I was used to working from before breakfast to after dinner; my only reprieve would be if I were too ill to work. Heavens forbid I pass a cold to one of my stepsisters, or even worse, to Madam Jupiter herself.
Brom slipped from the bed, pressing a kiss to my head, and I let myself burrow into the spot he’d left, wrapping my arms around the plush pillow.
But I bolted upright the moment I heard my stepsister’s familiar voice.
Chapter 6
Eleanora
Brom had brought three large paper bags into the bedroom. These weren’t the brown bags I would empty food deliveries from at the Bediver estate. These bags were a matte black and soft to the touch. Their edges were crisp, the handles braided white cord, and the name of the boutique was embossed in a glossy black. These bags screamed expensive.
“These should suffice for now,” Brom spoke, as he pulled out clothing wrapped in thin crinkling paper. “I’ve ordered more for you, but for today I was more concerned about the basics.” He looked up at me, a wry smirk tilting his lips upwards. He pulled me out of my dazed focus. “Not that I would have any objection to you staying here, naked and bare to me at all times.”
I blushed furiously, even considering what we had previously done, his desire still affected me. I reached out to trail my hand over a simple black shirt. It was so much softer than anything I’d worn in years. I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“Ella?” Brom’s voice tugged at my heart, even as he tilted my face upwards. “What is it?”
I swallowed hard at the adoration I saw in his eyes. I looked at the bags and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t need anything more than a change of clothing. I’m sure I can get my clothes from my room…” That was, if my stepmother hadn’t gotten rid of them already.
“It makes me happy to give you luxuries, Ella.” Brom’s hand dropped to my shoulder; his touch grounded me. “You have been clothed as a servant for years. Let me wrap you in silk and cashmere. If not for yourself, then for me.”
I chewed on my lip, not fighting the smile I felt building but more the tears his words inspired. I blinked quickly, acquiescing his request. I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head as I reached for the pale pink lace-trimmed underwear lying beside the shirt and denim.
“How’d you know my size?” I asked, curious, even as I pulled on the light denim. I looked over at Brom as I reached for the black shirt. The vampire was unfolding another piece of black fabric with silver embroidery.
“I have a keen eye,” was the only answer he offered. He was still inspecting the material in his hands and my heart began to race when I realized what he held.
“I requested more,” Brom said as he handed the face veil to me. I tried to take it from him, but he caught my wrist in his firm grip. I met his dark eyes. “You do not need to wear a veil if you do not wish. Please believe that I bought this for your comfort. Not my own.”
I smiled weakly, tugging the veil out of his hand. I had so many emotions rolling through me that I wasn’t sure why I was choosing to wear it.
“Thank you,” I said instead, and let the long fabric fall from my hands as I found the shortest end of it. “Did they send pins with it?” I asked as I wrapped the short end around my face, just under my eyes.
I heard Brom searching and he produced a safety pin. I turned, and I felt him secure the fabric over my hair. I twisted the remaining fabric once before laying it atop my head. Twice more, Brom silently pinned the fabric in place, my scars disappearing behind the black fabric. He handed me a brooch and I smiled as I saw it.
“The Tepes crest?” I asked, even as I pinned the loose end of the scarf to the rest. “How possessive.”
He hummed noncommittally, but I saw the pleased look in his eye. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and my eyes were drawn to him and I felt them go wide as I realized the evidence of our coupling was still there on his slacks. I looked up at him, glaring, and he smiled.
“It’s not like the lycan won’t be able to smell it,” he said, causing me to roll my eyes.
“Yeah, but Beatrice is here and I’d rather her not run back to Jupiter with gossip,” I grumbled, and his smile grew wicked.
I stepped back, the dark hardwood smooth against my feet, and walked towards my stepsister, hoping I was as brave as I appeared.
