Persuaded to Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency

by Amanda A. Allen

  Oliver and Hugh instantly stood. There was something in his voice that made the other two men, who were strong and powerful, obey without question. Hugh tugged Alice behind him. Venetia didn't respond.

  “I will not hurt her,” Rhys said. “I will not bully her. I will speak softly and…”

  “Here,” Venetia ordered, pointing to a chair a fair distance from Antigone. “No touching, no threats, no bullying either in voice, words, or offers. Whatever you’re going to say, you don’t manipulate her. Not now.”

  “Agreed,” the Duke said. His eyes crinkled just a little bit as he recognized the fierce protectiveness of a kindred spirit.

  “Antigone?” Venetia’s soft question left little doubt that she would not leave her friend if Antigone wanted company.

  “It’s fine,” Antigone said. Her eyes were closed. She leaned back against the chair, and was taking shallow breaths.

  * * * * *

  Venetia did not go far from the door, but she did not attempt to eavesdrop.

  “What do you think they are doing?” Alice asked softly.

  “I have no idea,” Hugh replied. Alice’s hand was on the baby growing inside of her, and Hugh wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing his hands over hers. There was such tenderness in the movement that Venetia was surprised by an ache of jealousy.

  “I think that Rhys is offering her protection. The truth is—few would dare to challenge him. In anything,” Oliver said, looking at his cousin. This time it was their gazes that conveyed a history that few would understand. But if anyone knew the protection that the Duke of Wolfemuir could offer—it was members of his pack.

  Venetia was listening, but she was also pacing. The demons of her dearest friend—the woman who was sister and friend and family to Venetia. Antigone—with her worries and her willingness to do anything to protect her mother—had locked herself into a lie so deeply that she refused to consider anything else. She lived on the edge of society, so no one would discover that she was not a mage. She hid her abilities so that only Uncle Bradford, Alice, and Venetia saw them in use. Antigone…had been given a hard life for the society of Kendawyn where things like being untrue to your spouse was something that was simply not done.

  And perhaps it would have been fine if Antigone had simply been a mage. But she wasn’t—she was of the most powerful line of abilities. In Kendawyn, the vast majority were mages, werewolves, or vampires. Kendawyners aged to around a millennia and then faded from the world. Few deaths outside of that occurred. But very, very rarely an individual faded and then returned as a ghost. A ghost who could take physical form, father or mother children, and continue to exist beyond that first millenia.

  On the even rarer occasion a child was born of the union of a ghost and a Kendawyner that combined abilities—those of a ghost, those of a mage, a vampire, a werewolf or any of it. That level of power—and they were the most powerful version of the abilities they carried—had long since been used in Kendawyn by the rulers as slayers. It had been thousands of years since Kendawyn had chosen to live a controlled life with controlled society. But the memories of their people were long and everyone recalled the days when “reapers” were the assassins.

  To be a reaper now, even with their restricted society, was to be feared.

  How sad was it, Venetia thought, that her friend had been gifted with the most astounding of abilities and because of the choices of others—both in the past of their people and the choices of her parents—she had to hide those abilities rather than exult in them.

  Life was not fair, she told herself yet again. She had thought it often when she thought of her parents. She had thought it often when she thought of the death of her birth mother. The losses Venetia had experienced, but nothing seemed more bitter to her now than realizing that the love of Antigone for her mother had put the child in a terrible box where her happiness was forever second fiddle to the happiness of a mother who barely deserved the title.

  * * * * *

  Venetia waited for the others to leave before she looked her question at Antigone.

  “He offered to marry me.” The words were a whisper. “He offered me his protection, his pack, and his name. It would solve everything. He was right when he said it.”

  Venetia simply waited, letting Antigone let it all out.

  “I didn’t say yes.”

  The guilt was so obvious. So clear. Venetia could almost see the spirit of Antigone’s mother in the room, weighing on her mind as Antigone continued, “Maybe I should have.”

