“Yes. Shall I show you upstairs?” He looked rumpled and half-asleep, but his voice was kind.
“Lady Overton told me how to find it. You can go to bed.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I think you misjudge all of us, if you think you’ll be left to find your way to your room alone in the dark on your wedding night. Theo may have been called away, but you’re hardly abandoned, Mrs. Overton.”
She smiled her thanks, and he took up the lantern and led the way up the stairs, holding the lantern to the side so that it lit the steps for her.
The corridor was papered in a beautiful white on white damask, which caught the lantern light with an elegant glow. Anselm opened the door for her and stepped aside, proffering the lantern.
“Here you are, Mrs. Overton.” He bowed formally to her.
“Don’t you want the lantern?” she asked. “I can see by the moonlight through the windows.” The silvery light spilled through the windows which filled the far wall of the spacious sitting room.
“I know my way around the place by now,” Anselm said with a smile. “Good night to you.”
He set off back down the hall.
Lily held the lantern up into the darkened corners of the room. There were two generously sized couches of velvet, though the competing silver moonlight and warm yellow lantern light made it hard to judge the color. There was a fireplace on each side wall, and beside the fireplace were shelves of books and art objects made indistinct by shadow.
She turned to the left and entered her suite. She lit another lantern from the first, which she left on the low table before the fireplace, which obviously was the other side of the one in their shared sitting room. A vase of roses stood on the table, and the fresh scent in the air told her they had been cut that morning.
Through another door she found her bedroom. The room itself was spacious and bright, with white paper on the walls and a rich blue rug on the floor. Another vase of roses stood beside the bed.
A tall wardrobe stood against the opposite wall, along with a beautiful bureau, and a cedar chest sat at the foot of the bed. There was a lovely blue spread upon the bed, intricately embroidered with roses in white and silver thread. She found her belongings, including the filmy white nightgown she had planned to wear this first night, hanging in the wardrobe. There was another door, which led to a small room whose purpose she did not know.
Lily dressed silently and carefully hung her wedding dress in the wardrobe. She washed her face in the basin and patted it dry with the soft cotton towel, then held up the lantern to examine herself in the full-length mirror on a stand beside the wardrobe. Her eyes were wide and slightly red. She looked tired. Her nightgown was nearly sheer, and she had not yet dared imagine Theo’s expression when he saw it.
She smiled sadly and saw that the sadness was even more obvious than she had hoped.
She looked at the bed.
A spirit of boldness overtook her. Despite his absence, Theo had given every indication that he adored her.
They were married.
She found a thick dressing gown of rich brocade and pulled it on. Then she went back to her sitting room, blew out the second lamp, and crossed into the shared sitting room. She hesitated at the door to Theo’s room. This was bold, indeed, and her courage nearly failed.
With a deep breath, she turned the knob to enter Theo’s suite.
The sitting room was arranged much like hers, though the couch was a different color and the walls were darker. There was a general air of masculinity about it, though in the shadows she couldn’t identify what gave her that impression. Perhaps it was merely that there were no roses on the table.
With more trepidation, she went through the open door to his bedroom.
Again, the room was much like hers, though the colors were different. Along the near wall was a rack of elegant swords; their blades gleamed bright in the dancing light. The spread on the bed was burgundy and embroidered roses gleamed in gold and silver. There were two doors on the opposite wall, corresponding to the one in her room. She peeked through one to see that the little room was used as an enormous wardrobe. Neat rows of exquisite jackets and trousers hung ready for use, with their matching slippers and boots lined up on the floor. The other was a darkened room lined with bookshelves, with a desk and chair in the middle and a window on the opposite wall which looked out to the distant hills.
She turned back to the bed.
She was not, in actuality, bold enough to climb into his bed. The very thought made her queasy with both the audacity of the idea and mortification at the thought of what might follow. He should be there to consent to such intimacy. Invading his private sanctum like this was already beyond reasonable.
Instead, she found a light coverlet on a nearby chair and curled up on top of the bedspread.
She did not expect to sleep quickly, but her thoughts had been whirling for so long, and she was so exhausted, that it was only moments before dreams claimed her.
Lily jerked awake as someone stomped into the room, snarling almost inaudibly.
She gasped, suddenly aware that this little romantic endeavor had been an absolutely terrible idea.
“Who’s there?” snapped Theo’s voice from the darkness.
“I… I’m sorry,” Lily whispered. “I was…”
Theo said blankly, “Lily?”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, trembling. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry.”
“What did you tell Willowvale?” His voice shook.
“What?”
“Yesterday at the reception! Every time I turned around, you were talking to Lord Willowvale! What did you tell him?” He fumbled for something, muttered under his breath, and then a match flared to life. It caught his face for a moment, then he held the match to the lantern wick.
The wick caught, and he turned the lamp up as far as it would go. They stared at each other.
Theo had already shed his beautiful jacket; it was tossed over the chair near the door. The vest beneath it was missing a button, and his exquisite silk shirt was darkened with sweat. His cravat was half-untied, though she was not sure whether that had been done purposefully or not. His eyes were wild and red-rimmed.
