by Deanna Chase
“And you need to speak with this girl,” he guessed, horror dawning inside of him, wrapping flame-tipped fingers around his lungs. “In order to lift the curse.”
“Yes. But I don’t know where to find her.”
Pressure built in Daman’s chest, his temper stirring his insides like a cauldron about to boil over. He hadn’t realized until that moment that part of him had believed Maribel, had believed that Corrine would really lift her curse. The wilting feeling inside of him, the sour, twisting sensation unique to dying hope, fell into the flames of his temper like an offering.
“Do you think I’m sstupid?”
Corrine finally met his eyes, brown orbs perfectly calm. If the sibilance creeping into his voice concerned her, she didn’t show it. “I’m sorry?”
Daman held on to the ruined chair, using it to hold himself in place as every fiber of his being raged at him to leap at the woman who continued to torture him even in the wake of the curse that had stolen his life. The wooden frame groaned, broken boards shattering further as he squeezed.
“Mother Briar ssent you here, didn’t sshe? Sshe ssent you here to find out where Jeanne iss sso sshe can track her down and drag her back to the pit sshe kept her in.”
“The pit… What are you talking about?” Corrine raised a hand and touched the amulet around her neck. Her fingernails clicked against the surface of the crystal and a warm pulse spread through the room. “Mother Briar is a kind old woman. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the horrible things people say about witches?” Her voice was full of reproach, condescending and pitying at once. “You don’t believe we’re all evil—”
“I have sseen no evidencce to the contrary.” Before Daman was even aware of his intentions to move, he found himself in front of Corrine’s chair, the thick scales of his lower body pressed against the cushion between her legs, one hand on each side of the chair’s back. “What did the witch promisse you in return for Jeanne’ss location?”
“Nothing!” Corrine squeaked. She pressed back into the chair, trying to get as far away from Daman as possible. “She doesn’t even known I’m here! I came to get Maribel back, that’s all.”
Daman bared his fangs. Corrine’s face drained of all color as she scrabbled to firm her grip on the amulet. He should have backed away, sought some sort of shield, but he was too angry. He leaned closer, flicking his tongue out to taste the air. Fear. “You are jusst like Mother Briar,” he sneered. “Too lazy to do your own work, you need ssomeone to be your sslave. What’ss the matter, Corrine? Did my gold not buy you enough workerss?” He paused. “Or are they mean to you?” he guessed. He tilted his head, studying Corrine’s face. “Iss there not enough gold in that trunk to blind people to the monsster you really are?”
For the first time since Corrine had arrived, a spark of the woman Daman had known showed in her eyes. Her skin tightened over her features and she pressed her mouth into a thin line. She glared at Daman and for a split second, he expected flames to shoot from her eyes. Her hand tightened on the amulet and another waved of magic rolled off of her. Something tickled at the back of Daman’s mind, some sort of warning. Corrine was angry. She was obviously wielding magic. Why wasn’t she striking out at him?
“You think you know me so well,” she ground out, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so superior. You go around saving changelings, rescuing them from the people their own parents left them with, so determined to see that they get a better life—so sensitive to their suffering.” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “You were kind to me when I came here too, but then you found out I was only human. You have no time for humans, do you? Don’t care as much for their suffering.” Her nose wrinkled. “Except of course for Maribel.”
Daman seethed at hearing Maribel’s name on the witch’s lips. “You were not suffering. You were a spoiled child who wanted to be surrounded with money and servants so you wouldn’t have to work yourself.”
“How would you know what I wanted?” Corrine bit out. “You stopped listening to me as soon as you found out I was human. You couldn’t have cared less what I had to say.”
“I didn’t have to hear what you had to say, I saw it with my own eyes. I went to your father’s farm after you came here, saw for myself what your life was like. I saw your room, heard your father calling to you through the door since he thought you were still there. He begged you to come out and have your supper. His love and concern for you were obvious.”
