“Would you like to dance?” she asked Luis.
“Would it be pathetic to dance with my sister?”
“Not as much as a spinster dancing with her younger brother. Oh, the burden he must bear, being seen with her in public society.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, earning a small chuckle.
They joined the dancers, and almost immediately Solenne realized why Luis had been hesitant. He was terrible. All elbows and knees, he kept bumping into her.
“I know dance was on the syllabus at school,” she said.
“For girls, maybe.”
“We went to the same school, and there were plenty of boys in my dance class. Now, stop rushing me. Count if you must.” She stepped back, letting Luis take the lead. She knew that he was not clumsy or physically awkward. Perhaps socially, but she had witnessed his archery skills. He possessed hand-eye coordination. He just had to ignore the people watching.
With each turn, he grew more confident. By the end of the song, he moved with the skill and grace of a hunter. Breathless, she allowed herself to be led to the side.
“The next dance is mine,” a firm voice said. Alek wore his usual tailcoat, though sponged cleaned, and his cravat tied sloppily, but he was a most welcomed sight.
Without waiting for her response, he took her hand and swept her back onto the floor. He held her closer than proper, his eyes fixed on hers, and they moved together like familiar partners. Her body remembered his touch from when they sparred in their youth. She anticipated his motions, meeting him for every turn and twirl.
A thread seemed to connect them, drawing them closer than physical touch, though her skin tingled and fizzed where they touched.
Her eyes drank in the flush to his cheeks, the hungry look in his eyes.
He licked his lips, his fierce gaze never leaving her face. Her breath fluttered in her throat, suddenly overwhelmed.
The crowd vanished. Even the music vanished. Her beating heart provided the melody.
Eventually, she realized they stood still.
“The music stopped,” Alek said.
“Did it?”
The moment felt too big to be contained. Her body hummed with excitement. She needed to catch her breath. She needed to sit for a moment.
She needed more.
Another voice interrupted. “Do you require a chair? A bit of air?” Colonel Chambers held out a glass of punch.
“I…” Alek tugged at this cravat, pulling the knot undone. His lips twisted, half sneer and half growl. He gave a clipped bow and left.
“Well,” Chambers said, watching Alek’s retreat, “I’d ask you to dance, but you look overtired. Perhaps I can show you the view of the garden from the terrace? There was a matter I wished to discuss with you.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, accepting the punch and, by extension, the invitation to the terrace. Chambers wanted privacy, and she dreaded the reason.
A quick look around the room and she found Godwin watching them with interest.
She followed Chambers to the terrace, each step feeling like a march toward her execution.
The cool night air was a welcomed relief from the heat of the house’s interior. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a breath. She could do this.
Amiable and amenable. All the qualities one wanted in a wife.
Chambers placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to a secluded corner. She jumped, spilling the punch over her hand.
“Not to worry. These things happen. The cup was filled to the brim.” Chambers produced a handkerchief and cleaned up the punch. He held her hand in his a bit too long, watching her reaction rather than the task.
Solenne tried to be gracious or beatific or however the heroines appeared in those novels she read when being doted on by a man they were expected to marry. Enthralled? Excited at being alone? Not the leaden weight she felt in her stomach.
His touch was unbearable. Wrong. Her skin crawled, not at all the way how it tingled and fizzed at Alek’s touch.
Chambers leaned in. Solenne turned her face away, fearing a kiss and better for it to land on her cheek than her lips.
He sniffed her hair.
This was too much.
She snatched her hand away and the cloth. “I can manage, thank you.”
“Ah, I see.” He stepped back, frowning. “I do hope that you know I hold you in great esteem.”
Yes, this was the proposal. She closed her eyes, wanting to be anyplace but there. Perhaps if she wasn’t watching him, he would finish quicker.
“Your father is among my closest acquaintances. I want nothing more than your family’s happiness. Particularly your happiness.”
This was it.
“Colonel Chambers, I—” she started.
