“We have,” I agreed.
He looked over my head, and I turned to see what he was looking at. The Oracle watched us, smiling. I held my husband’s hand, for once confident in my path. I had to ask her, just once, what the future held.
“Can you tell me, will this joy last?”
She leaned in close so only I could hear and said, “It will, and together, you will bring about a new age for the Biski. The time of change is upon us, and you shall lead the way, side by side.”
It was enough. Just a glimpse, a snatched glance into our future. I was content in the fact that he loved me. I knew our world was changing, and I was ready to greet the new age with an open heart. I had not chosen Mathias at first, but I did now. I loved him and there would be no other for me. For the first time in my life, I was well and truly free.
If you loved the Diviner’s Trilogy and Princess be sure to check out the Thornwood Series. A town with secrets. A woman with an unusual power, and a murderer who wants her heart. Get your copy of Heart of Thorns today.
Continue on for a excerpt from Heart of Thorns
Excerpt Heart of Thorns
No one seemed to notice the girl in the corner except Catherine. As the housekeeper, Mrs. Morgan, ushered Catherine into the breakfast room, the girl in all white lifted her head and peered at her with dark eyes, like a pair of bottomless pits. Auburn hair fell in tumbles over her shoulders. It did not completely conceal the bloody gash in her chest, or the stains that ran down the front of her gown.
Catherine's eyes darted to the housekeeper as she wrung her hands. This is a sick joke, surely. The woman in white took a step closer and the butler walked through her without pausing. Catherine knew then that her symptoms had returned. She closed her eyes and counted to ten as the doctor had taught her. When she opened them, the woman in white was close enough that she could see the gaping hole where her heart should be. Catherine's own heart rattled in her chest and she turned around to the banquet. She isn't there, she chanted over and over in her head. With trembling hands she reached for the lid covering a serving dish. An icy hand rested on her shoulder, and Catherine yelped and dropped the lid with a clatter.
"My lady, please let us serve you," Mr. Hobbs, the butler, said as he righted the overturned lid.
He hardly came up to Catherine's chin. Over the top of his head, the woman in white watched her with hooded black eyes. She tore her gaze away as the butler showed her to her seat at the far end of the table. As she walked, she focused on the bald spot on top of his crown. The woman in white hovered at her shoulder demanding attention Catherine was not willing to give. Eyes downcast, she took her seat. The woman in white grasped at the hems of her sleeves, but her hands passed through Catherine and gave her a chill. You are not real. Go away!
Catherine stared down at her platter. She had been famished before but now her stomach was tied in knots. The servants, silent sentinels of the morning room, awaited her command. She picked up the fork and prepared to make a show of eating when the woman in white leaned over the table, coming nose to nose with her.
"He is coming for you next, leave while you can," said the woman in white.
"Go away!" Catherine slammed her fist onto the table. She could ignore her no longer. Screwing her eyes shut, she took ragged shallow breaths.
"My lady, would you rather eat alone?" asked Mr. Hobbs.
Catherine covered her mouth. It never had been her intention to make a scene. They will think I am mad, and rightly so. The woman in white had disappeared. At least she had managed to overcome the delusion. But what if I start seeing things again? She must rid herself of such dangerous thoughts. The agitation only made her condition worse. If she was to avoid another fit, she had to stay calm.
"My lady?" Mr. Hobbs prompted once more with a hint of agitation in his voice.
In need of a new subject, she asked, "Will Lord Thornton be coming down to breakfast?"
The butler raised a skeptical brow. "The master never takes breakfast in the morning room."
Catherine blushed, feeling a fool for asking something the servant considered obvious. There was still much to learn about her husband, she realized. Everything about her new life was different than her old one. She had seen hardly a hint of her husband since they arrived. Is this to be my life, alone in this giant home haunting the halls? She looked back to the place where she had spotted the woman in white. There was no hint she had been there, but the hairs on the back of Catherine's neck still stood on end. I am seeing things because I am fatigued. They are not coming back. They cannot be.
"The former Lady Thornton took her breakfast in bed," said Mrs. Morgan, the housekeeper.
Catherine sank down in her chair as the older woman surveyed her. There was something about the high-collared black gown and her severe expression that reminded Catherine of a governess that had terrified her as a child. "Oh," Catherine squeaked. She had made another mistake. "Then tomorrow I suppose I shall as well." It would be relief to be away of the scrutiny of the staff.
The housekeeper continued seemingly without noticing Catherine's reply. "His lordship sent me to tell you he will be busy tending to his affairs today and wishes that you be at your leisure."" Her lip curled as if the very idea of relaxation was repulsive to her. "He asked that I send you his love, and he says he will see you tonight at the dinner party."