  Her words and expression were tortured and Venetia could not take it any longer. “No, no. Antigone, no.”

  Antigone didn’t respond, she just continued, “I just can’t. I don’t love him. I have told myself time after time that I could never marry. That I’d never be able to keep Mother’s secret if I did marry. I told myself not to think of it. To never consider it. All this time I have said that to myself. All this time I have built my dreams around other things. No matter how many times Uncle Bradford suggested I think on it. No matter what, I never let myself dream of it or wish for it or even decide if it was something that I wanted.”

  Venetia took Antigone’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “But now that Alice is so happy. Now that you are falling in love. I find that the offer Rhys made isn’t good enough. I can’t just marry to protect mother or myself. Some halfway version of what Alice has—it’s not good enough. I don’t have to. I couldn’t stand it. Not even for my mother.”

  Venetia licked her lips carefully before she said, so softly, so tenderly, “You shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to. It’s not right.”

  “I…”

  Antigone couldn’t say the rest. That she knew. She had never been able to say it. To rail against her mother who actually loved the man she married. And yet she had a liaison that had ruined Antigone’s life. Why couldn't have her mother just been true to her promises? Why hadn’t she made different choices? Why had she done this to her daughter?

  “I want…”

  Venetia waited, holding Antigone’s hand as she confessed something she had never been able to say before, “I want to be in love if I marry.”

  “What are we going to do, then?” Venetia asked. They were a unit. They had been for so long. Their friendship had the depth and loyalty of sisters who had been born to each other and the things they had experienced together had further bound their lives.

  “See what happens,” Antigone suggested softly.

  That meant letting her mother’s secret potentially be discovered. Venetia wondered how the woman would react. Would she hate Antigone? Should they send a warning? By the way, your peccadilloes of the past may be discovered. Prepare yourself…

  Surely not.

  “So, shall we go shopping tomorrow then? I have been considering a new riding hat. Or perhaps some gloves.” Venetia’s statement was not a discarding of Antigone’s trouble. It was more of a statement that they would carry on with their lives despite the impending threat. Together.

  Antigone gave a watery laugh before she said, “Perhaps something embroidered.”

  “Indeed,” Venetia agreed. “Something silky that is embroidered. Or gloves that are embroidered. Perhaps both.”

  Their hands remained clasped for long minutes. Venetia finally stood to ring for tea, but before she did it, she turned to her friend and said, “No matter what happens, I am here for you.”

  “That is what gives me the courage to carry on,” Antigone said starkly. Her eyes were shadowed, her skin pale. They had reversed positions since arriving in Arathe-By-The-Sea. This time it was Venetia who was caring for her friend, worrying over her, and willing to carry her burdens.

  Venetia didn’t see any reason for them to begin blubbering again, so she rang the bell and sat down. They ate out of habit more than desire. They drank the tea to steady their nerves and said nothing about the battle to come. Even when the others came back into the room, Venetia ordered them to silence abo
ut everything that mattered with a comment on the weather and a gaze that promised a terrible retribution if she was not obeyed. What happened next didn't matter as long as they were together.

  And it turned out as each of them considered what could occur in the coming days the idea of Alice, Hugh, Oliver, and even Rhys gave them more comfort than they’d expected. Always it had been them against the world with Uncle Bradford as a gentle backdrop. But now…it wasn’t that way anymore. Somehow, things had changed. Somehow—even without promises being given—their family had grown.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You are a shockingly frightening woman behind your elegant facade,” Oliver said as he walked next to Venetia down the boulevard. As a group, they were heading to a pretty little shop for chocolate. A man named Jacque St. Bernard made the most amazing creations and today was a day for indulgences. Already Venetia, Alice, and Antigone had shopped for hours. Venetia had found herself buying a rather large selection of embroidered and beribboned nightgowns. They were elegant, lacy, and rather different from what she already possessed.

