by E. G. Foley
Archie considered this with a troubled frown. “Hmm, yes, well, I suppose it could be related. Anything’s possible, of course…but look on the bright side. At least the rest of the trove won’t do them any good now. The whole cliffside came down in that avalanche. You were still half unconscious when that happened, but I assure you, whatever might’ve been hidden inside those caves is now buried under tons of rock—and probably smashed beyond repair.”
“Honestly,” she said as she closed the hatbox again and put it back in the closet, “don’t you think it’s time we told your aunt about the orb and everything that’s been going on?”
“No!” Archie exclaimed, taken aback.
Nixie looked startled by his vehement tone.
He shook his head with a dire look. “After the full moon, fine. But not now! Egads.”
“Why not?”
“We need to focus on one disaster at a time, Nix. Let’s make sure we’re clear of Davy Jones first. Plus…” He hesitated, trying to think of how to say it tactfully, even though Nixie didn’t care much about tact.
“What?” she demanded.
“Well, at the moment, Aunt Ramona is already cross at us all for being out in the middle of the night with Jake. To tell her now, at this late date, all that we’ve been keeping from her? That we lied about going to Malta? That Jake got attacked last night? We’ll be grounded for the rest of our lives!”
“Yes, but—”
“Nix,” he said with an earnest stare. “If she’s angry enough, she could send you away. And Maddox. And even Dani. She could separate us all. I don’t want to be parted from you.”
Her expression instantly sobered. “Oh…I hadn’t thought of that.”
Archie tapped his temple with a fingertip. “Lucky for you lot, I think of everything. But right now, my poor brain is overloaded, so can we please stop talking about this? I need to work so I can feel normal again, capisce?”
She gave him a droll look for using the Italian word. “Very well. But the truth’s got to come out sometime, Arch.”
“I agree. But for now, let’s just get through this day—and,” he added grimly, “the full moon tonight.”
# # #
Meanwhile, down on the beach, Isabelle was almost as out of sorts as her brother was up in the house. But instead of wrestling with confusion, she was burdened by a heavy sense of responsibility—and a dash of guilt.
Miss Helena had specifically left her and Maddox in charge, as the two eldest. They had a duty to make sure the younger kids were all right. But the two of them were barely even speaking—and deep down, Isabelle felt like that was her fault.
The truth was, she had been unwilling to be friends with Maddox because she had hoped for something more.
Was that really fair to him, though?
If he didn’t feel that way about her, then that was that. When was she going to accept it?
He couldn’t help how he felt. Was she, of all people, so selfish that she couldn’t take a little disappointment? She’d been sulking about his rejection for weeks, truth be told. In all honesty, as an aristocrat girl of wealth and privilege, she was used to getting her way about most things—not that she ever took advantage of that fact.
Still, it was easy to be good and virtuous under such conditions. But only lately had she been driven to distraction by something she simply could not have.
It was time, she admitted, to get over it.
Their group of friends was presently surrounded by so many dangers they had to be united or they’d fail.
And that meant the moment had come when she must resign herself to giving up on any thought of Maddox as a beau.
She gazed across the beach at him, filled with regret. He was alone as usual, working on the sailboat. He had dragged it up onto the sand and appeared to be waxing the hull.
She still found her empathic blindness where he was concerned entirely disconcerting. In fact, before they’d left Merlin Hall, she had privately consulted one of the adult empath mentors about what it meant and if there was any way to fix it.
The woman had laughed softly at her and told her that the reason she could not read this boy’s emotions the way she could everybody else’s was because he would one day be important to her destiny.
It was some sort of mystical protective mechanism. Sometimes certain people, the expert had explained, were veiled from an individual empath’s gift, because seeing into that person’s heart would have changed the course of what was supposed to happen and tangled up the whole precise tapestry of fate.
It would have been, she had said, like cheating in a card game where you had some unfair advantage.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but some things even empaths will just have to go through like everybody else, with no special insight,” the woman had kindly explained. “It’s a matter of groping our way through the dark like ordinary mortals, trying to find our way as best we can. I know it’s frustrating, but trust me, Isabelle, this experience is a gift.”
“A gift?” she had exclaimed. “It feels like a punishment!”
“Perhaps at first. But…isn’t it rather wonderful, and freeing, not to be inundated for once by what someone else is feeling? Look at it this way. When you’re around this particular boy, you can fully hear your own true self, who you are inside. For once, you don’t have to be overwhelmed by someone else’s stormy emotions, their needs, their pain, their dissatisfaction, or even their joy. Around him, you can just concentrate on being you and figure out what you feel. That, my dear, is a rare luxury for people like us.”
Isabelle supposed it sounded good, but in hindsight, she feared the lady’s advice had gone in one ear and out the other. For she had spent the past month obsessing, aye, banging her head against the brick wall that was Maddox, still trying to figure out constantly how he felt—especially how he felt about her.
She had not even attempted to listen to herself around him, like the lady had suggested. It was almost as if she didn’t want to know who she really was inside, as if she were somehow frightened to explore that.
But really, why bother? Her role in life was already settled. Everybody knew she was the good girl—period. She put others before herself, used her gifts to anticipate their needs, and always tried to say the right thing, to comfort other people, support them, listen and care and soothe hurt feelings.