The dinner party. She had been dreading this evening. Edward insisted on having some friends from the neighborhood over to make introductions. I only hope I do not embarrass him tonight. I have never been good in a group. She hated crowds. When her affliction was at its worst, being around others had brought out the worst of the symptoms. And to this day she still feared parties as a result, despite a lack of symptoms for some time. Until today that is.
"That would be pleasing," she lied, thinking that was the answer that was expected of her. What did a lady do with her day? She peered at her soft-boiled egg and toast, the yellow yolk bleeding across the blue pattern of the china. She had no stomach for them after all.
Catherine pushed back her chair, or attempted to, as a footman ran forward and scooted it back for her. Still unaccustomed to so many servants, she smiled at him in thanks. It was going to take time to get used to this lavish lifestyle. But the footman did not return the gesture. His expression was stony and his lips were pressed in a thin line.
"Thank you," she murmured as a flush burned her skin along her cheeks and neck. He nodded his head and stepped back in line with the other two footmen.
"If you are finished eating, my lady, why not take a walk in the gardens?" Mrs. Morgan said, her arms folded over her chest.
"I thought we might speak about the household management: what is expected of me?" When she lived with her mama and papa, she had helped with much of the day-to-day management of their small household.
The housekeeper looked taken aback. "Do not trouble yourself, my lady. I have always managed things here at Thornwood Abbey. If there is an important decision on décor or china, I shall consult you."
She thinks little of my intellect, I suspect. Mrs. Morgan, presumably, had better things to do and headed to the door.
Pale gray light filtered in through the windows of the morning room. "Very well, I shall take a walk, then," Catherine said to her retreating back.
Mrs. Morgan stopped at the door leading out into the hall and said, "Be careful. The lawns can be slippery early in the morning. And there are bushes you could get tangled in. Take care to stick to the marked paths." She took a few steps, hesitated, then turned around and added, "And stay clear of the woods by the south end. They are wild, and there are no pathways."
"Thank you for your kind advice." Catherine made a note to stay clear of that area. She had never like wooded areas, thinking of those long creeping shadows and all manner of beasts terrified her.
After donning an outdoor coat and a pair of boots, provided and draped upon her shoulders by her Lady's maid, Miss Larson, Catherine headed out. She s
trolled along the well-maintained garden path. A lingering fog clung close to the ground, swirling about her ankles. The gravel path crunched beneath her boots. Gray dominated the scenery but for the green of the lawn and the shrubbery that fought the encroaching fog. Ash and oak trees loomed above everything, seemingly threatening the cultured spaces. The gardeners must be in a constant battle to keep these hedges from going wild. And from the natural flora from encroaching upon the flowerbeds, Catherine mused. Maybe I can speak with the head gardener. I would love to plant irises. Perhaps I can be of some assistance there, at least. She turned a corner, contemplating the notion, when the chatter of two women stopped her in her tracks.
"I cannot understand it, Miss White. Why would he marry such a girl?"
"I have not the slightest, Miss Brown. The way I heard it, he was rejected and to soothe his pride he went off in search of a wife. Next we heard, he's married some girl!"
Catherine knew she should retreat but she was glued to the spot: too curious for her own good. There was so much to learn about her husband. Before he asked her to marry, there had been another woman. Perhaps that's why he had rushed the wedding.
"Have you seen her yet?" Miss Brown whispered.
"Yes, a pale little thing, dark hair and huge eyes. Utterly average, really. I cannot imagine why a gentleman would settle for her."
"Maybe she has a bit of personality?" Miss Brown offered, though she sounded skeptical.
"Not that I have seen. She's silent as death, and when she speaks you should hear the airs she puts on, you would think she is Queen Victoria herself!"
Hearing this harsh assessment, she turned to leave. It was bad enough she had listened this long, but their next words held her in place.
"Maybe Lord Thornton is enchanted, growing up next to that forest. I have heard some awful tales."
"Don't be daft. Those are just stories mothers tell their children to keep them minding."
"I would like to see you going for a stroll during a Thorn Dwellers' Moon."
Miss White laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Let's take this washing in. It won't dry out here in this wet.""
The sounds of the gravel crunched beneath their feet as they retreated. How disgraceful, to eavesdrop on the housemaids! Tears pricked her eyes, and Catherine backtracked the way she came, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable run-in with the gossiping maids. If she had been a braver woman, or even a brasher one, she would have confronted the two of them. However, her cowardice sent her further from home than she planned on venturing.
She hurried along the path, her mind swirling with their criticisms. They were not incorrect in their assessments. She was the daughter of a gentleman of little standing who could hardly offer a dowry that would entice any man, and Edward was a lord of considerable income. He would have done better to marry someone whose dowry could have added to his own wealth. Men of his status married for gain, not for love. But he swore he loved her, and could not be without her. Being desperate as she was Catherine agreed, though she did not know her own feelings. What if she was meant to be a replacement for another woman?
