“Well, for one, Anne’s getting married in a few hours and I’m betrothed to Leo. Supposedly, Fay and Tristan have been living at the keep for a while now. They’ll be here soon for the wedding, though.”
He laughed, relief flooding him. Things had changed for the better. “And you’re upset about this, why?”
She puckered up her face. “I guess I’m not upset so much as confused. It’s all different, but not how it is when the curse resets. I already checked and Catherine and the babies are fine. Usually, she goes back to being pregnant again.” She fiddled with her cloak. “And when I woke up, Marjorie was in my bed. Do you think she was possessed again last night?” She shuddered. “I hope she wasn’t trying to kill me.”
Jordan sighed. How much did he tell her? If the curse was broken, how much did she need to know? “I think it’s over, Soph. All signs point to it, don’t you think?”
“But how?”
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, deciding. He had to be honest. Marjorie would want that. He knew she would want to take responsibility and if it meant Sophie and Fay hating her for a while, he’d stand by her and help her cope.
“She did get possessed again last night,” he said. “At least I think it was last night. A lot has happened since then. We might have been asleep for a month while things changed for all we know.”
She shuddered again. “Magic is so creepy.”
“Agreed, little sister, agreed. Anyway, Marjorie was able to fight off Lyra and no harm was done.” Since his injuries were healed, he felt it was all right to leave out the details about the head bashing. “Don’t ask how it got there in the first place, but we went to the forest to dig up the dress and burn it.”
“What?” Sophie gripped his arm. “You destroyed the dress? That’s what ended the curse? Damn it all, I wanted to do that, but Fay didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“Please listen,” he said, his patience wearing thin. Now that things were changed for the better, he ached to see Marjorie. “No, we didn’t destroy the dress. We couldn’t find it.” He paused so she could interrupt him again, but she only stared at him open-mouthed. “Marjorie got sick. Terrible head pains. And then she remembered everything. She was desperate. Anne had died and Sir Harold wanted to marry her instead. She felt betrayed by Sir Walter and disgusted about Sir Harold. So, in swoops Lyra to feed off her anguish and whip up a nasty little curse when Marjorie only wished things could be different for Anne and herself. I’m positive what Marjorie wanted and what she got where two very different things.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “It’s exactly why you never made wishes. I always thought you were being a giant baby, but I guess you were right. I sure am glad I never got that pony I was always wishing for.”
“It probably would have thought your hair was straw and eaten it all.” He tugged at the blonde braid that peeked out from under her veil.
Instead of rolling her eyes, she slumped. “I felt disgusted and betrayed, too, when Sir Harold asked me to marry him. But now I know it was Anne’s last request. Marjorie was with me and heard her say it, too. Maybe that jogged her memory.”
“Or healed the pain that was feeding Lyra into keeping the curse going. That’s my theory anyway.”
“Sure, sounds as good as anything. And it does seem like the curse is broken. I guess it was Anne who needed to find love and faithfulness after all.”
“Yep, Anne’s not dying this time,” he said, pleased. “And you said she’s getting married in a few hours?”
Sophie shot up like she’d been electrocuted. “Yikes, yes. I need to get ready. I can’t wear this old rag.” She turned away, but paused and turned back. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get home,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter,” he told her truthfully. “I have my own reasons for wanting to stay. I hope you’ll find out about them sooner rather than later.”
His overly-clever sister narrowed her eyes at him. “You do love Marjorie, don’t you? Hanging around in the chapel should have been a dead giveaway.”
“I’m beginning to be pious,” he said with another shrug. “Is it going to be a problem?” He could tell she knew he didn’t mean his frequent chapel visits.
She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. “I think I can understand why she did it. I like to think I wouldn’t have made a deal with a witch, but desperation is a terrible thing. Are you sure you can forgive someone who killed people, even inadvertently?”
