by Marnie Cate
“You must,” she insisted. She was trembling now.
“Fine. I will tell Snowystra I will never submit, and I will accept the death she offers. It has to be faster than the torture I expect from having to be married to Roger,” I said with no emotion.
“You have an opportunity to have a life. A life with a respectable man who will care for you,” she said.
“Your respectable Roger would have me in his bed tonight if —” I stopped. She mustn't know about him.
“If what?”
“If a bird hadn't crashed into his window,” I quickly lied.
My mother's face flashed anger before she quickly recovered. She effortlessly resumed the guise of the caring mother. “Blanche, I will come up with something. I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused you. I would…”
“You would do nothing. Your brave face is an act. I will save us mother. You just need to listen to what I want and I say from now on.”
“Or,” she glared.
“I will personally deliver you to Snowystra. She seems like she'd appreciate a person who would sacrifice her own mother to save herself. You should know this by now. Go, Mother. I need rest. Your future son-in-law will be joining us for lunch tomorrow.”
Her eyes had filled with tears, which she quickly blinked away. “Goodnight, Blanche.”
When the door clicked shut, I threw myself onto my bed and began to cry. Is this who I would have to become? How could I marry someone I didn't love? How could I give away my child? Maybe my flippant comment was right and death would be easier?
Chapter 3
I woke to a soft tapping on the window. It was Jameson. He motioned for me to come outside. I wiped the sand from my eyes and opened the window.
“I can wait if you want to change,” he said.
Embarrassed I had fallen asleep in my evening gown, I grabbed the first sweater I found in my wardrobe and threw it on over my clothes. The emerald material against the crimson dress gave me the ridiculous appearance of being a tree with a festive skirt.
“I don't mind waiting for you to change,” he smirked.
“We aren't going anywhere, are we?”
Shaking his head, he gave me a brilliant smile.
“I am glad you came. I have more questions.”
“I told you I would, and I will always keep my promises to you,” Jameson said. Our eyes locked. With just a look, I felt like his words would always be true.
“Will you answer my questions honestly?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Tell me why she wants my child?”
Jameson took a breath as if he had been dreading this conversation
“The truth,” I said, narrowing my eyes. My, my, wasn't I turning into the forceful Camille Drygen overnight.
When Jameson didn't speak, I pressed him. “Jameson, please tell me something useful. If you won't answer my question, at least tell me the truth about why you are here? Why you are watching me?”
“Come sit,” he said, pointing to a cast iron bench.
I reluctantly obeyed. He took the seat next to me and he leaned in close. My heart began to beat faster. Suddenly, the air around us filled with white particles.
In a voice so low it couldn't even be called a whisper, he said, “Amaro.”
“Amaro?”
“No,” he said, covering my mouth with his hand. “Never say his name. The barrier will hold for only a moment. We must be quick.”
I nodded my understanding, and he removed his hand.
Scooting even closer, he said, “He has decided your family is the key to his power. He tricked Snowystra into giving your mother her powers. He did not know Danu was aware of her return and had directed the Silver girl to bind Camille's magic. If Camille's magic had not been bound, she would have produced the magical children he wanted.”
“He wanted?” I whispered.
“He believes the offspring of a mortal blessed by two goddesses would be an ideal mate. Your mother's betrayal has gifted you with the magic he seeks.”
Fear filled me. “Why am I marrying Roger then?”
“Snowystra doesn't know his plans. She believes your child will be the answer to restoring her magic to full power. Her current plan is failing. You must have a child. One with the magic of the Elements and Winter.”
“They are both mistaken. I have no magic.”
The white particles containing us grew thicker. Jameson grabbed my hand and I felt a jolt of electricity flow through me. I had once seen this white powder when I was a small child. It was snow. Something inside me felt different. My body was responding to this place.
The thick snowstorm faded, and I found myself standing in a thick snow-covered forest. “Where are we?” I asked, twirling with my arms spread out.
“We are on the edge of Snowstrum,” he said, clasping my wrist. “We have only a little time here. Come with me.”
Jameson led us through the thick tree line and stopped at a sizeable pine tree. Sticking his hand through the trunk, he began to walk through it. I stopped.
“You will be safe I promise,” Jameson said, coaxing me to follow him.
Bu dum bu dum sounded as I stepped into the darkness. My pulse fell into beat with the sound I could only describe as a heartbeat. We walked in the black void silently. The sound stopped and a gust of cold air hit me as we entered a cave.
Long threads strung wall-to-wall across the room creating a web. In the center, an enormous green and silver spider busily worked without acknowledging our presence. Instead, the creature used its long silver-pointed legs to tug and pull thread. It worked frantically as if it was covering something. I shifted closer to Jameson, afraid to make any sudden movements.
“She will not hurt you. She has laid her eggs and she is covering them now,” he soothed.
“Can we leave? I am scared.” I begged.
“Blanche, trust me. You are safe here with me,” he said. Placing his hand on my stomach, he added, “You have Winter and Elemental Fire magic pulsing through you. You will need to reach for it. It is deep inside you waiting to be unlocked. Now, close your eyes and focus deeply on your gifts.”