Beatrice sat ramrod straight on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped in front of her, a small travel case beside her feet. Romulus and Merlin leaned against the bar that divided the kitchen and living room. They straightened as I stepped out of the room, and I saw Romulus’s eyes narrow in confusion. My stomach twisted and I knew I would need to explain my secrets at our first opportunity. But that couldn’t happen until my stepsister left.
The woman stood as soon as she realized I entered, a small gasp coming from her as she took in my appearance.
“Ella, you’re all right,” she said, and her relief almost sounded sincere.
“No thanks to your mother,” Romulus growled and my stepsister flinched.
“I didn’t have to tell you where she’d been taken,” Beatrice tried to snap back, but she had never been as hard as Titania and her voice lacked bite.
“What are you doing here, Beatrice?” I asked before Romulus could provoke her further. I could feel the weight of his and Merlin’s eyes, watching me. Watching Beatrice. Warmth flooded me at their clear protective instincts, though I knew Beatrice was not a threat. She had never been strong in her power, and had she not been Madam Jupiter’s daughter, she would have likely left the Syndicates to live as a terrestris.
“I wanted to bring you your clothes,” she said, looking down at the case before looking over me. “But clearly I was mistaken in your need.”
“Would you have done me the same courtesy in Storm Cape?” I asked bluntly, offering her no quarter. She didn’t have the fortitude to look at me. “I thought not.”
Silence stretched and twisted in the air around us. I refused to give any ground. Not here, in Brom’s home, surrounded by the men who’d fought for me. In a week, they’d shown more respect, kindness, and love than my supposed family had.
“Do you know how hard it is to be a true daughter of Jupiter?” Beatrice asked softly, her gaze staring out the large windows. I frowned, about to offer a sharp retort, when she kept going. “How hard it is to be less powerful, less beautiful, less sophisticated than Titania? To be taught that I was not even worth a proper dowry, and the only thing I could bring to a marriage within society was my name and my womb? To be told that the hidden stepsister was of more use scrubbing our floors than my attempts in politics?”
Beatrice’s voice wavered and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I tried, Eleanora. I did. I know I’m not intelligent, that I care too much about dresses and having fun, and shopping, and reading and being silly. I know you have always despised me, but how many times was it me—stupid, useless me—who treated your welts with willow bark? How many times did I try to be as good of a sister as my mother would let me? Do you think I’m so stupid to not have figured out why the extra material for gowns was delivered? Did you really think Mother would have allowed a mistake such as that to happen?”
“I–I didn’t think—”
Beatrice let out a humorless laugh, interrupting me. “Of course not, Ella. No one thinks about me. No one sees me. I’m irrelevant.”
Shame flooded me, but on the heels of that came rage. “Why didn’t you try harder if you cared so much? Why didn’t you fight your mother for me? Rather than let her shove me into the servants’ quarters and hide me from the world?”
“We were children!” Beatrice shouted, whirling to face me. Her hands were balled into fists. “I was a child, Ella. I was terrified. I had lost the second father I had ever had. I had nearly lost my stepsister. I saw those flames filling the sky from my bedroom window. I could feel your fire, even from so far away. I was terrified.”
I couldn’t sustain my rage against the truth of her words. I moved and sank ont
o the chair behind me. Burying my face in my hands, my breath labored as I tried to settle my thoughts.
“I’m not a child anymore, Ella.” Beatrice’s voice was soft and I looked up at her. “I’m not powerful enough to move against my sister or mother, but I can do some things.”
“Like bring me clothes,” I answered, nearly whispering. I realized now what an action could cost the woman. It was an act of defiance, and Madam Jupiter did not allow defiance.
“And a few masks from my collection.” Beatrice’s voice had nearly returned to normal. “I should return to the estate now. I’m certain the staff need my supervision in packing my clothing. They have no respect for delicate materials.”
She turned away, towards the foyer she would exit through, and my mind finally caught up with her as she was nearly out of the room.
“Packing?” I called, bewildered.