He mirrored her deep sigh. He still couldn’t admit to her what he’d done to escape Drayton’s lair. It wasn’t that he felt guilt about it anymore. Marjorie had helped him through that. It was self-defense. But saying the words would never come easy. “I guess as easily as you can forgive Leo, or rather, as easily as he can forgive himself. You can see in his eyes the guy’s got issues. So, not easily, no. But forgive? Yes.” He laughed ruefully. “It’s the new pious me, I guess.”
Her brow remained furrowed for a long time, then relaxed. “Well, I guess we leave it at that. And don’t worry about Leo. I’m working on his issues.”
“I’m sure he’ll be just fine then, overachiever.” They shared a smile, each lost in their own thoughts of the past and the future.
“Jordan,” she said, suddenly worried again. “What about the dress? It’s strange that it’s just gone, isn’t it?”
This time, he couldn’t make himself shrug. He didn’t like that little loose end either. “I don’t know,” he said, wishing he had a better answer to wipe the frown from her face. It was her sister’s wedding day. She shouldn’t have to think about such things. “But while everything’s going so well, let’s be grateful and file it under not our problem anymore.”
She reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “I guess you are a little pious now. Mom would be proud.” She made a face that showed only a tinge of regret. “Pfft, as if she wasn’t already. She always did like you best.”
“Well, you’ve always been my favorite sister,” he said, surprised when her eyes filled with tears. “Oh God, go get changed. Do not cry, I’m begging you.”
She skipped away and he continued to watch the squires go through their paces. He knew he’d need to gain some skills now that he was dedicated to staying here. He was about to get up and join them when an elderly woman sat beside him on the bench. She set a large basket filled with root vegetables on the ground at her feet and moaned quietly.
“The cook was too busy to buy my wares today,” she said, peering at him.
“There’s a wedding today,” Jordan said awkwardly. “The cook’s probably very busy.”
He’d never seen merchants enter the castle before, but he hadn’t been there long and he imagined it wasn’t too rare of an occurrence. He didn’t want to be rude, but he’d meant to get up and ask for some fighting lessons. Still, he saw the way women were frequently ignored or disdained and he knew it wouldn’t kill him to sit there a few minutes and shoot the breeze with her.
“I never lied,” she said, her voice subtly different. “You can still get back, you know. Still get away from here.”
Okay, maybe shooting the breeze with her would kill him. His hackles rose and he didn’t need to turn and stare her directly in her now vacant eyes to know it was Lyra. For a split second, less even, he considered hearing her out. Home. Cell phones, running water, football, cars, medical care that didn’t involve leeches. It all called to him, those comforts he was going to miss. Staying here would probably shorten his life considerably.
Then he saw Marjorie enter the courtyard. She was radiant in a pale blue gown, the tail of her golden hair poking out from beneath her veil. She paused and looked around, her cheeks turning pink when her eyes locked on him. He knew then that he was already home. Nothing could tempt him away from that beautiful, sorrowful face.
He turned to the witch. “I strongly suggest you get the hell out of that poor old woman and go back to whatever hole you keep crawling out of. And stay there.”
“But it’s so much better in our
time, don’t you think? You can’t say you didn’t think so. It’s so dirty and cold in this one. And aren’t you curious? Curious to know what happened to the others who came before?”
That startled him. The others who came before Fay, Sophie, and him? Could it be that they weren’t dead? What if he could find out, put Marjorie at ease with the information? Help her heal.
But what if it was another trick? Lyra had already preyed on Marjorie’s desperation and set off a chain of events no one would have ever wished for. With a glance over at Marjorie, still hovering near the courtyard entrance, he knew he couldn’t risk it.
He stared deep into the empty, vacant eyes of the possessed vegetable seller. “I’m not going to rest until I find a way to get rid of you, once and for all. Remember that if you want to keep bugging me. Every time you do, I’ll be stronger and have more knowledge. And one day, blam.” He snapped his fingers. “Back to hell for good.”