She licked her lips. “Nothing, I think.”
His gaze grew hard. “Nothing,” he said flatly. A muscle in his jaw worked. He held the lantern up and looked her over more closely.
She clutched the dressing gown close at her neck, unwilling to feel entirely vulnerable before this new, frightening person. Theo had never been angry. She had not known he even could be angry.
“Where have you been?” She bit her lip and stared at him with wide eyes.
His mouth twitched, and he looked her up and down again. He stepped closer. “What did you tell Willowvale, Lily? Please tell me.”
His eyelashes were damp, as if he had been weeping, and the shock of that observation dried her mouth. “I don’t… nothing, I think.” It was difficult to even cast her mind back that far; she had thought so much of Theo’s absence, of her own disappointment, that Lord Willowvale seemed a distant and inconsequential memory. “I… he asked why I seemed happy,” she whispered.
Theo let out a short, hard breath, and said, “I adore you, Lily, but I think tonight I am far too angry to appreciate your”—he waved a hand, encompassing everything from her state of scandalous undress to her very existence—“romantic efforts.”
She clutched the dressing gown with both hands, as if it would shield her from the ice in his words. “I’m sorry. I won’t trouble you again.” Her voice shook.
“What did you tell him?” Theo’s voice cracked.
“Nothing!” Lily whispered. “I’ll… I’ll leave you now.” She tried to lift her chin, but a dry, painful sob caught in her throat.
Theo did not move, only watched her. The light danced on the walls as his hand holding the lantern shook.
She fled to her room and closed the door behind her, then curled on t
he bed and wept.
Lily finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion some time before dawn. She dozed fitfully, but woke again when golden light spilled across the bed. She gave up on sleep and dressed, trying to focus on the simple actions of hanging her nightgown and dressing gown and putting on matching slippers. If she thought about the night before, tears sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t want to weep again.
She washed her face and looked in the mirror. Her grey eyes looked haunted, and she swallowed, trying on different smiles to see which ones looked the most convincing. None of them were particularly good.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then opened the door to the shared space.
Theo’s door was half-open, and it was apparent he was already gone. She stepped quietly to the door and peeked in. The bedspread was hardly disturbed; it looked like he had not slept in his bed at all.
Lily gathered her courage and opened the door to the corridor.
The house was quiet, and she made her way down the main stairs before she heard any hint of voices. She followed the sound to a small dining room flooded with morning light. When she peeked around the corner, she saw Theo eating with his parents.
He saw her, too. He stood and bowed formally. “Lily,” he said. “I would be honored if you would join us for breakfast.” His tone was cool and perfectly controlled.
She stared at him. “Are you angry at me?” she whispered, not caring whether his parents heard either the question or the answer.
Theo said quietly, “You have assured me that there is no cause to be angry, so I must not be.” He bowed again and indicated the seat nearest him, which was set with bright white china.
She crept to the seat, feeling suddenly mouselike and more unsure of herself than she had ever been.
Lady Overton glanced between them, her eyes anguished, then looked down. “Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding,” she murmured.
“I certainly hope so,” said Sir Theodore. His gaze on Lily was cool and unreadable, but not exactly hostile.
Theo served her eggs and sausage from the platters in the middle of the table, then poured tea for her from the pitcher. He offered her the platter of fluffy biscuits and then the little pots of butter and berry preserves in succession.
Lily had never felt under such intense scrutiny in her entire life, and she felt herself cracking into a thousand weeping pieces. Theo’s gaze was steadily upon her, as if he would see into her soul.
She could not force any of the smiles she had practiced, and instead it was all she could to do say, “Thank you,” when he had finished serving her.
The weight of his regard made her want to keep looking down, but in a moment of courage she looked up to meet his eyes squarely.
The shadows under his eyes stood out because he was so pale; he must not have slept at all. Nevertheless, his shirt was fresh and crisp, and his hair damp, as if he’d bathed already.
And his eyes! He looked as though everything he’d ever hoped for had been stripped from him and left him utterly desolate.
“What happened?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
He swallowed and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing.”
Chapter 22
The Other Side
Theo ran from the reception toward the stable, where Juniper met him, as Anselm had said he would. The young fairy formed the glamour as quick as thought. “You want it to wait until you’re out of sight?”
“Yes, please. One for the horse as well. People know this one.” Theo saddled the gray gelding faster than he had ever saddled a horse before. He grunted with effort as he pulled the girth tight, then put on the horse’s bridle. He jumped into the saddle.
“Here.” The young fairy passed him his sword, which he buckled on, and then the glamour. “Godspeed. Wait! Here’s the binding magic, if you can use it.” He pressed the magic into Theo’s hand, and it was so strong that Theo gasped, feeling that his heart was being tugged out through his fingertips for a moment.
“Thank you. Stay out of sight.”
“Yes, sir.” Juniper’s words were lost in hoofbeats as Theo departed at a run.
