“Eleanora, at last.” My stepmother’s voice was sharp. All pretense of care and empathy had disappeared. Bonnie stood beside her, her face cast downwards as grief pressed upon us all. They stood by the door to the closet; a single black dress hung from the three-paned mirror.
“Undress and let us begin. I refuse to have you make a mockery of me in an ill-fitting gown,” she said as she pointed to the small stand in front of us. I was quick to comply, though I hesitated when I brought my hands to the veil and hood I wore.
“Leave it,” came Madam Jupiter’s order, filled with disgust. “I do not need another reminder of my husband’s death.”
Bonnie assisted me into the black gown, which had it been any other occasion, I would have loved. It was high necked and long sleeved, but had a deep v-neck, dipping nearly to my belly button. Black lace covered it, maintaining my modesty, and the rest of the gown flowed down over my hips, dropping loosely until it swirled around my knees. It was covered entirely in lustrous black beads, the light reflecting off of them as if the dress was covered in iridescent scales.
Madam Jupiter watched silently as Bonnie moved around me quickly, the other girl assisting her, as she quickly tailored the gown to my measurements, not having the same voluminous curves as my airheaded stepsister.
Finally I was fitted to my stepmother’s satisfaction, and she stepped forward with a mask. Bonnie let out a quiet gasp when she saw it and I startled. It was a grotesquely beautiful raven’s mask that reminded me of the medieval plague doctors with its long sharp beak. Its only embellishments were matching beads attached in a way to suggest feathers along the forehead and cheeks.
She handed it to me and I reached out for it, my hands shaking as I looked up at her face. It was hard and cold, and I struggled to understand why she hated me so much. Our lives could have been so different if she had even treated me with the respect of a parentless child. If she couldn’t have offered me love, she could have at least offered me friendship.
She turned away from me as Bonnie removed my veil and hood, refusing to look at my face. Only when Bonnie let her know I was ready, my hair pulled back tightly into a simple French twist, did she look at me.
“You’ll do,” she said, nodding once. “You will wait downstairs in the foyer until we are ready to leave.”
I wanted to cry as I watched Beatrice fix my mask to her face, even as she grumbled, while we drove to the estate.
“I don’t know why I have to wear something so simple,” she said, annoyed. “I had that lovely peacock mask picked out, and now I look terribly plain.”
She was right, honestly, though I could not dredge up any pity for her. I didn’t know if I was more sad or angry—my emotions rioting around me, flipping from one end of the spectrum to the other with no discernable trigger. All I knew was that I felt delicate, that I was one simple mistake or frustration away from crying.
“You are wearing it because I want you to,” Madam Jupiter said as she pulled her black gloves onto her bare arms. “That is all you should care about.”
“Yes, Mama,” she answered with a roll of her eyes.
The car stopped and a footman opened it, assisting Titania and Beatrice out of the limousine.
“Eleanora, please help me with my mask,” Madam Jupiter commanded, and I slid carefully beside her and reached for the delicate ends of the silken ties. “Tonight you will not leave my side. I have made multiple arrangements for your future. If you displease me tonight, or try to escape, you will not like the decision I make for you. Is that understood?”
I nodded and she pulled away, reaching for the footman’s hand. “Good.”
Walking into the large estate, I was reminded of the first evening, when I was terrified but determined. Now more than ever, I felt on my own. But I hoped that I would find my allies in the crowd, if they did not disappear downstairs. Somehow, I would have to give them a sign, to let them know that I was Ella and that Beatrice wore my mask instead.
Obediently, I stayed close to my stepmother, my stepsisters at her side as well, as she flitted from conversation to conversation. Her peers would glance at me, questions clearly in their eyes, but when Madam Jupiter made no move to introduce me, they said nothing.
I kept looking around the room, hoping to see one of my men, to silently beg them to come to my rescue. I captured a glance of Romulus, his leather mask the same as the first evening, and I hoped Madam Jupiter’s movements would take us in his direction, but when I stepped towards him, Beatrice grabbed my arm.