“You’re charming and more than pretty enough.”
Solenne cracked open an eye. Pretty enough?
“I wish you every happiness,” he continued, “but I’m afraid that I cannot share that happiness with you. I know you’re disappointed. Your father indicated, several times, might I add, that you would be receptive to my attention.”
“You cannot share my happiness? I must confess, this is the strangest proposal,” she blurted out.
Chambers took a deliberate step back. “My apologies if I’ve given you the wrong impression, but this is not a proposal. It’s rather the opposite.”
Oh.
Well, that made her unreasonably pleased.
“I fear I am a man ill-suited to marriage. I am rather set in my ways. I know Godwin had hopes of a connection, but I’m afraid I must disappoint. And, if I’m being honest, I believe your heart lies elsewhere.”
Solenne felt herself blush, not realizing she had been that obvious with Alek. “Thank you for being forthright and clearing up any confusion.”
“If I said or did anything to mislead you, I sincerely apologize.” He gave her hand a perfunctory pat. “Enjoy the air. I believe I must return to my host duties.”
When Chambers departed, Solenne pressed a hand to her chest with relief.
Aleksandar
Boxon Hill
Marechal House - the Courtyard
* * *
“Oww!” The wooden sword clattered to the pavement, and Luis rubbed his shoulder.
“Perhaps you would be faster if you had not drunk so much last night.”
“Two glasses of wine! I’m hardly a drunk. Stop enjoying this.”
“I am not enjoying this.” Alek suppressed a smirk, noting that Luis did not deny being hung over.
He motioned for Luis to resume his stance, then sprang into an attack. Surprised, Luis quickly recovered. He placed too much importance on form and posture, as if a monster would wait for him to assume fighting stance number three. In the heat of the hunt, there was no time for formalities. Survival boiled down to action and reaction.
Truthfully, he had enjoyed little since his return to the Marechals. Well, he enjoyed the dance with Solenne. He did not enjoy the uncomfortable clothes he had to wear. He had not enjoyed leaving Solenne alone with that man last night. He did not enjoy watching them step out into the night for privacy. Loathing swelled inside of him, and the beast wanted to tear its rival to shreds.
It demanded that Alek march out and challenge his rival for Solenne.
He left, rather than make a fool of himself, because what did he offer her? Chambers had a grand house, money to splash about on frivolities like dances, and Alek turned up uninvited, wearing rags. Despite cleaning his coat and carefully mending the shirt, his clothes were worn and ill-fitting.
His only consolation was that Solenne appeared as miserable as he, which was a terrible thought. He should want her happiness, even if it meant his own misery. That morning, when the light crept across the bedroom floor, he could not find that spirit of generosity in himself. His beast was a selfish, greedy thing.
The practice sword smacked Luis across the shoulder. Again.
“You’re too fast,” Luis complained, rubbing
his shoulder.
“So be faster or be dead.” If his words were too harsh, he did not care. The reality of their profession was harsh. A single mistake ended lives. Hunter rarely got the luxury of growing old. “Perhaps this is a good place to pause for breakfast,” he said.
Luis groaned. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“I have faith in you.” Alek gave Luis a slap on the back, which sent him stumbling forward.
Cook had breakfast waiting in the kitchens. Luis turned an interesting shade of green at the plate of ham and eggs. “I think just toast this morning.”
“Nonsense, Master Luis. Nothing cures a hangover better than butter and grease,” Cook said.
“I would have thought hydration and a bit of willow bark tea,” Alek said.
“Oh, no. Don’t tell Solenne. She’ll make me drink an entire pot of the stuff, and it is vile,” Luis said.
“My ears are burning,” Solenne said as she entered the room. Instinctively, his body shifted to face her, and he perked to attention.
Damn his heart for feeling like it would burst out of his chest.
“You look peaky,” she said to her brother.