“And you still don’t hear me, won’t listen to me.” Corrine’s breath hitched, her brown eyes glittering. “You never asked me why I wanted so badly to marry you, to stay here.”
“I didn’t need to ask you,” Daman spit back. “You couldn’t have made it more clear.”
“You think I was desperate to marry a man I didn’t love, who didn’t love me, because I wanted luxury?” Corrine seethed. “That is what you thought of me? Think of me?”
“You used your sister’s blood to fool me, lied to me about your circumstances to manipulate me, and then tried to seduce me,” Daman shot back. “That tells me all I need to know.”
“Of course it does.” Corrine slammed a hand down on the spellbook, glaring at Daman with hot tears in her eyes. “I’m tired of your judgment, your insults. You can stay in that form for all I care, let your anger eat away the rest of your humanity.” She sneered at him. “It’s not like you’re using it anyway. And when your temper finally consumes the rest of you, Maribel’s blood will be on your hands!”
Daman roared, the last shreds of control he had snapping as he reared up, fangs bared. He raised one heavy, clawed hand into the air. The tears spilled down Corrine’s cheeks as he brought his arm down, slashing at the center of her chest.
Something struck his arm a foot away from her body, halting his strike with bone-jarring suddenness. Pain jolted down his limb, rattling the bone as magic prickled over his nerves in a sensation like buzzing insects. Daman’s lips parted as he gaped at Corrine. Magic. She’d used magic to form some sort of protective shield around herself. She’d wanted him to attack her, had been goading him all along. Which meant…
“Daman, no!”
Maribel’s voice shattered the sudden silence in the room, pierced the heated fog surrounding Daman. Dishes crashed to the floor as Maribel dove forward, shoving Daman away from Corrine.
Daman didn’t fight her, couldn’t collect his wits enough to do more than fall away. The fury that had been so hot a moment ago had frozen to hard, painful slivers of ice in his veins.
Daman couldn’t move. The coil of his lower body had become heavy stone, his arm where Maribel had shoved him away ached in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain. Maribel was staring at him, not with anger or horror…but with hurt. Tears shone in her eyes, melting them to pools of blue so deep he could have drowned in them.
Those eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Every scale on his body grew heavier, the fangs in his mouth growing larger until even closing his mouth didn’t erase the thought of them from his mind, the image he knew must have greeted Maribel when she’d walked into the room. He would have appeared as a monster in her eyes, a beast intent on killing one of the people she loved most in this world. His attention flicked between Maribel and Corrine. The bond between them was as palpable as the distance between Maribel and himself.
There was nothing he could say to salvage the situation. No accusation he could rally against the witch that wouldn’t cement the picture of him as the aggressor, not when he’d been caught mid-attack and she was cowering behind a shield, sobbing like a child.
A thousand words fought to escape his lips, but they all died on his tongue under the weight of Maribel’s tears, the overwhelming sense of disappointment, of…loss. A howl built in his chest, gaining volume and power as it rose. He had to get out, get away before that sound broke free.
He fled the room.
Chapter Thirteen
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
&nb
sp; Maribel stroked Corrine’s hair over and over, though whether she was doing it to calm her sister or herself, she couldn’t be sure. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions too fractured to be rational. Daman holding her in his arms, kissing her. Daman standing in his room amidst destruction he’d wrought. Daman baring fangs longer than some kitchen knives, wicked, curved claws slashing at a crying Corrine.
Daman looking at her as though his entire world had fallen apart.
“What was I thinking? Great Goddess, what was I thinking? Bringing you here…”
“You love him,” Corrine said, her voice thick with tears. “You wanted to believe the best of him, to have faith in him. I don’t begrudge you that.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything for you.”
“Oh, Corrine, you haven’t ruined anything.” Maribel held her closer, partly to reassure herself, and partly to keep her sister from seeing her face. Maribel didn’t know what emotion her sister might find there. She didn’t know what she was feeling herself. Or maybe she didn’t want to know.