My stepsister paused and half turned, looking at me. “Yes. You’ve claimed your legacy. Every warlock felt the ripples of your magic. The estate is now yours, and we must vacate the property by sundown. Anything that remains after that is rightfully yours. Goodbye, Ella.”
My heart stuttered as I heard the door close as she left. My home. I hadn’t expected to be able to return to it. Could I? It was filled with awful memories, but . . . also memories of my mother and father.
“Lass?” Romulus’s deep Irish brogue washed over me, and I turned to look at him walk over to me. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t actually know,” I said, feeling my hands shake. “My world is so much different than a week ago. I . . . I don’t know.”
He crouched down, his hands wrapping gently around my wrists as he pulled me towards him. I took the comfort he offered, hiding against him as he held me, his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back as I shuddered with nerves. When I pulled back, the man let me go, watching me carefully. My eyes homed in on the case Beatrice had left behind. It was as if that case held all the secrets of my life, and opening it would be like Pandora and her box.
“Romulus,” I whispered, knowing he would hear. The case sat there, causing my stomach to churn, but I couldn’t look away from it. “I killed my father.”
Chapter 7
Romulus
The pain in Ella’s voice nearly broke my heart as she uttered those four words. My aunt’s words came back to me, and knowing now that Ella was indeed a phoenix, I felt my priorities strained. A phoenix was powerful, and dangerous, something that must be destroyed for the sake of the living. But Ella, our Ella, she was strong and kind, desiring love above destruction. I struggled to reconcile the two concepts housed in the beautiful woman before me.
I could feel Brom and Merlin, waiting for me to take the first step. I dropped my hands to her knees, rubbing my thumbs against her, hoping to convey with that simple touch that I was not repulsed by her confession.
“Thaddius Bediver died when you were a child.” I spoke slowly and carefully, measuring the weight of each word. I could feel her blood racing through her, the scent of fear and anxiety faint under the scent of her pleasure from Brom.
She nodded, blinking harshly, and a tear fell before disappearing into the veil. “He was trying to help me learn to control my power.” She raised her hands, staring at them as if they held the mysteries of the world. I wanted to hold her hands, to press kisses to each of her fingertips. I wanted Ella to know that her hands were not designed to deliver death, but to love. My aunt’s words whispered in my mind, though, and the memory of the intense heat from the harbor was still against my skin.
“He had me claim the legacy,” she continued softly. “I didn’t remember anything about it until I was on that ship.”
“It was a traumatic event,” Brom said as he stepped up beside us. He offered her a glass of water, which she took appreciatively, but she made no move to drink it. He sat on the couch, his arm laid along the back. “It is no surprise that you would have blocked it out. Your mind was trying to protect you.”
“The legacy, the power . . .” Ella trailed off before letting out a shuddering breath. “It overwhelmed me. It made the fire inside me stronger. I couldn’t stop the flames, but he wouldn’t leave me. He could have lived, but I failed—” Her voice choked and I shot forward, wrapping my arms around her as she sobbed.
“You were a child, lass,” I whispered hard against her. “Your father couldn’t leave his child in her time of need. His death is not your fault, and I’ll remind you of that every day until you believe me.”
“But—”
“Romulus is right, Ella.” That was Merlin’s gruff pronouncement. She pulled back to see the warlock standing beside us, nearly looming. His face was harsh, his brows bent as if in anger. “Your father’s belief that the magic you’d inherited would help you control the phoenix inside you was sound, but ultimately misguided.” The warlock crouched beside me, his eyes never leaving Ella’s bloodshot ones. “Magic like ours”—he lifted a hand, silver smoke threading around his fingers like a coin trick as Ella watched carefully—“It can be used by instinct, but without training, it will take its natural course. Your father, out of desperation or love, threw open the floodgates, hoping that one power would be strong enough to overflow and control the other. But fire is greedy—and magic is nothing more than unused potential. It was the magical equivalent of throwing a bucket of water onto a grease fire, hoping the water will drown the fire faster than make it worse.”