  Antigone and Alice had even refrained from pointing out the obvious direction of Venetia’s thoughts. It was reasons like these that they were such close friends.

  Venetia’s hand was on Oliver’s arm, and it felt right. So perfectly wonderful to tuck her arm through his, and feel his strength beside her. She did not need him, but she did. She could and had stood alone for so long. But in the last few days, she’d come to realize that though she could stand alone, she didn’t have to. And that she was not lessened by letting another help her.

  “Are you surprised?” She asked quietly, turning her face to the sun and letting in deep breaths of the perfect sea air.

  “Delighted.” He said. “I enjoyed our fun so much I didn’t realize that there was so much more to discover about you. You are fierce and a little terrifying.”

  The clip-clop of horses hooves accompanied the sound of voices on the street. It was a beautiful day and the height of the traveling season in Arathe-By-The-Sea. Those who lived in the city year-round were surrounded by those who came only occasionally. The little shops were thriving and people were ready to be delighted. The call of gulls carried over the sound of the horses, and the scent of sea air, with its steady breeze, filled the town with a constant fresh breath of air. One of the many reasons why Venetia loved the little city so much.

  “How often do you come here?” Oliver asked as they nodded at acquaintance after acquaintance.

  “Every year,” Venetia said. “I don’t really care for Lyndon and neither does Antigone. It’s too crowded and there’s not enough room to ride.”

  “Hell for leather?”

  “Of course,” she laughed. Her gaze darted here and there. Though the pressures of the previous day had faded with distance, she was looking out for her friend as well as she could.

  “There is little to be gained from telling the secret,” Oliver said, understanding the direction of her thoughts. “I have been considering long on it.”

  “There is much, however, to be gained from selling that secret. Antigone is incredibly valuable to the right person.”

  “You mean like stealing her and forcing her to use her abilities for them?”

  “She could steal you blind. She could kill you in the safety of your home. She could listen to all of your secrets and discover all of your hiding places,” Venetia said under her breath. “That man with Maud Janus has plans for Antigone, I am sure.”

  “She is not friendless,” Oliver said. “It is very rare for one such as her to disappear in any society—let alone Kendawyn.”

  “Oh but she is very friendless to the outside eye. Do you see her mother? Her father? The true father or the one who supposedly raised her? She lives with an ancient relative in the back of beyond. To an idiot outsider, her only friend is a Tyros with an ancient adoptive father. Hardly worrisome.”

  * * * * *

  There was so much weight in each of those words, and so much anger that Oliver was delighted, yet again, by the fierceness of this little, elegant creature and shocked by her. If he could convince her to be his, he expected he’d be constantly amazed by her. The idea of it rolled out a whole new vision of a millennia with her--and it was intoxicating beyond belief.

  But, that was outside of the initial horror of her words, he hadn’t paid nearly as much attention to Antigone as he had to Venetia. He’d only seen their friendship as it referenced Venetia.

  But it was true. Antigone’s family had essentially abandoned her to the country.

  “She has you. She has the Wolfemuir.”

  “I am an obscure Tyros. And even if she does have the Wolfemuir—that is so new and unexpected, that it is no protection. Not yet. There hasn’t been time for villains to realize that she is connected to the Wolfemuir. None of this is what she deserves,” Venetia hissed. “Not by half.”

  * * * * *

  “Is that…” Alice’s voice trailed off and she looked out the window of the chocolatier. Her hand was on the baby, and the look on her face was both fierce and horror-filled. The expression made the hair on the back of Venetia’s neck rise.

  “What darling?” Hugh’s gaze followed hers, but he didn’t seem to see what she had thought she had.

  She shook her head, thinking she was just being ridiculous, but Rhys demanded, “What Alice?”

  “I’m sure I’m just being silly. I feel like I have been seeing phantoms all morning and then I have realized I just saw something in nothing.” Alice said softly. She glanced around the group and found every single one of her friends focused on her.

  “Darling?”

