Lysander glanced around the assembly, his long black coat brushing the polished wooden floor as he paced my father’s study.
“Do you think we should tell them our plans?” he asked the assembly.
“Not yet,” said Silas, shaking his head. “Not until it’s time.”
Lysander tipped his head to the side, seemingly considering. “Does anyone disagree?”
When his words were met with silence, Lysander turned to Vanessa and me.
“I don’t want to interfere with whatever you two were planning to do. By all means, go and enjoy yourselves.” Lysander smiled, but I was not the least bit comforted. I glanced to my father, who nodded, his jaw clenched.
I bowed once more, my hands tightening on Vanessa’s arm. Beside me, she curtseyed, and I noticed the tension in the set of her lips. She was clearly as ready to leave as I was.
Without another word, we departed. As soon as we’d returned to the corridor, we doubled our pace, hurrying around the nearest corner before I believed we were a sufficient distance from the study to stop. I slowly released her arm and leaned against the wall, my shoulder pressing against the wood as I sighed.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea they were here. If I had, I would’ve never—”
“Julian.” Vanessa shook her head, reaching out to touch my wrist momentarily. “It’s not your fault. We’ll talk about it later. For now, we should go find everyone and get them back to the party before they happen to go in the study. Or their parents miss them.”
Nodding slowly, I started down the hall, Vanessa at my side.
“I wasn’t trying to ruin your night, you know,” I said after a moment. “I know your mum threw the party because you’ll be in school when your birthday comes around, but with Victor there, I… I thought you deserved better than that. I hoped getting everyone together without him and without your parents would be a better alternative, but look where that got us.”
Vanessa laughed, looking up at me with a smile. “Are you joking? It was much more fun, regardless of the trouble we’ll be in. Ten minutes with you is much better than hours in a room full of people I don’t want to see. Thank you, Julian.”
I returned her smile as we continued down the corridor in search of the others.
*
“I’m sorry, Master Bellamy, but she isn’t in the condition for visitors. She doesn’t wish to see anyone.”
I sighed heavily, glancing past the maid for a glimpse into the foyer. I knew Vanessa wasn’t likely to be waiting just inside the door, but I could still hope.
I didn’t believe that she was refusing visitors. It might be true that her mother didn’t want to allow her company or that she herself was distraught over something, but I’d never known her to refuse the company of friends, if she had the choice.
Something was wrong.
“Thank you,” I told the maid shortly with a small nod. I turned away and moved quickly down the marble steps. As soon as the door had closed behind me, I veered from the path, striking out across the kempt yard to my left. I moved quietly through the darkness as I cut a path of my own toward Vanessa’s window. If I couldn’t go in the house to see her, I wanted to at least try to catch her attention from outside and determine whether she was all right.
I’d made it roughly halfway to her balcony when a voice stopped me in my tracks.
“The hell, Julian?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. “Not now, Lizbeth.”
“What do you mean ‘not now’?” my colleague in Lysander’s ranks and Vanessa’s cousin asked, wandering into my line of vision from the shadow of the house. I had no idea how long she’d been watching me. “You’re on my property, you know.”
“Sort of,” I conceded, not pausing in my course. Lizbeth fell into step beside me.
“Oh, shut up. That’s not what I want to argue with you about.”
“What do you want to argue about, then?”
“Do you think you can get a straight answer out of my cousin about what attacked her?”
I froze. I turned my head toward Lizbeth slowly, my eyes narrowed. “Attacked her?” I repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“She came home with—you know, it might be better if you just see it. Get your ass over here.”
Lizbeth started toward the house, her red hair vibrant even in the scattered lights spilling through the windows and making her easy enough to follow. I glanced back toward the front door, half-expecting the maid or Vanessa’s mother to be watching us, but I saw no one. Lizbeth led me around the corner to the house’s side, and she opened a door the shrubbery had been concealing.
“Go,” she said, nodding me inside. I didn’t argue, stepping into the house and what I realized was a very small room filled with shoes and hanging coats. It looked like an entranceway for the servants.
Lizbeth closed the door when she’d followed me in, and she held out her arm to gesture me through the door at the room’s other side.
“I take it you know where you’re going, from here?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. If you run into my aunt and uncle, it’s on your head.”
“I expected no less.”
“I’m not staying. I need to hunt,” said Lizbeth, pulling off her high heels and grabbing a pair of boots from behind a row of men’s shoes.
I raised a brow. “Is there a reason you keep your things in here?”
“Aunt Honoria won’t have reason to complain, if she doesn’t see the mess I bring in.” Lizbeth shrugged. “The tile in here is much easier to get blood off of than wood. She’s convinced I make too much of a mess when I feed to be her level of civilized.”
“Fair enough.” Leaving Lizbeth to her laces, I started off through kitchen the room was adjoined to and the rest of the house, moving quietly to attract as little attention as possible.
