Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  I grunt.

  Saving.

  I highly doubt that she was doing that at all, then again, I’m not sure that I care either way. An unsoiled, soiled dove, I kind of like the sound of that. Standing, I look down to her.

  “Show me the way, Madame Silks.”

  She smiles slowly. Her lips curving up into a grin. “Right this way, Mr. James.”

  My stomach clenches with each step that I take. It hurts to the point where I want nothing more than to double over and land on the floor, writhing in pain. Clearing my throat, I continue to move, no matter how badly it hurts.

  Bessie steps to the side and stands next to a closed door. “She’s just what you’re looking for, I believe,” she announces.

  I don’t respond to her, instead, I reach for the handle of the door and twist it open before I make my way inside. The room is dimly lit, I can’t see much, but when my gaze lands on the bed, I’m shocked at the sight before me.

  She looks exactly like Adelaide. Inhaling a sharp breath, I take a step forward. “Adelaide?” I rasp.

  Her eyes are wide as she watches me, then they shift from side to side. “If that’s what you’d like to call me,” she offers, her voice shaky.

  “What is your name?” I demand.

  She clears her throat. “Adelaide?” she asks.

  Shaking my head, I don’t move, still staying in my spot. “Your real name.”

  Her lips twitch into a small smile. “Daisy,” she exhales.

  “Pretty.”

  I take a step toward her, but my stomach protests so I stop in my place. She’s wearing a thin nightgown, see-through and untied at the neck which exposes her shoulders. I watch as she sits up slightly and allows the nightgown to fall to her slim waist.

  She’s a little heavier, a bit curvier than Birdie. Then I blink as she rises to her knees and begins to crawl toward me, stopping at the end of the bed.

  “I know who you are,” she whispers.

  “Do you?”

  She nods her head. “I’ve seen your photograph and I have to say, I never thought I would ever meet you, let alone…”

  Her mention of the word photograph causes my stomach to twist further. Birdie is a photographer. I could do so many things to make her comfortable, to make her happy, including buying her equipment to allow her to pursue her hobby here, since I have no doubt that she misses it.

  “I can’t,” I mutter, taking a step back.

  Daisy reaches out and her hand takes mine. Her fingers squeeze as her heavy breasts sway. I can’t deny her body is that of which dreams are made, but she is not my Birdie. Her touch makes me feel queasy.

  I don’t feel that sensation of my blood boiling with desire beneath the surface of my skin, I don’t feel the need to rip her clothes off and bury myself deep inside of her. I just feel sick to my stomach.

  Shaking off her grasp, I turn away from her and walk out of the door. Reaching into my pocket, I take out some coins and toss them toward Bessie. Wordlessly, I leave the bordello.

  Lonesable is angry at me and refuses to speak the entire way home. Which is fine, I’m pretty upset at myself as well. When I reach my home, I’ve almost forgotten the soldiers that are camped out everywhere and my body jerks in surprise at the number of tents that are set up all around my property.

  Guiding Lonesable toward the barn, I dismount and clear my throat.

  Nothing happened.

  He is silent for a few moments before he finally speaks.

  Whatever has happened. Fix it.

  Jerking my chin in a nod, I wait for him to make his way into his stable and then I go in search of Birdie. I hear voices as soon as I walk into the house and all of my senses go on alert. Nobody should be talking. It’s late, they should all be asleep, but as I approach the dining room, they are louder.

  Opening the door, I freeze at the sight of the three scholars who are staring back at me. I didn’t expect them at all, especially at this time of night. Florence is standing next to them and she lifts her gaze to meet mine.

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Colton. These men would like to speak to you, they think that they may have information that we need,” Florence says.

  Nodding my head, I look for Birdie or her guard, but they’re not in the room. “We were advised that the woman not know anything until after we spoke with you, sir,” one of the men announces, answering my silent question.

  “Jeremiah has taken Miss Collins back up to her room to retire for the evening,” Ernest announces.

  “Shall we all go in my office, then?” I suggest.

  They look at one another, but it’s Florence who speaks first. “There is more room here, Colton. They have scrolls and documents that they would like to show you.”

  “Scrolls?” I ask.

  They all nod eagerly as if they just simply cannot wait to get started. My needs will have to wait, apparently, because as badly as I need Birdie and her touch right now, these men are in no mood to wait even five minutes.

  “Ernest, whiskey, please,” I growl.

  He dips his chin, then quietly sneaks away and into the kitchen as the scholars prepare. I’m not sure what’s about to come, but I have a feeling that it is going to, yet again, blow my mind. I haven’t been ready for any of this and I’m certainly not ready for more, but time waits for no man to be prepared. I have learned that the hard way.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  BIRDIE

  I don’t sleep. There is no sense in even trying. Instead, I stare at the ceiling and wonder if I’ll ever be able to communicate with Dru or if I’ll just be able to hear her conversations in my head.

  Not being able to communicate with her is going to suck ass. Not that it doesn’t already, but I was hoping that if I could communicate with her, then she could help me figure a way out of here.

  Because I want to go home.