Of course, that didn’t leave much time for considering her own emotions, but was that so bad?
After all, what if she paid more attention and didn’t like what she found? What if she peered down into the depths of her own heart and discovered she wasn’t as nice as she wanted to believe? What then?
Her roguish cousin Jake might revel in being naughty, but she wanted to be good. Just like Maddox. True, she had high standards, and sometimes people made fun of her, called her a goody-goody for it. But it was a bad world, a dark world, and surely somebody had to try to be the light.
As for how Maddox might be involved in her destiny, Isabelle saw now in chagrin that she had clearly jumped to some silly conclusions on that point. She had fancied that it meant he would be her husband one day, and they’d live happily ever after.
For some illogical reason, she had completely ignored the obvious reality that Guardians didn’t have wives. Their lives were too dangerous.
Everybody knew that. Maddox knew it. Isabelle knew it. Even Derek Stone knew it, and so did Miss Helena. But seeing her governess being courted by the manly master Guardian, Isabelle supposed she must’ve let her hopes run away with her…
She heaved a sigh and acknowledged that sometimes, life was not a fairytale. Maddox had seen it from the start. Now it was her turn to accept it.
And she owed him an apology.
He was only here on account of his duty—not because of her—and selfishly, she had made his job all the harder with her sniping.
Well, it stopped now.
Her mind made up, she started off across the sand, sensing the emotions from all the other
s as she passed them. Dani and Liliana were playing with Teddy and Wallace at the water’s edge, running around and laughing. She could sense Dani’s boundless warmth even amid gnawing worry about tonight. Her joy with the beauty of the beach, her sheer adoration of Jake, her protectiveness toward Liliana.
Isabelle sensed the younger mermaid’s homesickness despite her playful cheer, her stubborn bravery in the face of adversity, her worry about her father and her friends back home.
Over there, in the shade, Isabelle saw Jake and Sapphira drawing in the sand and putting their heads together to come up with a plan for the villa’s defenses, given that the full moon was tonight.
She sensed Jake’s dread that Davy Jones might yet find them and his steely intent to keep everybody safe, especially a certain redhead. His cold fear over Derek and Tex and Red and Henry and Helena.
From Sapphira, she sensed calm, focused anger and a tough-minded readiness to fight anything that tried coming up that beach tonight. Fortunately, neither of the two really seemed to believe the Lord of the Locker had discovered their whereabouts.
Isabelle was surprised at how complex her former rival’s hidden emotions were, though, as she passed Sapphira. She sensed her regret about lying to them, a sincere hope to be accepted behind her haughty royal façade. She sensed the crown princess’s self-doubt about her ability to rule, and beneath it all, the ache of her father’s rejection.
But that wasn’t everyone.
As Isabelle glanced up at the house, she could even sense Aunt Ramona, peacefully napping in her chamber after being kept up so late last night.
Somewhere up there were Archie and Nixie, as well; they were up to something, but Isabelle could feel their pleasure in their intellectual pursuits and their perfect contentment in each other’s company.
It was rather beautiful, that, she thought wistfully, and she wondered if she’d ever find someone who enjoyed her presence that much.
It clearly wasn’t Maddox, she thought with a rueful tilt of her lips. But she gripped her parasol and marched the rest of the way across the deep sand, bracing herself to make her apology.
Nobody liked groveling.
Isabelle’s awareness of the others’ emotions faded behind her, yet there was nothing ahead as she approached Maddox.
Just a blank.
She checked her frustration and reminded herself that her parents would not have approved of the match, anyway.
For one thing, she wasn’t even allowed to be courted by boys until she made her debut in Society. And even then, as the daughter of a viscount, she would not have been permitted so much as to dance with the adopted son of a blacksmith.
Poor Maddox, she thought, shaking her head sadly. He already had enough to worry about without her giving him added trouble. His beloved mentor captured, his own birth mother going into battle.
He hadn’t said a word, but she had seen the look in his dark eyes after Janos had told them about Derek. His handsome, suntanned face had turned white, and he’d exhaled like he had just been punched very hard in the stomach.
It took no empathic powers whatsoever to see that he had taken the news very, very hard. Stoic as he seemed outwardly, his loyalties ran deep. She suspected his emotions did, too—like an underground river, stronger and more turbulent than he cared to let on.
Frankly, she was worried about him, especially after Archie had shamed him with his superior intellect in front of everyone. She had never, for that matter, seen her easygoing brother act that way before.
The tension of their situation was clearly beginning to get to everyone, fraying their nerves and tempers to the breaking point.
Shoring up her courage—and shielding her complexion from the sun, of course—Isabelle nervously approached the beached sailboat, determined to call a truce.
Maddox glanced over his shoulder and noticed her coming.
Perhaps he’d heard her with his acute Guardian senses. He paused in his labors, quickly pulling his shirt back on over his head.
He’d been working on the boat without it, and Isabelle tried very hard not to look at his bronzed, muscular back and shoulders too much.
“Ahem, Mr. St. Trinian? Could I speak with you for a moment, please?” she asked primly, squinting at the waves as they glittered in the sunlight.