I crept down the corridor toward the stairs, glancing over my shoulder every few steps to make sure I was still alone. I entered the foyer, and to my relief, the maid was nowhere in sight and neither were the Capulets. Almost convinced that I was in the clear, I allowed my thoughts to return fully to Vanessa as I mounted the stairs. Lizbeth had said she’d been attacked. By hunters? Mages? What else could have harmed her? What else would have wanted to? The thought turned my stomach and tensed my muscles, and a very appealing image of ripping apart the nameless, faceless person responsible for hurting Vanessa passed through my mind.
A stair creaked beneath my foot. My breath caught in my throat, and I glanced below, hoping no one had heard. A shadow fell over a doorway to the left of the foot of the steps, and I rushed upward to get out of sight before anyone could emerge from the room beyond it. I jogged up to the second floor and racked my brain to recall which door belonged to Vanessa. I had been told once, on a tour of the house given by her father, but I’d never entered the room myself.
I caught sight of a faint glow interrupting the darkness of the hallway from beneath a door on my right. Even the chandelier above me was dormant, and the light emanating from the closed door drew me toward it like a moth.
I paused by the door, attempting to still my ragged breathing and order my heart to slow. There was silence from the other side of the door. Without the light, I would have suspected she was asleep. I knocked softly.
“Go away, Liz. Not now.”
Vanessa’s voice had always brought a smile to my lips, but not at these words. Now, she sounded broken. I needed to see her, to mend whatever had been done.
I opened the door just a crack, bringing into view the sliver of a dresser and a mirror in the room’s corner that reflected the door.
“I’m not Liz.” I fought to keep my voice down while I stood in the corridor, though I felt like screaming. The sound of shifting from beyond the threshold met my words, followed by her voice.
“Julian?”
I pushed open the door slowly, giving her time to object. Still, I felt that I should ask. “Can I
come in? I had to sneak past your mother, and I doubt she’d approve.”
“Of course.”
More shifting followed her words, and as I stepped into the room, she came into view. Vanessa sat at the edge of her bed, but the rumpled blankets and the head-shaped indentation in her pillow suggested that she had been lying down a moment before. Her eyes were ringed by a thin layer of makeup, and a few dark trails traced her pale cheeks. A bruise covered most of the right side of her face, and her skirt was ripped in several places.
“Vanessa…”
My breath hitched once again on her name, and I shook my head as I closed the door behind me, my fear forgotten. I moved quickly to her side, crouching in front of her and attempting to inspect her injuries. Her right wrist was bruised in what might have been the shape of some sort of binding—no, now that I looked closer, I noticed the outlines of fingers. A hand. The back of her own hand was scraped deeply, and though most of it had been washed away, traces of blood lingered along the lines torn in her skin. I looked to her face at last, and her eyes appeared glassy with fresh tears.
“Who did this to you?” I asked as carefully as I could, my concern close to masking the deadliness directed at the person responsible.
“Julian.” Vanessa shook her head, reaching out to take my hand in both of her own. “It doesn’t matter. It just matters that you’re here, now. Come here?” She removed one of her hands from mine to pat the spot next to her, and I took it, squeezing her uninjured hand gently. Now that I sat beside her, I caught sight of the blood in her blond hair, and my chest tightened.
“Nessa, it’s important. Someone needs to pay for this.”
I raised my free hand toward her hair, and when it was an inch away, I paused, suddenly aware once again of the rapid beating of my heart. I wasn’t certain how she would feel about the gesture. Glancing to her eyes again, I found that she was watching me closely, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. She hadn’t moved away, and I took that as the answer I awaited. I slipped my fingers into her hair, running them through it softly for a moment before shifting it to the side to allow me to assess her injury. The wound had closed, but there had certainly been one present. I avoided touching the area, and I ran my fingers through her hair before pulling my hand back.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” said Vanessa, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine you hurting me.” She frowned slightly. “You aren’t like… well. It doesn’t matter. I guess I should probably change out of this ruined thing, shouldn’t I?” She nodded toward her legs and the ripped green skirt that scarcely covered them.
“Probably.” I sighed. I knew I wasn’t likely to get an answer to my most pressing questions until she felt comfortable enough to give them, and I didn’t want to push her. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Her response was quick, and her hand tightened on mine. “I mean, I’ll change in the bathroom, and you can stay here. Please, don’t go.”
“Of course not. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” I brought Vanessa’s hand to my lips and kissed it softly, and she smiled.
“Thank you.”
Vanessa stood, giving my hand one more squeeze before releasing it—grudgingly, as it appeared to me, but I convinced myself that this might be wishful thinking—and moving to her dresser to rifle through a drawer. I watched her as she walked away, watched her careful movements and the swing of her hips, and I tried to recall exactly how long I’d thought of her in this way. She was constantly on my mind, and I couldn’t remember ever being this captivated by a woman before her.
I knew I spent too much time watching her when we were together and thinking of her when we were apart, and the thought of telling her exactly how I felt tied my stomach in knots. I knew I should’ve been focused on winning victories for my people against the mages who wanted to see us dead—I should’ve been focused on proving myself to Lysander and ensuring I was a capable leader and able to eventually take my father’s place as head of the Bellamy line. But none of that mattered to me. All I wanted to focus on was her.