  I thought that I could learn to be okay here. Maybe I’d be able to find Sybilla and Liv someday soon and then they could maybe take me away from this fucking asshole, but now, I just want to leave.

  I’ve hurt him and I don’t blame him for being upset, but he doesn’t want me. I’m this thing that was thrust upon him and I just want to make life easier for the both of us and get away from him.

  Turning to my side, I watch the sun rise through the window, bathing my room with its warm glow. I haven’t had even a wink of sleep and I know I should feel exhausted, and I do, but it’s more mental than it is physical.

  Placing my hands beneath my cheek, I continue to just watch the room fill with the yellow-orange glow of the rising sun. A new day. A new dawn. Another moment to feel inadequate. Another day of starving.

  The door opens, but I don’t bother lifting my head. I know that it’s Martha here to help me bathe and dress for the day. What kind of life is this where I need help dressing? It’s ridiculous.

  Self-sufficiency is my new goal.

  I’m going to ask Martha for help, in a new way. She’s not my maid and it’s silly that she helps me as much as she does, because I have a feeling she has plenty to do around here without being my lady-in-waiting.

  Rolling onto my back, I push myself up to sitting, my eyes are closed as I let out a yawn and only when I’m fully seated upright do I open my eyes. I should have opened them sooner. My lips part and my eyes widen at the sight in front of me.

  It’s Colt, his legs braced apart, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed on me, and he’s unmistakably wearing what he wore last night. Closing my lips, I press them together, and narrow my own gaze at him.

  “May I help you?” I ask.

  He tilts his head to the side. I realize, without him saying a word that he must have spoken with those monk looking guys and he knows something. I’m not sure what he knows, but it’s something and my heart starts to race.

  “Martha will be in. You’re to be ready to go in an hour’s time.” I watch him spin on the heels of his boots and walk toward the door.

  “Colt,
” I call out.

  He stops, but only looks back over his shoulder at me. “What did they say?”

  His gaze holds mine, then he shakes his head once. “Get dressed,” he says softly, then walks out of the door leaving me alone.

  Martha appears a few moments later with the bathtub. I’m too lost in the way he looked at me, almost hauntingly, then walked away. I’m in a complete daze as she quietly goes through the steps of readying me for the day, so much so, that I completely forget to ask her to help me be more self-sufficient.

  Usually, during this time, we take a moment to just chat with one another, especially when she’s doing my hair and such. Not today. Her silence speaks volumes and I know without a doubt that she knows something and whatever it is, it’s serious and I have never wanted to disappear more than I do right now.

  None of this can be good. Between Colt taking off in anger last night and staying gone until who knows when, then those monks appearing in the middle of the night, and now I’m being summoned. Everyone seems to know that this is not a jovial kind of day—I kind of want to crawl into a hole and I really want to go back home.

  One step out of the bedroom and I’m not surprised to see Jeremiah standing next to my door. Looking over at him, I wrinkle my nose, then lift my gaze up to meet his.

  “He couldn’t even give you a chair?” I ask.

  Jeremiah chuckles. “Sitting down on the job makes you lazy,” he announces.

  Pressing my lips together, I wonder if there is some truth to that or if Colt is just an asshole. I want to believe he’s just an asshole because I’m pissed at him right now, but I don’t voice my opinions aloud.

  Instead, I walk forward. Jeremiah falls in line beside me. I don’t look over to him, I look straight ahead. As much as I want to joke around with him, maybe even get to know him a bit better, I decide that this isn’t the time for that. Instead, I lift my chin in the air and walk onward.

  The dining room comes into view and I’m not surprised to see it full of people, including the monks and the soldiers that are now my personal guard. Though, I’m not sure why Colt would care enough to have a guard assigned to me, it seems a bit over the top.

  Colt is at the head of the table and dips his chin as soon as I walk into the room. He makes his way toward me, pulling a chair out and waits for me to sit down. I do, silently, too nervous to really be a smart-ass for the moment. I’m sure I’ll get my gumption back soon, but I just don’t have it right now.

  Florence smiles sadly across from me and my heart squeezes. She knows something too. So, essentially this little meeting is all for me because everyone around me already knows what the hell is going on. And Colt is so much of a dick and a coward he can’t tell me alone.

  Martha brings out the rest of the jams and marmalades for breakfast, setting them down before she slowly walks backward toward the kitchen. I know that she’s going to listen at the door, because if I know anything about Martha, it’s that she knows everything that happens around here.

  Nobody makes a move. All eyes flick between me and Colt. Then, as if he’s just talking about the weather, he reaches for some bacon and a biscuit as he begins to tell me what the hell is going on.

  “There are stipulations to this prophecy. If these are not met, then there could be devastating results. What that means, the scholars do not know.”

  Pressing my lips together, I look over to Florence. She is watching me, but she doesn’t give me a hint, not even an inclination of what she’s thinking.

  “Okay…” I drawl when he doesn’t continue right away. “What are the stipulations?”

  Colt clears his throat, but it’s the main monk-guy who starts to speak.

