Blooming Black: Rosewood Academy of Witches and Mages (Darkly Sweet Book 4)

by Juliann Whicker

  I laughed breathlessly, my chest rising and falling against his while he stared at me until he touched my face, fingers careful, like I was breakable.

  “The quilt is on the floor. I hate to mess up your authentic witch garret, but would you mind if I spelled the dust away?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not particularly attached to it. I know that you’re a rather clean mage what with your laundry obsession.”

  His fingers slid from my cheek to my neck, sliding along the side down to my shoulder and the neckline of my black nightgown. “I look forward to doing your laundry for the rest of your life. I adore your laundry almost as much as I like the witch inside it.”

  He stood suddenly, bending to pull the quilt off the ground. He shook it roughly sending a puff of dust into the air. Lines of green light spread through my attic from my mage and when the quilt settled down on top of us, there wasn’t a trace of dust I could see. He settled down and shifted until I was spooned against his chest. I could feel my name engraved in his skin, and he kept contact with my shoulder where I wore his initials. I felt at once alive and exhausted.

  “Tomorrow you will be Penny Huntsman, my deliriously sweet and brilliant love.”

  I swallowed. He’d called me his love. It didn’t mean anything, but my heart glowed with happiness anyway. I lay awake in his arms for a long time with his steady breathing behind me until the candles burned low and guttered out leaving me in the dark with Drake.

  “I love you,” I whispered before I drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up to a tray being thumped on my legs.

  “Good morning, Penny Lane. I made you breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, three kinds of toast with a variety of jam and marmalade since Revere informs me that you are a marmalade fiend, and cereal heaped with berries and nuts so you can feel like a squirrel. He said you were very squirrel-like.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at the mage past the piles of food. He’d forgotten to mention the stacks of pancakes drenched in syrup. He was so beautiful, red hair glowing in the candlelight, dark eyes dancing with clusters of green glowing brightly.

  “What happened to your pajamas?”

  He nodded towards the armoire. “I put them in the drawer below. I hope you don’t mind. I used your bath, after I found your bathroom. I filled the tub for you and spelled it warm. The plan is for you to eat, bathe, dress, and then meet us below in the sunroom. Do you need anything else?” He leaned over and kissed my nose. “You look ridiculously adorable all mussed and soft from sleep. I wish I could climb in the blankets with you. Later.” He grinned mischievously and brushed my nose with his.

  My heart fluttered at that soft touch. For a minute after he straightened up my stomach was in such knots I couldn’t possibly eat, but he put a sausage in my mouth and somehow cured my lack of hunger.

  He laughed and left me to my breakfast, maybe to clean the kitchen. He was a very tidy mage. Was this how marriage was? Breakfast in bed and warm snuggles all night? I could get used to that very quickly. I ate and ate until the tray was polished, but I saved some nuts to give the Professor. I petted him and snuggled him for a little while before I put him away. I danced around my attic, wandering around until I remembered that I was supposed to take a bath. The water was perfect and filled with green bubbles that floated up without popping when I disturbed them. That whole corner of the attic where my copper tub sat was filled with glowing bubbles above me, green, reflecting me and my candlelit bath. I washed my hair using Grandmama’s best stuff, then conditioner. My hair would take ages to dry. I shook it out and ran my hands through it. The floor around the tub was warm. In fact, the entire walk from the tub to the armoire was warm, but when I stepped to the side, it was cold. He’d heated a path to the armoire for me. My chest ached for a moment from the sweetness of the gesture.

  I dressed slowly, layers of delicate underthings and silk stockings, slips, and finally the gorgeous silk dress that slid over me like a dream. I zipped it and it fit as snug as a glove while the skirt floated around like the curve of a petal.

  I twirled and laughed, arms spread as though I could capture the happiness in my hands. I twisted my hair up, letting part of it tumble down, fastening it with grandmama’s diamond pins, put on soft, delicate makeup, and then the perfect blush pink slippers. I was ready. As I walked to the door, I noticed the lack of dust and the scent of roses that swirled up with every step.