“You can’t go over there, silly,” she chided me as if I were a young child. “That area is the shifters, and we are supposed to stay with the warlocks tonight. Goodness, it is a good thing mother wanted us to keep our eye on you.”
“Yes, babysitting duty is exactly what I wanted,” Titania said, and rolled her eyes. She snagged a champagne flute from a passing server.
Dammit. But if we had to stay with the warlocks, and Romulus was upstairs, I looked around anxiously for Merlin.
My heart leaped into my throat when I saw him walking right to us.
Chapter 21
Merlin
I hated this fucking night already. The suit was nice, I had to give Brom’s tailor credit where it was due, but it didn’t mean I fucking felt comfortable. When I had shown up at my family’s town car, ready and presentable on time, my father and mother had looked mildly surprised and gave a slight nod of approval. I made a point not to fucking talk to the wankers and I wondered what it would have been like to have parents who weren’t powermongers, and saw me as more than just another fucking way to climb to the top.
I loved reminding them that I wouldn’t be their trained monkey, dancing at the end of a leash, begging for love. I’d made it clear when my power manifested, and I’d seen the dreams of glory in their eyes that I’d rather live on the streets than dance to their tune. We had a truce, one that I toed very carefully, but they even more so. I’d only grown stronger since I was sixteen, and the only people who would rival me in a fight would be Brom or Romulus. When I’d found my father beating one of his mistresses, I had lashed out at him and made it clear I could and would squash him with my power before he could raise a shield in defense.
Thinking of how he’d pissed himself made me smile, even years later.
But now, surrounded by the maneuvering politics that I hated, making idle conversation with those I couldn’t even name—I hated how Brom played on my sense of nobility. He knew none of us could see a woman dangled as bait for a power hook. So, while I understood and agreed with hunting this lady down, I would complain about it the entire time. At least to myself.
But all thoughts of the Bediver daughter fled when I spotted Ella in the crowd. My heart beat against my chest as I marched forward, the crowds moving out of my way with quiet grunts of annoyance, and then it dropped when I recognized the blonde beauty next to her—the very woman my father wanted me to marry. Her face was masked, but my father had conveyed to me what she’d be wearing and made it clear I was expected to speak with her that night.
There was another woman, dressed in a black gown that looked nearly draconic with a raven mask. Bold choice, since ravens were often looked at as ill omens.
Ella was turned towards the raven woman and I coughed politely, even though I wanted to sweep her into my arms. I thought of our kiss in the early hours of our day, and then the bargain I had made with my father. If I could find a woman of suitable “quality” and get her to agree to my courting her, my father would not pressure me to make a match with Titania. The fact that Ella was here with Titania gave me hope that she could at least buy me more time in bachelorhood.
Ella turned, and I frowned. It was her mask . . . but the eyes behind it were not her.
“Oh, hello,” the woman said, her voice higher pitched than Ella’s.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, “I thought you were someone else.”
“Merlin?” Titania asked, her voice simpering as she held out her han
d. I gripped it lightly, refusing to bow over it. “It is you! How wonderful. I had hoped to see you tonight.”
“Titania,” I greeted through clenched teeth. I felt someone’s stare and I looked to see the raven woman staring at me, her eyes covered by dark lace. I cocked my head in interest. She felt familiar. “And who might this be?”
“Oh, she’s our stepsister,” Titania said dismissively. I may not have found Ella, but at least I’d found the woman Brom wanted to rescue. I reached out for her hand and she placed hers in mine, squeezing tightly. I startled and looked down to where our hands were joined and my eyes jolted back up to hers.
“I do not believe we’ve met,” I said slowly, even as she still clung to my hand. “What is your name?”
“Social settings upset her,” the one wearing Ella’s mask confided. “So don’t expect much conversation out of her. Oh, her name is Eleanora.”
“Eleanora,” I said softly, and she squeezed my hand once more. “What a lovely name.”