  “You must be in love. When you are, a child will be created in that love. It is laid out in the prophecy and these children that you, and your sisters, create will be the rulers of the next generation. It is said that when you and your sisters finally come together, you will absorb all of the powers of our worlds and be the most powerful beings here.”

  Colt growls during the last sentence and normally I would think something like this would be really cool, except it all seems like way too much. I can’t even control or harvest the power that I have right now, how am I going to control even more?

  “What happens if I don’t want any of that, what happens if Colt and I don’t fall in love?” I ask.

  There is silence, it’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. I don’t look back at Colt, unsure if he’s watching me, but also not caring too much either. He doesn’t love me, he made it very clear that he never would.

  The monk’s gaze meets mine and a chill runs down my spine at the seriousness in his eyes. He opens his mouth, but it’s Florence who speaks, interrupting him.

  “Devastation, Birdie. It would cause devastation.”

  “Love is an emotion,” I point out. “It isn’t something that the gods can just demand we fall into. It may never happen.”

  “You must try,” the monk says, his voice soft, and his eyes focused on me, as if it’s me who isn’t open to falling in love. As if it isn’t Colt who already said I would never be his wife, just his whore.

  Deciding that I can’t stay in here a moment longer, not with all of their eyes focused on me, I stand. All of the men stand as well, and it’s so annoying that they’re so fucking polite in this world and this time.

  Taking a step to the side, then backward, I clear my throat. “Prepare for devastation then, whatever that means.”

  Turning around, I walk out of the room. I hate that one of the guards follows me and hate it even more that the guard isn’t Colt. Practically running, I open the back door and step outside, gasping for air.

  COLT

  I watch her run out of the dining room, not even taking a single bite of food. The room stays quiet, all eyes are on me, but I can only stare after Birdie and Jeremiah who far too quickly ran after her.

  “She will come around, it is just new,” Florence says in an attempt to calm me.

  There is no calming me, mainly because I am no doubt the reason for Birdie’s ire. She read Adelaide’s private journal, then withheld it from me. She has seduced me, made me feel for her with her magic. I cannot in good conscience just allow any of this to happen, to pretend that this is real, that she is real.

  “I do not care,” I state. “She is right. We must prepare for devastation.”

  Standing, I too leave the room, but I don’t follow Birdie outside, instead I make my way into my office. Closing the door behind me, I walk over to the window and look out, knowing that I’ll probably be able to see her when I do.

  I am right.

  Birdie is standing just a few feet away in the distance, Jeremiah at her side. His head is tipped down, hers tilted backward as they talk with one another. They’re standing close, much too close. Flicking my gaze down, my jaw clenches at the sight of his hand on her elbow.

  He is touching what is mine.

  What was created for me.

  I may not want her. I may not ever fall in love with her, but that does not mean that she is any less mine.

  Birdie Collins belongs to only me and he is touching her. Clenching my hands into fists at my side, I don’t walk out there and pummel him as much as I want to. Instead, I lie in wait. I watch. I wait. And I watch a bit more.

  She turns from him, walking away a few feet, and I watch as he clenches his fists at his sides, just the way that I am doing. My lips lift up into a smirk as my friend is rejected by the woman who is not his to have and I didn’t have to do or say a single thing.

  “Sir,” Ernest’s voice rings.

  I don’t bother turning around, knowing that he slipped in here alone and that if he’s called out my name, he no doubt has something that he would like to say to me. So, instead of responding to him, I wait.

  He clears his throat, then decides to go ahead with whatever is on his mind.

  “You’ve rejected her without knowing her. Adelaide would not be angry,
you must know this.”

  Ernest knew Adelaide, though only briefly. Before the war started, I had dabbled in local politics, which was a reason that I was chosen by the Assembly. I wasn’t sure that it was for me, but Ernest was the assistant to our town’s mayor.

  When the war broke out, he went with his mayor who eventually fell, and I kept him at my side afterward, knowing that he was smart, trustworthy, and knew exactly how politics worked. He has been at my side since his mayor died and I have always trusted him to help me, to guide me, and to advise me.

  “She may not be angry, but it’s my fault that she isn’t here. Replacing her is wrong. This prophecy is wrong. I am not her intended. I think there has been a mistake.”

  There is a moment of silence and only then do I turn around. Ernest is watching me, a frown clearly on his face as he does.

  “The gods do not make mistakes, Colton. You know this as well as any other.”

  “They would not put the fate of our world in my hands, Ernest,” I snap. “Not when I already lost a family that I should have been able to protect.”

  “Adelaide never blamed you,” a voice murmurs from the doorway.

  Flicking my eyes up, I look past Ernest’s shoulder and toward the doorway where Birdie stands. She is wringing her hands together in front of her, but her shoulders are square and her blue eyes are focused on mine and unwavering.

  Wordlessly, Ernest slips away just as she walks farther into the room and I glance toward the door as it clicks closed behind him, leaving us alone in my office.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  COLT

  Birdie’s words startle me.

  “She didn’t?” I ask.

  Birdie shakes her head a couple of times, then she closes the distance between us. She’s hesitant, and I don’t blame her. I walked away in anger last night and went to another woman, though she doesn’t know quite that much.