It was nearly four miles to the children’s home, and Theo nearly wept with frustration when he had to let the horse slow. He did not yet have the control of the veil to ensure that if he went into it, he would be able to come out close enough to the children’s home to save time.
So he let the horse trot, then canter, then trot a little more, pushing it harder than he ever had.
The children’s home looked almost serene when he finally reached it. He rode the horse directly into the garden and jumped off, leaving it lathered and blowing hard. Both the front and back garden were empty.
Theo sprinted inside.
There was a sound from the stairwell, and he headed for it at a run.
Essie screamed, and children were crying.
Lord Willowvale stood halfway up the stairwell, sword in hand. “Come now, you cannot believe there is any use in this resistance. Give me the children and keep your lives.”
Theo said from the bottom of the stairs, “Leave now and keep your own, fairy.”
Lord Willowvale turned his head in surprise, and John, holding the top of the stairs with a sword in hand, nearly skewered him. Lord Willowvale batted the sword away, then took several steps down toward Theo.
“Who are you?” growled the fairy. “You wear a glamour, far too strong for human making, but I do not think you a fairy.”
“I believe you call me the Rose. I do carry a thorn.” Theo brandished his sword, intentionally leaving a vulnerability to tempt Lord Willowvale to strike.
The fairy did so, lunging down the stairs with startling speed, leaving John panting at the top.
Theo narrowly missed being run through, and he stumbled backward, exaggerating how off-balance he was.
“Who are you?” snarled Lord Willowvale again, following up with a flurry of lightning-fast attacks.
Theo said nothing. Like all fairies, Lord Willowvale was faster, stronger, and more coordinated than most humans. Only Theo’s long training with Cedar enabled him to parry and riposte quickly enough to avoid being gutted.
By retreating, he managed to draw the fairy a little farther into the living room.
“Leave off your foolish attempt to distract me,” snapped Lord Willowvale.
“Leave off your depraved attempt to punish children for your own land’s malaise,” retorted Theo.
The glamour he wore was that of a broad-shouldered middle-aged man, with dark hair and the shadow of a beard. His clothes were dark and well-made, though hardly as exquisite as Theo’s wedding attire.
“Are you a soldier?” Lord Willowvale mused as he drove Theo around the chaise lounge in the sitting room and out toward the lobby. With a flick of his wrist, he managed to open an ugly gash on the outside of Theo’s shoulder.
Theo hissed in pain and drove in with a lunge that surprised Lord Willowvale, who stumbled backward. Theo drew the tip of his sword across the fairy’s throat lightly, letting the iron burn a bright red streak without drawing blood.
The fairy’s eyes darkened in fury, and he redoubled the speed of his attacks.
“You shall not have the children,” said Theo, breathless and steadfast.
“If I kill you, I will.”
Theo laughed aloud, and the sound, changed as it was by the glamour, sounded wild and haughty. “If I kill you, you won’t,” he retorted. “Is that what we’re to do now? Kill each other here? How did you find this place?”
The fairy snarled, “Mrs. Overton gave the last clue I needed. Now I know what to look for. If you hide them again, I’ll only find them more quickly.” He stepped back, his chest heaving, and eyed Theo warily. “I’ve had enough for now. Take your little temporary triumph and enjoy it, for it will not last long.” He bared his teeth in a cruel smile and bowed.
Theo returned the bow, and his gaze did not leave the fairy until Lord Willow
vale strode easily out of the house. He watched as the fairy studied his mount, then departed, without having given any sign of having seen through the glamour and recognizing the animal.
Only then did Theo walk back to the bottom of the stairs. “He’s gone,” he said. His voice sounded strange in his own ears, breathless and cold and a little too deep.
John descended first, his sword still in hand. “It is you, isn’t it?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes,” said Theo. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” The older man’s voice shook. “I was inside and Essie was outside with the older girls. They were picking tomatoes and peppers.” He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “He came around the corner of the house, from the front, and caught two of them with his hands. He ripped a hole in the world and disappeared with them. He had just come back for more when you arrived.”
The man sat down heavily on the chaise lounge so recently the scene of a fight.
Essie came down the stairs next, looking around cautiously before calling up to the remaining children, “You can come down.”
They came down hurriedly and clustered around Essie and John, eying the unfamiliar glamoured Theo with unease.
Theo stood and pressed a hand to his mouth, his mind racing.
Lord Selby, generous of heart and never one to speak ill of anyone, had told him he had overheard Lord Willowvale and Lily speaking of the children. He had not heard much, and had not wanted to misinterpret what Lily had said. Perhaps it had been nothing.
Yet here was Lord Willowvale, at the house Theo had tried so hard to protect, and two children, already traumatized and exhausted, had been stolen back to the Fair Lands. Theo had promised them they would never have to endure that dancing again, never have to fuel a dying land’s survival with their tears and terror.
And somehow, Lily had been responsible.
A dry sob caught in his throat, and he turned away to look through the window at the street.
Essie came to stand at his shoulder. “You’re bleeding,” she said quietly.
The Wraith and the Rose Page 18