Page 95 of Bloodgrove

Duchess Elodie Ormonde has sent out invitations to her wedding during the New Year’s full-moon ball at her family’s grand townhouse. Who will prevail? The Morning Postillion was also invited—we will report exclusively.

Only the faintest smile lifted the corner of Elodie’s mouth as she skimmed the headlines over breakfast.

“I am sending all the servants away the day before the wedding so that you can have the ballroom to yourself,” she said and set the newspaper aside. Something like a sigh lifted her shoulders, and Will could watch her force her facade back into place.

“Will you not want to be there?”

“I don’t think I can. Wilkinson wants me to attend a gathering of senators with him.”

“He only wants your blood again so he can bring more ships into the city! Is there at least grain on them this time?” Will’s fingers tightened around his fork.

Elodie sighed. “He and his mother are too weak to pay the toll. I am happy to help.”

That was a lie. Will frowned. “But there are only a few days left until your wedding. You need your strength.”

“Yes. He knows that.” She smiled wearily.

“How are you supposed to… accomplish what you intend if you have no strength left? Can I pay the toll for my train ticket?”

Elodie twisted her mouth guiltily but could not bring herself to meet his eyes. “No. I have to do that.”

Will shook his head in disbelief and rose. He did not understand why Elodie had not canceled the wedding after he and Eric freed the angel. Wilkinson had lost his advantage and was no longer of interest to the Red Hand. His regular fits of rage made that obvious.

Will walked to her at the end of the table. He did not know where they stood after the night of secrets.

“Should we not have freed the angel?” he asked yet again.

“Yes, but next time, bring me some of his blood.” Elodie laughed, but it sounded hollow.

Will leaned against the edge of the table beside her and gently brushed his fingers across her cheek until she looked up at him. “Wilkinson is punishing you.”

She nodded, and between one blink and the next, he saw the pain in her eyes. She leaned into his touch.

“Why have you not sent him away yet? Why do you endure all of this? What is the whole story? I know there is more to it.” He lowered his voice, and in the vastness of the dining room, they found a small space of intimacy.

“There is no point hiding it from you.” She sighed and took his other hand. “I told you about my father and his obsession. He thought I was strong enough to become the next Red Hand. He invited his friends, all powerful mages, and they were meant to train me—to harden me. Strengthen me. But I was only a child.” She stopped and pulled away from Will’s touch. “These are not subjects for breakfast.”

Will stepped behind her high-backed chair and rested his hands on her shoulders, drawing her back against the carved wood. At first she remained tense, but eventually she exhaled, sank into the chair, and allowed Will to stroke her face. With gentle pressure, he moved along her neck, up over her cheeks, her temples, and the tight muscles of her forehead. Elodie closed her eyes and for a while enjoyed his touch.

“They never did anything that would have threatened my virginity, but give people the freedom to do whatever they want and eventually…” Elodie cleared her throat. “Eventually, they forget their humanity. They hid it beneath lies like ‘research,’ ‘conditioning,’ and ‘necessity,’ but now I know they were only hiding from themselves. From their reflection in the mirror the next morning.”

Will swallowed and had to concentrate to keep his massage from faltering. But he was grateful she didn’t see his face, because he couldn’t guarantee his thoughts were not written all over it. Disgust and simmering rage rose inside him until all he could see was red.

“Sometimes my uncle came, but mostly it was the others. You met one of them—Robert Lake, with his shadow magic. Two were senators I killed with the chimera. The Bohun clan, whom you helped me wipe out. There were so many more at the celebrations my father held, when he tried to open portals to heaven or hell. I hate them all. But Wilkinson was one of those who was always there. The one who always saw me as a woman, never as a child. He loved it when they tied me to the bed, and my body tore itself apart in madness.”

Will’s fingers froze.

Elodie opened her eyes and looked up at him, but there was no pain in them now. The storm raged more fiercely than ever.

“Thank you for reminding me why I am fighting. I had lost sight of it these past few days.”

Will placed his hands against her cheeks, holding her entire face. He struggled with his words and with the unchangeable nature of the past. “Tell me what you need from me.”

She smiled and leaned into his hands. “Only you. Your magic. Your good heart.” Her fingers closed around his, and she turned in the chair so she could look directly into his eyes. “Perhaps I was once a victim, but they created a monster.”

“I do not believe that. The more you tell me about your plans and your past, the more convinced I am that you strike them down with righteous anger.” He bent toward her and brushed a kiss over her lips. Today, they tasted of grapefruit and sugar.

Elodie laughed softly and rose. “You were warned.” She smoothed her skirts and squared her shoulders. “I will try to be there for your miracle, but if I cannot, begin without me. And as we agreed—the ballroom now, and the small parlor on the wedding day.”