  On the landing I paused. Thousands and thousands of flowers were attached to the railings that wound down to the hall, and the waiting soldier was a massive heap of blooms so you couldn’t even see the tip of his spear. The floor was covered with rose petals and candles glowed everywhere, hovering in the air just waiting to drip wax on an unsuspecting passerby. Distant music played like falling water, glistening and perfect.

  My heart tightened and my skin got prickly. It was too beautiful. It couldn’t be real, but I didn’t have dreams like this. I didn’t want to blink and miss the beauty even for a moment. I walked slowly, holding my skirts up as I stepped carefully over the velvety petal strewn steps. Every step felt like falling further and further in love. When I reached the bottom step, there was Revere, standing as still as a statue in his typical black suit.

  When he offered his arm, I blinked for a second before I rested my fingers on his sleeve.

  “Your mage is ridiculously nonsensical. He insisted on personally arranging every petal. I’d call him a fop, but the effect is quite charming. You look very sweet.”

  I blinked at him. “I think that’s the idea.”

  “I see. I’m certain that he’ll adjust to Pitch as well. I’ve rarely seen a mage so happy. It’s a dangerous thing. Be cautious.”

  We entered the sunroom which had been cleared of its usual clutter and instead, it had sconces filled with blooms, and Drake playing the old painted piano, the formerly out of tune instrument producing sounds of such dizzying beauty, I was certain Drake had enchanted it, until I saw his hands moving over the ivory. His hands were so strong yet slender, precise yet tender.

  He played the final note then turned and stood in a smooth movement that looked choreographed. He walked towards me like a prince, shoulders strong and broad beneath the perfectly fitted tuxedo. He wore a tophat, and Professor Cadaver was eating a cookie on the brim.

  I sobbed and covered my mouth before any other sounds could come out. My lips were trembling. I sniffed and tried to keep the messy emotions from boiling up.

  He took my hand and I floated to him, coming to a rest in his arms. He brushed my cheek with his fingers before turning and leading me over to my mother where she stood in the light of the dawn, the morning star clearly visible behind her through the large sheet of glass.

  She looked past me. “Signore, you have the appropriate licenses?”

  I turned and there was Signore Ludi in the dark shadows, his expression sober. “I do.”

  “Will Signore be marrying us?” I asked.

  Drake smiled at me, his dark green eyes falling to my lips. “My precious treasure, isn’t that delightful? Your dearest Darkside friend will perform the ceremony. He also delivered the flowers. Such a useful and multi-faceted friend.” Drake’s voice was warm, low, so beautiful I couldn’t help but lean closer and closer with every word that fell from his perfect mouth.

  “The moment has come,” my mother said in her annoyingly mystical voice. Drake seemed completely immune to it. I squeezed his hand tightly and inhaled deeply. It smelled like candles, roses, and black cherry.

  We walked towards her and then turned sideways so she was on one side while Signore was on the other. Revere witnessed from his place beside the piano. I gazed at Drake while he held my hands, his eyes filled with dancing specks of neon green. My mother chanted while Signore started reading about the purpose of marriage and the importance of said marriage in quite medieval language. His words blended with my mother’s gibberish until I couldn’t make out anything other than my own heart pounding wildly beneath my
rib cage.

  When Drake’s phone buzzed, it broke the spell. My mother cursed colorfully while Signore scowled and Revere rolled his eyes.

  Drake shook his head, looking embarrassed, but it kept buzzing and then ringing and he finally pulled it out. “Sorry. This will only take a moment.” He stepped away, and muttered, “This had better be some serious nonsense,” and then he stopped moving, his body seeming to freeze up as he listened, his back turned towards me.

  “And those other accounts I asked you to watch?” His voice was already different, not irritated and excited but cold and businesslike. He could change so quickly. “Yes. I see. I’ll call you later.” He lowered his phone and took his time clicking off.

  He stood there facing the wall for a long time before he turned suddenly and walked over to me. “Do you mind if we have a word for a moment?”