He glanced warily at her and went back to work, scraping a barnacle off the hull. “What can I do for you, Miss Bradford?”
“Well, I…actually I just…wanted to see if you’re all right.” It was too embarrassing to begin with the apology. She’d get to that, she promised herself. Soon.
Maddox shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Just trying to pass the time until we have some news,” he said.
She took a step closer, encouraged. “You must be worried about your mother.”
“Birth mother,” he said in a terse voice. “Ida St. Trinian is my mum. The other I just call Ravyn.”
Isabelle lowered her gaze, not entirely sure how to take that. She’d heard he was adopted, and she supposed that must be hard sometimes. She was careful to keep her tone kind and conciliatory. “Whatever you call Guardian Vambrace, still, you must be worried.”
“You must be worried.” He sent her a brief, mocking glance over his shoulder. “About Janos.”
She scrunched up her nose and tilted her head. “What?”
Maddox seemed to try to keep his mouth shut, but failed. “You really shouldn’t let him flirt with you like that. It’s not right.”
She was startled and could feel her cheeks reddening. “Let him? You think I have a choice? He just does. Not that he even means it.”
“You’re naïve if you believe that.” Maddox scrubbed the boat harder. “You ask me, I think he’s a little in love with you.”
Shocked speechless for a second, Isabelle knew she was now as red as the sunset. “Don’t be absurd!” she sputtered.
“Oh, come. You’re well aware of it, I’m sure. You eat it up.”
Isabelle stared, half tempted to brain him with her parasol. “You think I enjoy his ridiculous attentions?”
Maddox shrugged. “Most girls would. He’s a prince, after all,” he fairly spat.
“He’s a vampire!” she exclaimed, baffled. Oh, this was not going to plan at all. Yet she could not hold her tongue. “Even if he did like me, what is it to you? You’ve made it very clear that you want nothing to do with me, for your part.”
“I’m here to help guard your family—that is all. That scoundrel knows full well he should not be flirting with a girl your age. If you were wise,” he said like some stern elder brother, “you’d walk the other way when you see him coming. Instead, you just stand there—fluttering your lashes,” he mumbled.
“How dare you!” she spluttered, so mortified by the accusation that she grew tongue-tied. Not in all her days had anyone—not her governess, not Aunt Ramona, not even her strict mama—ever had cause to accuse her of such cake-headed impropriety. “I-I do nothing of the kind!”
Maddox arched an eyebrow at her in the most provoking way.
“Argh! Forget it!” She pivoted in the sand and started to march away in high dudgeon with what was left of her dignity, but he called after her, sounding amused.
“Was there something you wanted, Miss Bradford?”
“Never mind!” she barked.
“Oh, did I touch a nerve?” he taunted.
She could not hold back, but stopped, flicked her parasol shut, and then pivoted. The next thing she knew, she was bellowing at him in the most unladylike fashion. “For your information, the only person I have ever fluttered my lashes at is you, y-you stupid dolt-head of a Guardian! But no more!”
“Thank God,” he replied.
“You hear me? You win! Better I should let Janos bite me on the neck than ever try to talk to you again!” she said, stabbing at the air with her parasol.
Maddox threw down the scraper and stared angrily at her. “You really can’t read my feelings at all, can you?”
“Fra
nkly, I’m beginning to think you don’t even have any!” she shouted, no longer caring who heard.
“Then you’re blind,” he said quietly, and turned away.
“And you’re just—boring! At least Janos is cheerful sometimes!”
“I’d be merry, too, if I had no honor and did whatever I liked all the time, picked fights and couldn’t die. Tell me, Miss Bradford, are you able to read His Highness?” he asked in disdain, no longer trying to hide his jealousy.
“Actually, yes,” she blurted out, taken aback by the question. “Quite clearly.”
Maddox huffed. “Figures.”
Isabelle gritted her teeth. “Everybody’s wrong about him, you know. Janos has honor.”
“Right,” Maddox said in disgust.
“Trust me, he does.” She paused. “I’ve looked into his soul.”
“Oh, really?” Maddox leaned against the boat and glared at her in even stronger disapproval. “And what, pray tell, did you see?”
“That would be none of your business. Besides, it was only once.” She could feel her cheeks turning even redder at this topic.
Back at Merlin Hall, she had made a daring effort to read the vampire with her gift, but only because they all had initially thought Janos might be a threat.
What she had not anticipated was that her attempt to peer into his psyche would open up her own to Janos, in return. He had proved to be much more expert at true telepathic communication than she, and had quickly overwhelmed her. He had sensed her incursion immediately and hadn’t liked her prying one bit.
Isabelle had been paralyzed with fear when the vampire caught her snooping around in his mind. What he had read inside her poor brain, she still did not know, but it seemed to have attracted his amused attention.
In any case, her experiment had left her satisfied that Janos probably wasn’t as dangerous as everybody feared.
Indeed, she vividly remembered what she had sensed inside of him. Sometimes it still haunted her at night. Wicked he might be; arrogant, as well. But for all his bravado, the ex-Guardian was deeply, deeply sad at the decision he had made, and nobody knew it except her.