“Ella, let go of the man,” Titania hissed, and I dropped her hand even as Titania tried to step between us. “Beatrice, take her back to Mama, would you?”
My head was spinning and I looked for Brom or Romulus, but knew they wouldn’t—couldn’t—come to my side, not tonight.
Beatrice, the other sister, I presumed, shrieked and I looked back to see Ella collapsing. I pushed Titania aside and gathered Ella into my arms, cradling her to my chest.
“I’ll take her somewhere private,” I said, looking up at the crowd around us.
“Nonsense, she needs to go home,” Titania said, and I felt Ella clutch me tightly. With her in my arms, I knew without a doubt it was our same Ella.
“I insist,” I said as I stood. I could see Madam Jupiter walking through the crowd towards us, and my instinct told me to get Ella away from her. “I know where she can recover without inconveniencing anyone.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Madam Jupiter said as she reached us, “but I think it best that I send her home.”
Fuck, I knew what I needed to say and I hated it. I looked down at the woman in my arms and silently asked for her forgiveness. “I insist, Madam Jupiter. I would be remiss if I did not assist my future sister-in-law.”
Madam Jupiter looked hard at me, even as Titania fucking squealed next to me.
“Of course,” the older woman finally relented, and stepped out of my way. “I cannot refuse such a chivalrous offer.”
“I will see that she’s well taken care of, madam,” I said, putting as much respect into my tone as I could. “Please, continue to enjoy your evening. I will be sure that someone checks on her throughout the evening.”
I stared straight ahead as I walked towards the hall where we’d first met. She burrowed her face as much as she could in my chest and I hated that damn raven mask. I wondered if it had been her idea or someone else’s.
I carefully opened the door, refusing to set Ella down, and locked it after us. I doubted Brom and Romulus would seek us out, there was too much being settled tonight politically for us all to disappear.
“Ella?” I asked as I set her down in the chair I thought of as my own. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, even as she wrapped her hands around herself, staying silent.
“Do you want me to get you a drink? I can take off your mask,” I offered as I reached up towards it. But she pulled away and I held up my hands, backing away.
She looked around and pushed past me to the small writing table nestled in the corner. I tugged off my mask, dropping it on the table as I watched her write something out, the pen scratching furiously across the paper.
She turned and shoved it towards me and I grabbed it.
“What the fucking shit is this? Are you goddamned serious?” I asked after reading the note, incredulous at what it said. She lifted up her arms in a way that clearly was a snarky retort and I concentrated, pulling up my magic and scanning her. Sure enough, she was enchanted, her ability to speak cut off. “Why the fuck would your stepmother take your voice?”
She marched back to the writing desk and I made to follow, but stopped at the drink cart and poured myself a double of dark spiced rum. Fuck, this shit was more serious than Brom expected. She handed me another page.
I wasn’t supposed to be here the last two nights. I snuck out and to say that she is mad is a vast understatement. I need your help to get away from her. Please believe me.
“I do, Ella,” I said, and knocked back the rum. I shook my head as the alcohol burned down my throat and filled my stomach with warmth. “I’ll send word to Brom and Romulus. We’ll figure out something.”
I didn’t know what the fuck we’d do, but I knew that since it was her, our Ella—the woman who’d bewitched us so thoroughly—we’d figure it out, and not even the syndicates would stand in our way.
She stood before me, dressed in black, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped, and it made my chest ache in an unfamiliar way. She still clutched the pen and notepad in her hands.
“Ella?” I asked, as I reached out to tip her chin up. “Why won’t you show your face?”
She startled and I knew the question surprised her. I tried my best to keep my face open, but I wasn’t like Brom—and I knew she saw the emotions I fought there. She wrote slowly and looked away as she handed me it.
I am not beautiful. I’m afraid of what you will do when you see my face.
