safe and sound the whole time. Alana didn’t even know where we kept the key.
I had overreacted, plain and simple. Alana didn’t know the Delhi Sapphire existed, let alone what it or the book could do.
We had never even told her about the past.
Perhaps we’d been wrong to keep it from her but she was sixteen now and if she was magically gifted then we needed to deal with it.
Toward daybreak, I awoke to find Cullen in bed next to me. I came up on my elbows, rubbing my eyes. “Cullen? How’s Alana?”
“Fine. Go back to sleep,” he said.
I attempted to sit up.
“Honestly, Aeval, go back to sleep.”
I was so tired that I closed my eyes. Half asleep again, I realized that he’d gotten up. But I was too close to sleep to gather the energy to wake up and find out where he was going.
I dreamed—dreamed I woke up and started looking for him. He wasn’t in the house. Then I was looking for Alana and Leslie. The door to the study was open but it turned into Madam Brun’s psychic storefront. Only the whole place began to shake and the card she’d once given Leslie was painted on the back of a giant door. It displayed a woman in a blue robe with a golden crescent moon, balanced as if she was stepping on it to keep it in place. There was something coming.
“High Priestess!” Madam shouted and pointed at Leslie as she disappeared through the door. I tried to follow but it turned to glass and I couldn’t get to the other side—couldn’t get to my family.
I woke with a start, bathed in cold sweat. I was alone. I almost leaped up in panic. I took a deep breath.
From the kitchen, I could hear the reassuring sound of Cullen’s voice. Then a clattering noise alerted me to the fact that he was making coffee. I went into the kitchen and found him in jeans and a crisp blue shirt, red hair freshly washed and combed back.
“Good mornin’, sleepy head,” he said, pouring a cup of coffee. I felt my cheeks grow warm as his gaze raked my body through the short thin nightie. He set the coffee pot down on the counter and pulled me to him.
I melted into him as his lips claimed mine. I felt dizzy from his kiss … or maybe it was from the lack of food. Either way, the kiss was a good sign that Cullen wasn’t mad.
The buzzer on the stove interrupted us, and he pulled away to check the oven.
Smoked Salmon and Cream Cheese Frittata.
“I haven’t smelled that dish in years,” I said, inhaling deeply.
Cullen beamed as he sliced and dished me out a piece.
“Shouldn’t ye be at the bookstore by now?”
“Not for another hour.” I took a bite, letting the dill and smoked salmon flavor meld with the silky cream cheese texture. “You obviously used your mother’s recipe. It’s delicious.”
He sat across from me, giving me his full attention. “Ye have time to chat…”
I stopped eating and looked up. This was Cullen’s favorite comfort food—the fact that he’d made it told me he was preparing himself for something.
“I’m ready to hear the story … about Alana. The whole of it if ye wouldn’t mind, and don’t be leavin’ anythin’ out.”
TWELVE
Hunedoara, Romania, 1494
M uffled voices became audible. Groggy and confused, Sofia, who had just been drifting off to sleep, sat up, startled. She instantly recognized the voice of Alexandra Cuza, Vilhem’s wife. She was plump and harsh, with a hooked nose that made Sofia think of a hawk, or some other hungering bird of prey.
At sixteen, Sofia knew better than to come out of her room and yet she could hardly sleep through the intrusion. She pushed back the blankets and peeked through a crack in the door.
Alexandra paced in agitated strides, her skirts swishing about her legs. Sofia did her best to ignore the damp footprints on the wood floor but she resented them almost as much as she resented this evil woman’s presence. She would have to clean those floors later; her mother, Elena, had fallen ill, like much of the town and was surely in no shape.
“Alexandra, calm yourself,” Vilhem said. His firm voice quieted the woman for only a moment. “I am caring for Elena so that Sofia may get some sleep.”
“Your precious daughter must always come first.”
Vilhem stepped forward and tugged at Alexandra’s arm until she faced him. “Lower your voice or she’ll hear you. Why have you come in the middle of the night?”
“You know why. Mother’s condition has worsened!” She whirled and grabbed Elena from her bed, gripping the front of her dress in white-knuckled fists. “I know you can help her. And if you refuse me now, Elena, I vow revenge.”
Sofia watched her mother as she stirred from her slumber, looking gaunt and confused.
“What makes you so hateful?” Vilhem gritted his teeth. “You were the one who invited her into our marriage. You begged her to bear our children, and she said yes for your sake.”
“For my sake? Oh, that’s a fine tale. This whole affair has been for my benefit, has it?” Alexandra laughed and turned to Elena who was now sitting. “I suppose neither one of you took pleasure in it?”
“Enough...” Elena said, attempting to cut in. “Sofia is in bed and needn’t hear us bicker. Vilhem, please go outside to handle this.”
Vilhem moved to open the door.
“Alexandra was just leaving.”
Alexandra stopped laughing. “I gave you a son. What did she ever give you? A worthless girl.”
Vilhem’s face fell into deep shadow. “Watch your tongue! The girl does not know.”
“And what of our son? Is he not deserving of your love?”
“Yes, he is. Costin has been a good boy. He will make a good leader someday, but we both know I am not his true father. It’s no secret that you take another to your bed.”
Alexandra’s face twisted, turning an even deeper shade of red and Sofia cringed. No good would come of this.
“Return to your mother’s bedside and speak to no one else.”
THIRTEEN
I finished my story and waited for Cullen to speak. I wasn’t sure which part irked him most but I had an idea.
“Catastrophic events. Who talks like that? Con artists, that’s who! I knew somethin’ was the matter when ye got back from that trip. Why did ye lie to me?”
“I didn’t—I just didn’t tell you.”
“Pardon me, I’ll grant ye the difference. We promised we were goin’ to tell each other everythin’. Do ye remember that day, Sophia—the day we put ma into the ground? ‘Cause I remember it well and I’ve tried to live by those words every day since. ‘No more secrets,’ ye said.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wish now that I had told you. I didn’t believe it then but Cullen…”
“Awe, Sophia. Don’t tell me ye believe it now. Ye keep on her tail like that and ye’ll be after creatin’ problems.”
“Sandra told me Alana would kill someone.”
“Alana, kill someone? Never. I’ll stake my life on it.”
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 73