  The endearment was a question, and she didn’t want to answer it. But, she didn’t think that any of them would let it go.

  “I thought I saw, Maud Janus,” she said. “I’m sure I’m just being fanciful. Like I said, this is not the first time today I have thought I’ve seen her and been wrong.”

  “Says the female who rescued Hugh from certain death,” Rhys said under his breath. It was clear from his tone of voice that he didn’t care if she was being fanciful or not. He would believe her until he saw reason not to.

  “Please don’t worry,” Alice said reaching past Hugh to take Rhys’s hand. “We have enough to worry over. And why would she follow us? She knows what we look like. She knows us well enough."

  “We need a plan,” Rhys said. His eyes glowed gold and he had not eaten one chocolate despite the plate in front of him. Antigone, however, had determinedly enjoyed several. Or pretended to.

  “We have one,” Antigone replied. “We wait to see what happens and respond.”

  “That isn’t how I work,” Rhys said, eyes constantly scanning the revelers walking down the streets of Arathe-By-The-Sea as if they were enemy combatants rather than spoiled, rich Kendawyners.

  “Well, leave then,” Antigone shot back, giving him a look of suppressed fury.

  “I am not the one who is doing this to you.”

  “We don’t need you to take over,” she hissed.

  “I don’t want to take over. Let me find them and murder them for you. And you can go back to life as normal.”

  “Murdering them is taking over.”

  Venetia met Alice’s eyes at that comment. Alice pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh, but one escaped Venetia a moment later. Alice started laughing too and even Antigone realized what she had said and started laughing. Rhys didn’t, and for that matter, Hugh and Oliver didn’t join in, but none of the women cared.

  “What are we going to do?” Antigone asked, sounding defeated. As if to belie that defeat she ate another chocolate and tried to force a smile.

  “Murdering them is a real choice,” Rhys said.

  Antigone didn’t even acknowledge the statement.

  “Perhaps,” Venetia said, carefully, “Murdering is going a bit far. But we do have some of the most powerful werewolves at our feet. We might as well use their ability to hunt.”
/>   “What are you saying,” Antigone asked, aghast.

  “Not murder. Definitely, completely not murder. But…”

  “What?” Antigone snapped.

  “But they could find them. They could figure out the plan. They could give us the information necessary to decide whether to murder them in a sort of advance self-defense.”

  “You are bloodthirsty as His Grace,” Antigone said and the title was a sneer, but Rhys simply lifted Antigone’s hand and kissed her knuckles.

  “Um,” Alice said, darting a look between the two of them.

  There was such tenderness in Rhys’s action that it made it clear he wasn’t just chasing to chase anymore. To everyone, Venetia thought, except Antigone. She had been so unloved for so much of her life, Venetia thought that Rhys would have a hard time making Antigone believe he was earnestly in love.

  “I don’t think that we can trust the lout not to kill anyone,” Antigone said jerking her hand from Rhys and slapping his shoulder.

  “Of course you can. I probably haven’t murdered anyone yet. Have I?”

  Hugh and Oliver’s gazes met and then Hugh said, “Murder? No. You’ve never done that. Probably.”

  Rhys shot his cousins a dirty look before he said, “See. You can trust Hugh. He’s whipped and wimpy these days. And Alice can tell when he lies. Alice?”

  She took a sip of cocoa before she said carefully, “I’m sure that any deaths were justified.”

  Antigone snorted. The worries that had faded while the three of them were shopping had come back. Venetia didn’t think her friend had even realized that they had been, essentially, guarded throughout the entire trip allowing their sheer, thoughtless enjoyment.

  “Antigone, waiting for your permission is about the most reasonable I have been in my life. Hugh and Oliver agree that something must be done. This Maud Janus wench and whoever she’s told your secret to have plans. It is better to be proactive. Proactive protection allows us to do the things like choose our ground and know what we need to defend ourselves against. This isn’t just being ruined in society.”