  He took my wrist and dragged me out of the room without waiting for me to answer.

  “Drake, you don’t have to drag me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes brilliantly green but icy cold. “Do you mind? I hope so.” He continued dragging me up the stairs until we reached my room. He walked in and sent me stumbling in the direction of the fireplace while he started undressing.

  “What are you doing?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I believe the phrase is, ‘calling off the wedding.’ You see, it has been brought to my attention that you have no magic. You’re a very charming girl, but not wife material, not to Huntsman. If you had been upfront from the beginning, we could have avoided this unpleasantness. Such a waste of flowers.”

  I opened my mouth but no words came out.

  “Do you deny it? Do you have magic? A spoonful? A drop? No? No. You’re a girl with a great deal of energy passing herself off as a witch. I do enjoy a good deception. Well done. You almost caught me.” He tipped his top hat to me before taking Professor Cadaver off the brim and tucking him gently into his cage.

  “Why do you need a witch with magic?”

  “Power, genetics, the continuation of the glory that is Huntsman inc. It’s about business, Penny. I’m a businessman. My family is a business. That’s what you should understand about peers. Huntsman is about two things, magic, and money. Combined they equal power. Without either of those, we’re not the foremost family in Dayside.”

  I swallowed. “And that’s what you care about, being the most important family in Dayside?”

  He looked shocked. “You have attended Rosewood, haven’t you? Did you not notice the pressure to be the best? I am the finest peer you will ever meet, therefore the most materialistic, obsessed with power, glory, prestige, and money. I could overlook a lot of things, your family’s obvious lack of social and political standing, but I can’t elevate you to my level without the basic elements of money and magic.”

  “That’s what the accounts were? Something about my lack of magic? That makes no sense.”

  He studied me. “It was a business call that included that information. I’ll be blunt. Viney was overheard by one of my employees chatting with Zachary about your lack of magic. They’re very loyal to you, but I’m personally disappointed that they never felt the need to enlighten me about it. Apparently they’re more invested in you than in me. That’s an error on their part. Stoneburrow will pay for it in business.”

  I grabbed his sleeve. “Wait, you’re going to penalize Zach for not telling you about me? You can’t do that.”

  He cocked his head and pulled his shirt out of my grip. “You are mistaken. I can do whatever I like. I’m Flaming Drake Huntsman.”

  Things grew dark and strange then. I started laughing, the mage in front of me looking like a doll, a puppet that I could so easily break. He didn’t want me without magic.

  Drake frowned at me, his face so funny. “What’s wrong?”

  “You are so adorable. You think that I’m worthless because I’m Penny Macaroon Lane, the stupid little bonbon that can’t control herself much less someone else. You think that I’m too weak to be a threat. You dare to threaten my friends for being loyal. You thought it was cute when I needed your protection spell. It was cute, wasn’t it? The thing about protecting me, is that it keeps me from getting too angry. Do you know the first time my mother burned me so that I could learn to harness the flames? I don’t. I don’t remember a time she didn’t burn me. Have you ever been burned by Feris flames? It wouldn’t matter. You have resistance inside of you. Do you know what happens when you take all that pain, years and years of pain and stuff it inside of someone? Do you know what comes out? Do you want to see?”

  His eyes were worried, his hand reaching towards me, but it was too late.

  I moved, a rush of wind, a breeze of ash and threw him across the room, energy and anger mixed with that one thing. Pain. He crashed into a timber support and sparked green at impact so he didn’t break his spine. How nice for him. I ran through the air and dust, the ropes above me like magnets moving me as I spun, my hair a cloak around me. I landed on him, kicked his solar plexus, spun and smashed his knee all in a blur of ash, space, time melting away into nothing but pain.

  That’s how it felt when I let my Pitch come out.

  He finally moved, rolling to his side and taking a defensive stance. I crushed it, slipping inside with a whirl of death. He was slow, like lead melting in the sunshine, slow and heavy and I was the wind, I was pain, I was his pain. I kicked him back, into the enormous stone chimney. He hit his head and it bounced. He stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. Again.