“Hey,” I said softly, dropping the pad to the chair as I gathered her in my arms. “You are more than your face, Ella. You trust me with helping you—do you think you could trust me tonight with your face?” I felt her freeze in my arms, so tightly that she began to shake and I shushed her, running my hands over her back and forcing myself not to start thinking with my cock. “You don’t have to. We can pretend I never asked.”
She shook her head against me and pulled away slightly, her hands going up to the ties around her head. I could feel the fear oozing off her as she struggled with the ribbons. But I stayed still, I felt that if I moved too fast, I’d spook her and she’d run like she had the first night. It loosened, and she ducked her head, her hands cupping the mask.
I held my breath, my heart thumping in my throat, as she slowly lifted her head and revealed herself at last, fear so clear in her eyes.
I sucked in a breath as I saw the scarring on her face and she hurried to put her mask back on. But I reached out, holding her wrists to stop her. She stared to the side and I could see the tears building in her eyes.
Ever so gently, I reached up and cupped her jaw with my hands, ignoring the way she flinched at my touch and the spike of pain it caused in my heart. Her tears spilled over, running along the raised skin on her scars until they burned my skin. She still wouldn’t meet my eyes and I wanted to hurt whoever had done this to her.
I tried to speak, but had to clear my throat. “Does it hurt?” I asked, quiet and reserved. She looked up at me, clearly not expecting that. She shook her head minutely and I was relieved.
“May I kiss you, Eleanora?” I asked reverently. I could think of no other way to show her that her scars did not scare me the way she had clearly feared. They were startling, and dragged up complicated emotions in me, I wouldn’t deny that. But the most important thing I felt in that moment was to make sure she knew I wasn’t about to reject her. That I would embrace her, scarred face included. Suddenly, her desire for freedom made entirely more sense. It wasn’t just from Madam Jupiter, but maybe from the fear she held of her own face.
She didn’t respond so I lowered my head, slowly enough that she knew my intent and had time to pull away. I held her gaze until I captured her lips with mine, her hands flying up to cling to my arms as my own eyes closed. She kissed me with a desperation that hit me in the stomach and I poured every chaotic emotion and promise I felt into that kiss. I slowed the kiss, holding her gently as I pressed soft kisses over her marred cheeks with a gentleness I didn’t realize I possessed.
No other woman
inspired this fierce protectiveness that I found in my heart. She felt fragile under my hands but I knew that she was stronger than anyone I had met. She had challenged me, Romulus, and Brom and, fuck, we fell for her. She wasn’t our Helen, nor our Penelope. She was our Aphrodite, our warrior goddess of love. In that moment, I knew my heart was committed to her and none other.
I pulled her against me, kissing her deeply once more, her hands moved to clutch at my chest. I broke the kiss for a moment, panting as our foreheads pressed together. “Double tap and I’ll stop.” I felt her nod again before she pressed her mouth against mine.
I reached down and bunched her dress up until I could lift her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, her mouth never leaving mine. There was a frantic frenzy to our movements and I stumbled towards the loveseat, laying her down on it as carefully as I could.
I was already hard and could feel her grinding up against me. I reached towards my back pocket, thanking fuck all that I had been optimistic tonight and had come prepared with a condom. I pulled it out and showed it to her.
“Yeah?” I asked, needing her to consent since she couldn’t speak. She nodded eagerly, her hands snaking between us to fumble at my belt. I hissed as she released me, stroking me with both hands, and I sat up, tearing the foil open with my teeth before I swatted her hands away. “Stop that, or this show’s going to be over too soon,” I said, and she let me roll the condom on. I looked up at her, finally able to see the wicked smirk I had known would accompany her mischievous eyes. I reached down and dragged the head of my cock against her wet pussy and grinned as her mouth fell open, totally silent. “This is going to be fun, I just realized. I can fuck you as hard as you want and we don’t have to worry about anyone hearing you.”
She rolled her eyes at me and I felt her inhale as I slowly sank into her tight heat. She looked away from me as I pressed all the way in and I was angry, but not at her. I reached up and turned her face back towards me.
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