“I’m fine,” Luis said, quickly shoveling an egg into his mouth. He chewed slowly, as if his stomach threatened to revolt.
She sat next to Alek at the table, the scent of her lavender and honey soap ticking his nose. At least she did not smell of that vile old man.
“Why is your nose doing that?” she asked.
“My nose is not doing anything.”
“No, it’s doing that.” She wrinkled her nose, like there was a foul scent lodged inside.
“You are mistaken.” Alek picked up his plate and moved to the end of the table.
“Oh, wow. I’m glad I’m here to see this,” Luis said, planting his elbows on the table like he was in the front row of the greatest show imaginable.
Alek grumbled, stabbing at his plate.
“I don’t know why you’re so grumpy,” Solenne said.
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he replied, every word hurting his soul.
The kitchen fell unnaturally silent.
“Quite the opposite, in fact.” Solenne retrieved a plate from the cabinet. Her cheeks flushed, and she gibbered. “Colonel Chambers felt I had the wrong impression of his intentions, so he clarified his own affection for me. Meaning, none.”
“No affection?”
Solenne slammed down the plate. “Must you drag this out? Do you enjoy my humiliation? No affection. No engagement. I am forever to be a spinster, it means.”
“Don’t worry, Solenne,” Luis said, mouth stuffed with ham. “I’ll always need you, even when you’re old and all the village children think you’re a witch.”
Alek held his breath, expecting Solenne to send the dishes flying. Instead, she laughed, not her bright and mirth-filled laugh, but something darker and more tender. It unnerved him, and the beast whispered that he could fix this. He could have what he always wanted and make her laugh properly. Every morning could be this, ham for breakfast in a tidy kitchen, with her smile.
Alek shoved another slice of toast into his mouth to avoid making a fool of himself.
No engagement. It meant nothing to him, but it meant everything to the beast.
Solenne was his.
Chapter 10
Solenne
Boxon Hill
Marechal House - The Summer Solstice
* * *
Heavy pounding sounded at the front door.
Solenne stilled, the cup of tea paused inches from her mouth, and listened. Cook placed a comforting arm around the maid, who whimpered. Travers reached for the wooden bat and looked at the ceiling, like he could divine who was at the door. Aleksandar, Luis, and Godwin had left for the stone circle, the epicenter of the nexus, as soon as the sun neared the horizon.
They were alone in the house.
Tension crackled through the air.
The pounding continued.
Travers looked to Solenne, waiting for instruction.
“This is unprecedented,” she said. No one came to the house during an event. Solenne and the staff behind left alone had never been an issue. No one left their homes if given the choice.
“If they require aid, we must assist,” Travers said.
“Yes, you are correct. Answer the door. I will be right behind you.” She set down her teacup and reached for her silver knife. The blade wasn’t much, but a good hit in a vulnerable spot would slow down anything, man or beast.
Up the stairs, Travers carefully approached the door. His hand paused on the bolt. “Declare yourself,” he ordered.
“Open the door, man,” a masculine voice said.
Travers looked to Solenne, who shook her head. She did not recognize the voice.
“I said declare yourself. Who are you? I am armed,” Travers said, his voice losing the familiarly cool and polished tone Solenne knew.
“Jase Parkell,” the man answered, muffled by the door. “I have a man. He’s unwell.”
“You are unknown to me, sir,” Travers replied, looking to Solenne as if for guidance.
“Colonel Chambers’ nephew,” she whispered. After his disgraceful behavior at the dance, the man must be in dire need to seek assistance from the Marechals.
“Please. This is the closest house. My uncle’s house is too far away,” Jase said.
“Then I suggest your hurry on to your uncle’s.” Travers was having none of it. Gossip traveled fast in the village, and no doubt Travers heard about Jase’s incivility.
“I found a man in the woods. He’s delirious. He keeps saying he has something for Luis.”
“Miles,” Solenne gasped.
“It could be a trick,” Travers murmured. “Mr. Bartram knows better than to wander the woods during an event.”