  His voice was a rumble, an avalanche. “You’re Pitch! That’s why you chose Zach. He was already bound to you when you cut him to the bone.” He looked sick and it might not have been from the concussion.

  I’d cut Zach? Right. Pitch. Right. Drake was bleeding because I’d hurt him.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and dug my nails in, scraping deep in my skin, deep, deep until thick trails of blood plopped from my elbows to the floor. I stood there watching my blood make impressions in the dust until Drake grabbed my shoulders, my hair, my arms. I put my hands on his face and pulled the pain out of him. He didn’t need my pain, not like this. The room got fuzzy, but instead of falling down to the floor, Drake caught me, holding me close while he carried me far away.

  I woke up tied to my bed. I opened my eyes and Drake was sitting above me on the headboard between the two monkey skulls burning cheerfully. He wore the purple suit with gold striped shirt that he must have gotten from my life-size voodoo doll, Dandy.

  The dark purple top hat perched over his eyebrows at a rakish angle. I twisted my head to check the knots he’d put in the rope, but it wasn’t a rope and they weren’t any kind of knots I could recognize.

  “You tied me to my bed with my hair? Do you want to die?”

  He grinned widely. “We all die eventually. So, you’re Pitch. It’s a pity you didn’t kill me when you had the chance. I’m not going to be surprised a second time.”

  I tugged on my wrists but it hurt my head and the knots slid without giving me a clue to their direction. “I shouldn’t have healed you. You took advantage of me when I was unconscious. That’s not very gentlemanly.”

  He tipped his hat. “So glad you noticed. I didn’t ask you to take my pain. It’s one of my least favorite things about you, the way you wander around taking people’s pain without asking if they’re using it. I almost had a new scar on my head to add to my Penny Lane collection.”

  “What did you do to my hair? It takes forever to gets knots out.”

  He stepped down from the headboard, making the mattress sink along the left side where he walked until he stepped over my body, studying it with his eyes, gaze turned hungry. “It’s secured by magic. You and your hair aren’t going anywhere. You see, without magic, you are helpless until I’m done with you. If you’d stayed Pitch instead of healing me you’d be in control, but either I am your weakness, or your sense of compassion is. Now, Penny Lane, we are going to discuss this issue without a
ny delightful distractions. No fighting, just you tied to your bed in your ripped and bloody wedding dress.” He closed his eyes for a moment while his teeth pressed his bottom lip.

  “You look ridiculously good in purple. I should have dressed you in that for the wedding.”

  He cocked his head, eyes glinting dark. “You’ll have to find another mage to dress. I suppose you can make more bodies to hang in your attic if you can’t find the perfect mage. Why did you agree to marry me?”

  I stared at him. “I love you.”

  “Don’t distract me with irrelevancies. You aren’t the sort of creature who gets married or goes to school without a purpose behind it. Is it to break the curse?”

  I shrugged. I felt drained even though I didn’t seem to have any of the injuries I’d given him. Why didn’t I hurt? “Did you heal me?”

  “More irrelevancies. Can you not answer a question?”

  My heart pounded. He hadn’t left as soon as I’d lost consciousness. He was still here. Maybe I could convince him that Pitch was as valuable as magic. “I went to Rosewood to marry a peer so that I could fulfill the demands of my grandmama’s will. Otherwise, my mother will die.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why did your grandmama want you to get married so badly? By your eighteenth birthday?”

  I nodded. “I don’t know. She didn’t want me to end up with a mage like my mother’s first husband. She wanted to make sure I found a nice Daysider mage who wouldn’t eat me. Because I’m vulnerable. It’s true, I am not as strong or as invulnerable as a regular witch, but I have Pitch and pain. I can defeat anyone with magic. I’ve been able to defeat my mother since I was fourteen, and she’s the most terrifying assassin in Darkside. I know I get emotional and attached, I’m kind of needy and weak, but I can create things that no one else can imagine. I’m not completely worthless, Drake. I’d make you a good wife. I’d help with your business and whatever nonsense you needed.”