He continued glaring at her until he saw a flicker in the hazy eyes. The old woman blinked and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I should be on my way,” she said, reaching for her basket. Jordan jumped up and helped her situate it on her hip. “If I hurry, I still might make some sales in the village.”
Jordan bowed slightly. “Good luck, ma’am.”
He turned away from the old lady and smiled at Marjorie, holding out his arms in welcome.
*
Marjorie saw Jordan holding out his arms to her and blushed harder than she already was. Looking around to make sure no one noticed his untoward behavior, she hurried forward, unable to keep a smile from taking over her face. Her pounding heart couldn’t settle on an emotion. She was sorry, anxious, and so, so happy. He loved her. He’d said it more than once. Now that she was Sir Walter’s daughter again, perhaps she could reveal her own secret love. Perhaps, now, she deserved him.
No you don’t, you wicked girl. Think of the lives you’ve ruined.
The cruel voice in her head stopped her in her tracks. It was right, of course. How could she ever think she deserved anything other than living out the rest of her miserable life begging for forgiveness? She turned on her heel to do just that. It was foolish to seek out Jordan before she threw herself on the mercy of Fay and Sophie. Her sisters. But sisters against their wills. Still, she loved them the same as Anne, the same as her longtime friend, Batty. She needed their forgiveness and acceptance if she was going to be able to continue living here. If not, she’d beg her father to send her to a convent.
Strong hands gripped her shoulders and guided her to a bench. “Sit,” Jordan commanded. She felt a shiver of desire at his closeness. That forbidden sensation had never caused such despair. “I can tell by the look on your face you’re thinking about running away to a convent.”
She gasped and turned her burning face to him. His smiled told her he was teasing. How could he tease the likes of her? How could he love the likes of her? “I did think of that just now,” she said.
He laughed. “Really? I guess I can read your mind, Marjorie Grancourt. Hey, do you have a middle name?”
“Adele,” she said, before realizing she’d been swept up into his nonsense. “But that’s not important right now.”
“Everything about you is important to me,” he said, taking her hand. No one was glancing their way so she hungrily let him hold it, even as more guilt overwhelmed her.
“But don’t you remember anything?”
His jesting face turned serious. She studied it. Not angry, not accusatory. That was something. “I remember,” he said. “All of it. I’m pretty sure you broke it, Marjorie. You should be happy about that.”
“I broke the curse?” she asked, dropping her voice at the last word, afraid saying it aloud would make it come back.
“I think your original intention was for Anne to not get betrayed by Sir Harold. As soon as you learned she was never actually betrayed by him, your terms for the curse were met. And I guess you didn’t want Anne to die.”
“Don’t speak of it. I’m still so frightened for her.” Marjorie crossed herself halfway, then stopped.
“Oh, finish the cross,” Jordan said, taking her hand and moving it to both sides. “I know how you feel.” She gave him a stern look. How could he possibly? He laughed at her, but it didn’t make her angry or annoyed. It put a tentative smile on her face. “At least a little, I do,” he amended. “And yes, you should feel guilty and yes you should seek forgiveness. But you still deserve happiness.”
“I don’t know why,” she whimpered. “But I’m grateful you think so. You’re a huge comfort to me.”
He made a bitter face. “Well, that’s a start. Kind of a crappy start, but I’ll take it.”
“What do you mean? Start to what?” Goodness, he confused her. All she wanted to do was sit with him, enjoy his company and gaze at his handsome face. Yes. She admitted freely now that she thought he was handsome. She’d even admit it aloud to Batty. She wanted to touch his golden hair. It actually needed to be pushed away from his face because it was terribly unruly.
After a short grimace, he answered. “A start to making you love me. If you do remember everything, you’ll recall I told you my feelings quite a few times. So, be prepared to be wooed, Marjorie Adele.”