Soon, I thought. Soon, I’ll tell her.
Vanessa slipped into the bathroom adjoined to her bedroom, carrying a few items of clothing, and closed the door behind her. Relax. You’re fine. No matter how many times I repeated these words to myself in my mind, I didn’t completely believe them. I glanced around her room, my smile broadening when my gaze fell on a framed picture of the two of us with the rest of our friends at school.
A book lay overturned on her nightstand to save her page; it was facing away from me, and I couldn’t see the title from where I sat near the foot of the bed, though Vanessa seemed to be more than halfway through it. The door to her closet hung open, and I caught sight of the dress she’d worn to the ball several days earlier among countless others. I wanted to see her in all of them.
The bathroom door opened, and Vanessa reemerged. She wore a nightgown that fell to her knees and a white robe, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders—damp, as though she’d tried to wash away the blood within it. The mascara stains had disappeared from her cheeks and around her eyes, though the latter still looked somewhat red.
“You’re going to make me blush, Julian.”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring only when she spoke. She’d already started to turn pink, and the heat in my cheeks told me I wasn’t far behind.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. Nervously, I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m not used to seeing you like this.”
“Does it bother you?” she asked quickly, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes widened. She took a step backward, as though she might retreat into the bathroom.
“No, no. I just mean you look comfortable. I only ever see you in things that look like they’d make it hard for a person to breathe.”
Vanessa laughed. “They do.” She moved toward me, closing the closet door and retaking her place beside me with a soft sigh. “I tried to change earlier, but I couldn’t make myself. I just wanted to lie down.”
“If you still want to, feel free. I’ll get out of the way. I can sit at the desk, if you like.”
Vanessa shook her head, smiling. She shifted on the bed, leaning her back against the pillows. “Sit by me. It’s more comfortable than the desk, anyway.”
Tentatively, I scooted back to sit next to her, feeling a bit more at ease when I reached the softness of the pillows. I turned my head to look at her, and even her smile looked fragile, like at any moment, she might stop being able to hold it in place.
“Come here,” I said.
I scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her. She glanced up at me for a moment, eyes wide, and then she faced forward again, relaxing against me and resting her head on my shoulder. For several moments, we sat in silence. I focused on Vanessa’s warmth and the steadiness of her breath. I felt better just being near her, and being close enough to feel these things was a blessing that eased away the tension I’d been living with since Briarcrest.
“Will you tell me what happened?” I whispered. “Please?”
“Do you promise not to kill the person responsible, if I do?” Her question was just as soft, and I wondered if she was trying to keep herself from crying again.
“No. If you’ll be safer if I kill them, I can’t promise I won’t take that into account.”
I felt her laugh, though it was almost inaudible. “Okay, do you promise you won’t do it right now?”
“That I can promise. I don’t plan on leaving you.”
She inhaled deeply, expanding for a moment in my arm and then shrinking again when she released the breath.
“It was Victor.”
My jaw clenched. I’d expected it, in the part of my mind that knew how sadistic and cold Victor could be, but hoping this only applied to his dealings with our enemies had helped me to sleep on several occasions I would’ve spent lying awake worrying for the woman beside me.
“He tried… Well, he kissed m
e, but it was all wrong. He’d never done it before, not with me, and he held on too hard. He grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let me go.” Now that she’d started to explain, Vanessa’s words flowed freely, and she stared at the dresser as she absently rubbed her bruised wrist. “He backed me into a tree, and I couldn’t get away.”
My rage was building rapidly with each word she spoke.
“I bit his lip to get him to let me go, and he slapped me.”
My eyes fell on the bruise covering Vanessa’s cheek.
“My head hit the tree, and I couldn’t see, and I didn’t realize I was bleeding, but I just needed to get away. There were hunters. They hit him with a knife, and I—I should’ve stayed, I should’ve made sure he was all right, but I had to get away from him.”
Her shoulders had begun to shake, and as I glanced to her face, I saw fresh tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Hey. Hey, look at me.”
Vanessa lifted her head, turning it to face me. I lifted my free hand to wipe away the moisture that had escaped her eyes and left it resting against her cheek.
“You did the right thing. You owed him nothing, Nessa. Nothing. If you’d stayed, do you think he would’ve tried to keep you out of the path of the hunters? I think the coward would’ve left you there to face them without any training and not given it a second thought. Victor is a horrible, horrible person. I don’t blame you for not trying to save him, and honestly, if I were you, I might’ve tried to lead the hunters to him and made my life a lot easier.”
A small smile crept onto her lips, and I continued.
“What he put you through is inexcusable. He deserves much worse than what the hunters will do to him, if anything.” And I intend to make sure he receives it, I added mentally, but I didn’t believe she would want to hear that part. “I’m so, so sorry for what he did to you.”
Immortal Dissent Page 8