“But I did! I know you, Maribel. I know you love me, and I know you love him, and I know that you’ll never let yourself truly be with him while you feel it’s a betrayal to me.” She took a ragged breath and a fresh wave of tears soaked Maribel’s shoulder.
A betrayal. Is that what it would be to love him now? Maribel closed her eyes. Was that why she’d brought Corrine here? Why she’d ignored her better sense, ignored the voice inside her head that had told her in no uncertain terms that she’d be insane to bring her sister into the home of the man she’d cursed? Had she needed Daman to prove that he could forgive Corrine, that the two could coexist, before she gave her heart to the half-monster who’d won her without even trying?
Ha. Who am I kidding? He won me trying not to.
“Corrine, what happened? For a while it seemed…” It seemed like I could have everyone I love in my life. “It seemed like you two could get along.”
Corrine pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “Oh, Maribel, he’s never going to forgive me. He thinks I’m evil and nothing I say will change that.”
Maribel pressed her lips together. Every word out of her sister’s mouth showed Daman in a worse and worse light, but there had to be something that had tipped the scales. Daman had allowed Corrine into his home, had claimed he was willing to give her a chance. For a moment back there—
What? For a moment you thought it wasn’t going to matter? Like he was going to throw up his hands and say he didn’t care about the curse anymore as long as he could be with you?
The voice in her head was mocking, derisive. Maribel shut it out, clenching her teeth as she fought to concentrate. Something must have happened to destroy that careful balance between Daman and Corrine, and if she could understand what that thing had been, then maybe… “What. Happened?” she asked again.
Corrine’s eyes flicked over Maribel’s face for a moment—an assessment. “I told him it wasn’t my spell. It was Jeanne’s, a goblin girl who used to live with Mother Briar. I don’t know how to break the spell, so I need Jeanne’s help.” Her lower lip trembled. “Daman doesn’t believe me. He thinks Mother Briar told me to say that so I could get him to tell me where Jeanne is.”
“Jeanne is a changeling?” The word tasted strange in Maribel’s mouth. It was a word that could apparently be applied to her. My father is not my father. Corrine is not my sister. My mother… She shoved those thoughts away, locked them behind a solid door in her mind and chained it closed, throwing away the key. She wasn’t ready to think about that. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to think about that.
“Yes. Daman stole her away from Mother Briar.”
“Against her will?”
Corrine shrugged. “I don’t know. Daman claims that Mother Briar was mistreating Jeanne, but…” She shoved a hand through her hair. “It doesn’t matter. Without Jeanne’s help, I can’t lift the spell.” The chain holding the amulet around her neck clinked as she fingered the crystal. “I told him that and he got angry. So angry…”
“He has trouble controlling his temper.” Maribel rubbed her hand over her lap, trying to warm her hands that suddenly felt as though she’d bathed them in ice water. “It’s part of the curse.”
Corrine stiffened. For a moment, Maribel would have sworn she was angry, her chest filling with a sharp inhale as if preparing to shout. Then Corrine sagged against her.
“You’re mad at me too. You still want him.”
Maribel gently extricated herself from Corrine, but kept a hold of her hands. It was true, she did care for Daman. She wasn’t ready to write him off yet, not without hearing his side of the story. But Corrine was her sister— in every way that mattered. Even if she wasn’t blood… Maribel pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to calm the burgeoning headache forming there.
“Your curse has inadvertently given me more than I could have ever hoped for.”
The memory of those words mocked her now, taunting her with a happiness that seemed like a poor joke. Had he meant those words when he’d said them? If he had, what on earth could have pushed him to the edge so quickly?
Corrine laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I came back thinking I was going to rescue you, and here you don’t want to leave.”
“Corrine—”
“No.” Corrine stood up, brushing off her skirts, obviously avoiding eye contact. “No, you’re happier here.” She snorted. “I can’t blame you. It must be nice to live in such luxury, especially after the hard life you had on the farm.”