Our eyes locked. His intense stare made me believe. Closing my eyes, I imagined a small flame growing inside me. The harder I thought about it, the stronger the heat inside me grew.
“Are you still going to tell me you don't have magic?” Jameson asked, shaking my concentration.
I glared at him. “I haven't done anything yet.”
Taking my elbows, he lifted my hands in front of me. Both were filled with wet looking drops of fire. I gasped in amazement. I created liquid fire! Rubbing my hands together, I extinguished the flames and smiled at him.
“Do you feel the Winter magic inside you? I sense it is aching to come out. This time, he put his hand on my chest.”It is your strongest gift. It is deep inside you and wants to break out."
Images of snow and wind filled me. My lips felt burnt as if an icy breeze was licking at them. I didn't need Jameson to tell me to look at my hands this time. I knew the orbs were there. Two perfect spheres, each swirling with the power of Snowystra's magic.
I threw back my head and laughed. The delight I felt in this moment was immeasurable. “My mother will be pleased. She said our magic was gone.”
“No, you can never tell her, Blanche. Snowystra must never know how strong your gifts are. She believes you have none. She was told your power is bound, but she believes your child holds the key to releasing it.”
“Why did you tell me about my magic to just take it from me?”
Jameson touched my cheek so tenderly.
Why did I feel like I knew him? There was something so familiar about him.
“Sweet Blanche, I only want to arm you with the knowledge you need.” With the same soft touch, he kissed me. I felt the electricity of my magic and his touch. It was as if our magic was dancing. He wrapped his arms around me and murmured in my ear, “I have longed to kiss you for many year
s.”
This wasn't fair. I was in the arms of a strong, handsome man who I could easily fall madly in love with. His arms were reminders of the life I would never have.
“Why are you torturing me?” I asked, pushing him away. “Is this a game? Why do you say such sweet words and kiss me like you will always be mine?”
“You're right. I was impulsive and let the moment takeover. We must return you to your home. It will almost be lunchtime by now.”
How quickly he turned cold. Trembling, I fought back the tears building inside me. You are a Drygen. You are stronger than this, I scolded myself. “What do you mean it's almost lunchtime? We've only been here for half an hour or so.”
“Which is close to twelve in your world.” He hesitated before taking my hand. Once he did, he transported me from the winter wonderland of hopes to the cold reality of my future.
* * *
Jameson did not lie about the time. When I returned to my bedroom, I was greeted by my mother, who was frantically pacing.
“Where have you been, and for the love of the Goddess, what are you wearing? Wait, don't tell me. I do not want to know what you were doing or who you were with. While you have been sneaking off, Roger has been waiting for thirty minutes. Are you trying to sabotage our plans?”
Stripping off my clothes and throwing them on the floor, I casually replied. “I need to shower, Mother. Go entertain Roger, and tell him I will be down in a moment. Make him a scotch on the rocks and tell him I am sending my love while we are apart.”
“Blanche, you are incorrigible. Why would you risk upsetting him? If he hears you have been sneaking off with some boy, he will —”
“You are keeping Roger waiting, Mother. Don't worry. I have done nothing to disgrace you or to ruin the stellar Drygen reputation.”
Before she could reply, I strolled into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Letting the shower rain down on me, I let myself take in what had happened tonight. Focusing on my so-called gift, I tried to recall fire. Nothing happened. Not a spark. Not a feeling. Nothing. Had I dreamed it all?
* * *
“Roger, I am so sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, using a sugary sweet voice. “I hope Mother apologized for my delay.” Twirling coquettishly, I added, “I hope it was worth the small amount of time you had to wait.”
Admiring me in my red silk blouse and black pencil skirt, he said, “Once again, you are a treat for my eyes.” Lifting my hand to his mouth, he kissed it gently as my mother looked on.
“You do make a girl blush, Roger.” Entwining my fingers with his, I led him to the dining room table. “Have a seat. I know the cook has prepared something delicious for you. I believe you once told me you loved barbeque chicken?”
“I did,” he said, excitedly. “With rosemary potatoes and brussell sprouts.”
My mother nodded, confirming our pending meal.
“Well, you are in luck,” I said.
As if on cue, the staff brought out platters of his ideal lunch and set it before us.
Taking a bite of the crisp chicken, he moaned, “It is as if you found my mother's recipe. How did you know?” Roger greedily dived into his meal, only taking the time to comment on how delicious everything tasted. As he finished his last bite, he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and threw it down on the plate. “That was superb.”
My mother cringed at his boisterous behavior, but maintained her composure. “We are glad you enjoyed it. We should move our conversation to my office. It will be more comfortable there to discuss business.”
“I was hoping Blanche would give me a tour of my new home before we talked about our merger,” Roger said as we were leaving the dining room.
“You want to live here?” I asked.
“Of course, I couldn't move you from a mansion to a simple home in town. When we spoke, your mother agreed it made the most sense.”