Solenne nodded. Miles did know better, but if he were distracted or focused on a project, he might misjudge the hour. She adjusted her stance, wishing she wore something more substantial than a plain work dress and leather-soled slippers on her feet. If this was a trick, she and Travers would give a rousing good fight, but she’d move better in trousers and proper shoes.
Jase stood at the threshold, propping up Miles, who had an arm slung over his shoulder. Jase wore a ludicrously plum coat and a waistcoat in a matching print, expertly tailored and without a doubt expensive. His silk shoes were caked in mud, ruined. He had not dressed for a casual romp through the countryside.
“Miles!” she exclaimed, pushing her suspicions aside. “Is he injured? What happened?”
“I am unsure. I found him wandering in Uncle’s property. He can’t tell me a blasted thing. Apologies for my language.”
No obvious blood or injuries, although Miles’ eyes appeared glassy and his skin slick with sweat. She pressed her palm to his forehead. “He’s feverish. Bring him through to the drawing room.”
“I know I’ve been a terrible snob and I’m the last person you’d want to help,” Jase said.
“Miles is a friend,” she responded. None of this was for Jase Parkell. He could go rot for all she cared.
Travers helped Jase to carry Miles to the drawing room. Fortunately, the room was not far. They deposited the delirious man on a settee. “I say, life in the country is more exciting than I expected,” Jase said.
Solenne ignored his attempt at humor or whatever that had been.
“Miss?” Cook asked from the stairwell that led to the kitchens below.
“Cool water, please, and a clean cloth. Miles?” Solenne knelt before Miles and held the man’s face in both hands. He blinked slowly and his pupils were wildly dilated. “Did you eat something in the woods? A berry?”
Although it hadn’t happened in years, flora near the nexus could shift. Benign fruit turned toxic overnight, just one of the many difficulties about life on the fringes of civilization. The sheep did well on because their stomach would digest most anything, nexus-twisted plants or not.
“N-no, no. I can’t…” Miles slumped back onto the settee. The bag on his shoulder slipped to the floor. “Bite.”
“A bite?” She frantically searched him for signs of blood and the cursed wolf’s bite. Other than mud and sweat, his clothes were pristine. The dark fabric hid blood too well. Perhaps it was a smaller creature. She tore at buttons to push open the fabric.
“Miss Marechal!” Jase gasped in shock.
“Now is not the time for decorum. We have to treat the bite.”
“Yes, of course. Allow me. I insist.” He removed his own coat and unlaced Miles’ boots. Constructed from sturdy leather, nothing should have been able to strike through the boot. Nonetheless, Jase removed the boots and stockings, and pushed up trouser legs to check his calves.
Nothing.
Solenne held Miles’ wrist to push up his shirt sleeves. The man hissed and jerked away, nearly knocking a fist into her. The bite was angry and red, possibly already infected, and large enough to belong to a wolf.
“What bit you, Miles?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “Luis needs…the bag.”
“Was it a wolf? A beast? This is important.”
“So is the armor I made for Luis!”
Exasperated, she dumped out the contents of his bag. An undershirt slithered to the ground, almost soundless as the fabric flowed. Dull gray, it looked very much like the often-repaired armor Luis wore, only new and whole.
“Did you make this?” She retrieved the shirt, the fabric flowing as smoothly as water in her hands. Made of one piece of fabric, it had no discernible seams. “This is remarkable. Did you recreate the carbon nanofiber?”
“A close approximation.” He sat up, wincing. “I spun the thread, and Mrs. Berry knitted the shirt. For Luis.”
Solenne set the item to the side. There would be time to wonder if Miles had been intrigued by the challenge of making the armor or if he had been driven by the need to protect Luis. “We need to get that bite cleaned. I’ll need to fetch my kit. Stay here,” she told Miles, then looked to Jase for support. He nodded.
“Miss, I will fetch what you require,” Travers said.
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