For a moment that continued for longer than she thought it should, joy overtook her guilt and shame. Joy that Jordan was going to fight for her. That her beloved older sister was alive and well and marrying the man she adored that very day. Her other sisters were happy, too. She knew it. Even if they never spoke to her again, she knew they loved their knights. Seeing them happy from afar would be enough for her. As the joyous feeling filled her, a naughty thought sparked its way to life. She very much liked the idea of being wooed. If she admitted to loving Jordan for far longer than he’d loved her, would she still get romantic poems, flowers, trinkets, and songs? Try as she might to keep her lips clamped together, she could never lie to him.
“But I already love you,” she said. Holding his gaze made her already blazing face seem like it would turn to cinders. “I’ve actually loved you since the forest.”
He beamed at her. “Which time?”
A giggle escaped her. How unlike her. Jordan was having an effect, that was certain. She didn’t mind it. In fact, it felt good. “After you escaped. It just occurred to me, same as when I remember a chore I need to get done.”
“Uh, that’s not very romantic.”
She shrugged. “But it was real. It was my little secret and it made me so happy. When did you discover it?”
He scratched his blond mane, making it more unruly. She couldn’t hold back any longer, and reached forward to smooth it all down. His smile grew wider at the touch. “It wasn’t a snap decision like yours, but it’s obvious you’re way smarter than me. First, I thought you were gorgeous. Then I liked you, then I felt protective, then I knew I couldn’t live without you.”
It was the loveliest thing she’d ever heard. Once again her bad, sour, ugly feelings tried to push away her giddiness. But Jordan had said she deserved happiness and she’d trusted him this far. She knew it would be a long road to get past her sorrow at what she’d done, but she was willing to start walking down it. If Jordan was at her side, surely everything would be fine.
“I hope this isn’t too presumptuous,” she said. “But I’d still like to be wooed.” She was unable to keep a mischievous smile from tugging up the corners of her lips. Lips she noticed Jordan was staring at.
His light blue eyes darkened. “I hope you don’t find this too presumptuous,” he said, moving closer. “But I’m going to kiss you right now.”
Before a gasp could escape her lips, his were pressed against them. She knew someone had to see them, knew she’d hear about it from Anne or Batty. But so what if she did? This was the man she was going to marry. She relaxed into his embrace and lifted her hand to feel the thudding of his heart through his tunic. She’d never once believed that she could feel love. Feel what it was like t
o be truly loved in return. Her heart had been broken, shriveled to a hard stone. And now it was full and whole and bursting with hope.
She gently pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes. “I think it was you who broke the curse,” she whispered.
He smiled and dipped his head for another kiss.
Epilogue
Randolph looked up at the knock on his tiny office door. He’d carved out a space for himself in what he thought might have been a garderobe many years ago, but he found with the amount of workers that were about these days, he needed a place to shut out the noise. It had taken five years, but he’d finally been able to find new investors to keep his pet project going. It seemed one bizarre death was scintillating enough to have investors beating a path to his door, but three such deaths in the space of a year and a half and people got spooked.
He pushed away the brief pain he felt at remembering his niece as he called for his unexpected visitor to enter. He believed that Fay was alive and well and would have wanted him to carry on with his work. And with the painting of Grancourt Castle that had been found in one of the towers, he was more excited than ever to get the renovations going again. It was roughly drawn on the back of another painting and the architects threw up their hands in frustration at how different it looked to what they’d previously worked out. Still, it was verified to be from at least the fourteenth century and, as always, he insisted they keep things as authentic as possible.
A young man, well, everyone looked young to Randolph these days, but he was probably in his forties, squeezed himself into the office, barely getting the door closed behind him.
“Sorry, don’t usually have visitors,” Randolph said after introducing himself, gesturing for the man to take a seat on a stack of books if he wanted. “Don’t even have an extra chair.”
“It’s no problem, sir,” the man said, not sitting on the pile of books. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. My name is Alex.” He reached across Randolph’s crowded desk and shook his hand. “My grandmother used to live in the old ruin on the other side of the woods back in the eighties. Of course, it wasn’t a ruin then, just a very old house. Perhaps you knew her?”
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