“We have such a large home. I would hate to be alone here. I expect, in time, you will be filling it with my grandchildren,” my mother said.
“That is the plan.” Roger chuckled, putting his arm around my waist.
I shot my mother a murderous look, which I quickly covered. “Of course. This really does make the most sense. The west wing will be perfect for us to start our life together. We will need to remodel, but it will be such fun.”
My mother's jaw clenched. The west wing had been my brothers' rooms. There was no real reason to keep a shrine, except for her guilt. Her failure to believe Snowystra's threats led to their death. But, the rooms were just rooms full of items no one would ever use again, and my brothers didn't need them now. The dead never returned for their things.
“Why don't we start there? Mother, I am sure you have plenty to do while I show Roger our magnificent home,” I said.
* * *
As I led him through the corridors, the mansion never felt so large. Roger didn't hide his excitement in touring his future home. I could almost hear him calculating exactly how big of a prize he had won.
Woman half my age to show off, check.
Mansion paid for by the family, check.
Businesses to enhance my own, check.
We stopped at paintings and sculptures. Each one he would pick up and examine, guessing at their values.
“This must be worth thousands,” he said, rolling one of the crystal vases in his hands.
Taking it from him, I gently set it down. “This particular piece was purchased for fifty-two thousand dollars by my grandfather. It was a gift to his third wife, my grandmother.”
“Oh, I didn't —” he said nervously.
“You wouldn't know.” I smiled sweetly to mask my irritation. “Are you sure we should live here and not in your home? The mansion can be a cold, lonely place to live.”
If only, I could convince him not to live here. I would have a place to escape, too. I would not feel so trapped. The thoughts of the marriage were like solid walls closing in on me.
“We will bring life to this old place. If we try it and you think we should move, we will.” Despite my nod of agreement, he must have read the apprehension in my eyes. “We truly will have a wonderful marriage, Blanche. We will just need to get to know each other better,” he said kindly, kissing me on the cheek. “Now, if I promise to be a good boy and not touch anything else, will you continue our tour?”
I couldn't help but smile at his response. “I can promise you none of my family collections will be found in the west wing. My brothers could be like stampeding bulls at times.”
I opened the double doors to the wing and propped them open. Ghosts of my past flooded me as my brothers' boisterous laughter rang in my mind. The youngest of my older brothers, Paul, had the loudest and most contagious laugh. He would always have a quick joke or an impersonation to have us in stitches. Of my four brothers, Paul and I were the closest. Tears welled in my eyes from the unanticipated sentiment filling me, and suddenly, I felt dizzy.
Roger gently clutched my forearm, steadying me. “Is this the first time you have been here since the accident?”
I nodded.
He guided me to the first room. When he had me seated, he found a glass and filled it with water. “Sip on this.”
Kneeling next to me, he squeezed my hand. I allowed myself to relax and forced away the sad memories. After a few minutes of silence, I realized I wanted a connection with this man. How could this buffoon of a man have a calming touch? I wondered.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Roger's brown eyes were filled with such concern. His words broke the magic of the moment.
You are a Drygen. We do not wallow in sentiment. You are allowing this man to see you for the weak child you really are, I scolded myself. “I'm fine,” I said, yanking my hand out of his. “This area has been locked up for months. I will have words with the staff about the excessive dust. They shouldn't have neglected it.”
“Blanche, I could sense your grief. You can let down your guard around me.”
Roger's change in behavior surprised me. For a moment, I considered the possibility I could end up caring for him. At times, he had seemed genuine and sensitive.
And he is marrying you for your money. Don't be stupid, Blanche. He is luring you into his confidence. “This will be one of the nurseries,” I said, coldly. “There is nothing to feel sad about. People die all the time. It is part of the life process, and my brothers were careless.”
My lies hurt as an image of my sweet brother, Paul, flashed in front of me. I did remember each of my brothers every day, and missed them still.
Straightening up, Roger said, “This will be a fine nursery. Now, I would like to see the master suite.”
Brad's room had been the largest. As the oldest brother, he always had the biggest and best. Roger walked around the room inspecting it as if he were considering the possibilities. “There is much to be done here before I move in. These walls need to be removed, creating a true master suite. Also, this carpet must go. I prefer hardwood floors. I will have new furniture commissioned, also. This seems outdated.” Roger's tone had changed from the caring, sweet suitor to a cold business man.
“The furniture is antique and quite valuable,” I snapped
“Then your mother will have no problem finding a place to store it. Maybe we should open a museum in honor of the Drygen legacy to show off your family's great success.” His words were cold and cruel.
I had caused his change in attitude. I needed to fix it. Too much was invested for me to ruin it. “Whatever you would like, Roger. We will make whatever changes you want to convert this place into our home,” I promised with a smile.
“Our home,” he said, taking my hand. His hard demeanor had melted. “If there is anything you think we should keep, we can.”
“No, you are right. We need new things for our new life.”
I could not live in the shadows of my past. My path had been chosen and it was my job to make sure I didn't end up destroying myself in the process.