“Actually, I do the same work here that I did at home.” Maribel stiffened, her tone sharpening in self-defense. “I still cook, and I still work outside in the garden.” She didn’t mention anything about how much easier it was here, now that she could work without interruptions, or about how Daman was always very appreciative and interested in her cooking.
Corrine opened her mouth then closed it again. Her brown eyes twitched from side to side, scanning Maribel’s face. She tilted her head, looked Maribel up and down. There was a question in that gaze that needed an answer. Maribel shifted uncomfortably, feeling like livestock up for auction under that level of scrutiny. Finally Corrine rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“I want to help him, Maribel. But if I’m going to break that spell, you need to convince him to tell me where Jeanne is. I’ll go to her myself and ask for the counterspell. Maybe he’ll trust you enough to tell you.”
Maribel’s spirit rose and she leaned closer to Corrine. “You would still help him?”
“Of course I would.” Corrine offered her a half smile. “I’m really not all bad.”
“Oh, Corrine.” Maribel drew her into a hug, holding her tight for a moment as gentle waves of guilt lapped against her. “I know you’re not bad.”
“How?”
Corrine’s voice was small, muffled against Maribel’s shoulder. The vulnerability in that voice stabbed at Maribel and she tightened her hold.
“Because you’re my sister. Because you’re terrified of going anywhere by yourself, or exerting yourself, but you did both because you were worried about me. Because you can see feelings in me that I’ve only barely acknowledged, and you’re trying to help me to be happy even if…”
Even if the man I care for hates you, tried to hurt you. Even if being with him means I’ll be leaving you behind.
At some point the hug changed, became more about Corrine comforting her than the reverse.
“I love you, Maribel.”
“I love you too.”
They stayed like that for a long minute, locked together, each one offering comfort and receiving it in return. It was a reflection of how things used to be when they were young, if they were frightened, or even just sad. It was comforting in a way Maribel hadn’t expected, but had needed nonetheless.
Finally, Maribel pulled back. Corrine dropped her gaze, not meeting Maribel’s eyes.
“I can’t help him if he won’t tel
l me where Jeanne is,” she said, her voice thick with some emotion Maribel couldn’t quite identify. “Get him to tell you where she is, and I’ll do everything in my power to undo the damage I did.” Her voice grew hoarse and she cleared her throat. “I’m sure he’ll trust you enough to tell you.”
“Corrine, are you all right?” Maribel touched Corrine’s arm, flinching when her sister jerked away.
“I’m fine.” Corrine half-shrugged. “Only I’m…so tired. Would it be all right… Is there a room where I could rest before going home?”
“Oh, Corrine, I’m so sorry. I’ve been going on and on about me, about my problems, and here you’re probably ready to collapse.”
Nice. Ask her to help the man who tried to cut her to ribbons and completely ignore the fact that she travelled all the way here by herself.
“Of course I can show you to a room where you can rest. Follow me.”
They stood and Corrine paused, gaze fixed on the mess where Maribel had dropped the dinner tray. Chunks of chicken and thick slices of mushroom lay in a nest of broken crockery, all of it spattered with thick white sauce. The scent of tender shallots and warm Marsala wine perfumed the air, still enough to tempt Maribel’s senses despite the dinner’s ruined state.
“Chicken Marsala.” Corrine inhaled deeply and her stomach growled. “Now that is a sad sight.”
“I have more,” Maribel offered. “The sauce is keeping warm over the fire, and it doesn’t take long to cut up a bit more chicken.”
Corrine shuffled over to the mess and started to kneel. Maribel’s lips parted in shock as she plucked pieces of broken plate from the ground.
“Let me help you clean up this mess,” Corrine said, still eyeing the food as though she wanted to cry.
“I…” Maribel cut herself off from the automatic response that wanted to assure Corrine that she didn’t need to do that, that Maribel could clean it up. She squared her shoulders. If Corrine wanted to help, that was good—admirable. “Thank you,” Maribel told her seriously, kneeling beside her to help.