I watched Ella, silently urging her to believe Merlin’s words. As much as the man despised politics and most of the Syndicate society, he was truly one of the greatest warlocks in the nation. He may not be as refined as Brom, but Merlin was intelligent, devastatingly so when it came to matters of magic.
“I couldn’t stop the flames,” Ella said, but more as if she were disappointed with herself than guilt-ridden.
“You stopped them yesterday,” Merlin said, and she looked at him, considering his words.
“I almost didn’t,” she said, but let out a sigh and looked back to me. “I wouldn’t have, had you three not come for me. I wanted—the phoenix wanted—to burn the world down. To consume it. I’ve never felt such a visceral need.”
I hummed and cocked my head, as if seriously contemplating something. “I’m sure we could do something to top that.”
She looked at me in surprise before a small giggle came from her. That giggle turned into a laugh, loud and full of relief. I knew she laughed less at my comment and more from the release of emotions twisting inside her. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she laughed, and I shifted until I sat in front of her, no longer crouching. I kept my hands on her legs though. I could have said it was to keep soothing her, but in truth it was me who needed her. Touching her, she reminded me that she was Eleanora, the woman who captured my heart and my loyalty so swiftly and unexpectedly. I raged against the caution of my aunt, that I may be the one who must end her else risk the destruction of this world.
I watched her wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes. They were bloodshot and red-lined, but her blue eyes were bright. And I wondered if the world burning would be such a horrible thing if it meant I could remain at her side.
I reached up and tugged gently at the veil. “I take it that you hide your face for a reason then, lass?” I felt Merlin stiffen and heard Brom’s breath hitch, confirming my suspicions that they’d seen her face. I didn’t begrudge them that privilege, nor was I irked that they’d not betrayed her confidences.
She took a steadying breath, watching me carefully. “I wear the scars of my father’s death on my face,” she answered, holding my gaze. But she dropped her gaze before continuing, and that hurt more than anything she’d revealed before. “I am not beautiful like Titania.” She reached up and pushed back the veil, and I saw the beginning of the scars. I waited patiently as Ella reached back and removed the pin holding the veil to her face, the fabric slipping down and showing the truth of her words.
Scars stretched acro
ss her face, raised and the color of a livid red. Between those scars, her skin shone with an unnatural smoothness of scar tissue. Somehow her lips, eyes, and eyebrows had been spared, the scars branching across her face.
Ella’s knee bounced as she waited for my reaction.
How did I tell her I thought she was beautiful, in spite of and because of her scars? How did I tell her she need not fear my rejection or repulsion? What words could I say that would convince her that I cared not for how her face looked without making her think I hated them? I did hate them, though. I hated that they were the constant reminder of the pain she suffered. The rejection from the woman who should have been a mother to her. The loss of the father who loved her. The rejection of the world around her. I loved them, instantly and completely. Her scars were proof of her strength, proof of her determination, proof of her spirit.
“It is said that Enbarr of the Flowing Mane, one of my people’s gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann, was one of four horses born of Epona.” As I spoke, Ella looked at me, her eyes wide and her jaw clenched. I held her gaze as I recalled the stories from my childhood. “He was not the eldest, though he held great power. He had an older brother, his first name lost to the winds and the sea. He is known to us now as only Dóite. He was a magnificent warrior, and held the power of the four winds within his mane. His eyes were filled with the stars and he heralded the seasons to the emerald isle.”
Her jaw had relaxed as she began to listen with interest.
“But one day, a chieftain decided that he would capture Dóite to impress a beautiful queen. He put an iron harness on the horse, stealing Dóite’s power away and scarring his majestic face. Then, because Dóite still fought, the chieftain hammered iron horseshoes to the god’s hooves, crippling him.” I stopped, a poignant moment of silence for the injured Tuatha De Danann. “It was all for naught. The queen had already taken her consort, and in his heartache, the chieftain abandoned Dóite.”
Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy Page 18