The fog seemed to be growing rather than dissipating, and since she was not paying attention to where she was going, before too long she was lost. She looked up and the house loomed in the distance. It was a two-story manor, ivy clung to its sides, and turrets erupted through the fog like spears. In the swirling mist, one would think the house abandoned. Trees lined the path she had stumbled upon. Judging from the overgrown beds, she suspected few came this way. A bench beneath an oak tree promised a good spot to rest and recollect herself.
The sun struggled to break through the haze of the earlier rainfall and she shivered in her coat. The bench was practically ice as she sat down upon it. The cold seeped through her skirts, but she did not move, too afraid she would be seen tear-stained and sniveling.
A breeze prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Catherine looked up as the fog shifted and exposed a copse of tangled dark trees. They lay thirty paces from where she sat beyond the line of oaks, and were swirled with mist. The branches seemed to reach out for one another, grasping and twisting until she could not decipher where one tree started and the other ended.
It struck her as odd to see such an untamed place among the manicured lawns and well-cared-for hedges and flowerbeds, well, except for these at her feet. It occurred to her: this must be the place of which Mrs. Morgan had spoken. A fine mess she had gotten into. Looking at these dark woods, she could see where the maids' superstitious fears came from. The trees were ominous.
A faint song drifted on the wind. Catherine lifted her head to listen, straining to catch the tune. The words were unearthly, the singer somewhere between man and woman, the voice high and fluting. It beckoned to her. She stood and edged towards the end of the gravel path where the manicured lawns sloped down towards and crashed against the wild forest. The song grew clearer; she could almost make out the words. If she just stepped a few feet closer she could hear it better.
"Be careful," an amused male voice said.
Catherine tensed and then twirled on the ball of her foot. A man with wavy dark hair tied into a knot at the base of his neck smirked at her. His white teeth flashed against his olive skin as his smile widened. His smile was almost lewd, but that could have been her imagination. She ducked her head when she realized she had been staring.
"Haven't you heard the stories?" he asked.
The sensible thing to do would be to politely excuse herself, but her mouth moved without her consent. "What stories?"
"Those are the Thorn Dwellers' Woods. The locals say there are creatures who live in these woods, and at night they lure the unsuspecting in with their song before they take their heart."
She shivered and pulled her arms close to her. There was a reason she hated the untamed places; they were full of dark strange things. Her heart raced just thinking about it.
"What an awful tale," she said and hated the haughty contempt of her voice. He smiled again and she fidgeted. "I should be heading back. It was a pleasure speaking with you......" She realized he had not introduced himself, nor had she. She was not certain she wanted an introduction. A gentleman would never tell a lady such a ghastly story. It had been anything but a pleasure. Good manners, however, had been ingrained in her like breathing.
"The pleasure was mine, Lady Thornton," he said.
She turned to face him as if drawn in by the spell of his voice. She searched his face. He had full lips, high cheekbones, and eyes dancing with mirth. He was handsome. Even she could not deny that.
"Who are you?" Even though she knew she should leave, Catherine lingered.
"My apologies, my lady. My name is Ray." He bowed and extended his arms as he did so. His movements were as fluid as water and as elegant as a dancer. The hairs on the back of her neck were raised and everything fiber in being was telling her to run but she could not move. A small part of her, despite her fear, was intrigued. The staff had all been cold to her and he had been the first kind person she met.
"You have no surname?"
"It's Thorn. Ray Thorn." He smirked as if he were indulging in his own private amusement.
"I should be going back now."
"Be careful, my lady."
She hesitated. She may have been reading into his words, but that was the second time he had said that. Perhaps she was searching for a meaning where there was none. She decided not to ask. Sometimes things were better left without answers. But she took a few steps before changing her mind. When she turned around, the spot he had occupied was vacated as if he had disappeared into the mist.
The story continues in Heart of Thorns. Get it here.
Also by Nicolette Andrews
Diviner’s World
Duchess
Diviner’s Prophecy
Diviner’s Curse
Diviner’s Fate
Princess
Thornwood Series
Fairy Ring
Heart of T
horns
World of Akatsuki
Tales of Akatsuki
Kitsune: A Little Mermaid Retelling
Yuki: A Snow White Retelling
Okami: A Little Red Ridinghood retelling
The Dragon Saga:
The Priestess and the Dragon
The Sea Stone
The Song of the Wind
About the Author
Nicolette is a native San Diegan with a passion for the world of make believe. From a young age, Nicolette was telling stories whether it be writing plays for her friends to act out or making a series of children’s books that her mother still likes drag out to embarrass her with in front of company. She still lives in her imagination but in reality she resides in San Diego with her husband, daughter and a couple cats. She loves reading, attempting arts and crafts, and cooking. Connect with her at here
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