The Transformation of Anna (Cornerstone Deep Book 1)

by Wilson, Charlene A.

  A pause in the conversation allowed Anna to wrap around the shapes again, but Clair’s whisper interrupted.

  “I’ve never seen the likes. Just look at her, lost to the world. Reg, that girl is the sweetest thing ever to join the household. But... Something’s not right with her. It’s like she’s not all there. I wonder how deeply she chose to forget her past. Not even recognizing her own reflection?”

  “Do you ever regret electing to forget, my little Clair?”

  “Only very few times. But, I had to want it or it wouldn’t stay hidden, isn’t that right? I always fall short of searching my mind for the hidden. I’m afraid now to know what it was like. I’m happy here, feel like I belong. We’re family and I wouldn’t change that one bit.”

  “And I’m glad.” Fabric rustled behind her, suggesting the two embraced. “A better friend I’ve never had in all my years of service to the sire.”

  “Another reason I don’t even try to remember.”

  A low sigh accompanied more fabric rustles, and Reg spoke. “It’s a good thing the sire has taken to her so. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him personal with an addition.”

  Humor tinted Clair’s quiet voice. “I know of at least six maids under this roof that are jealous beyond civil over it, too. I warned them to just keep their distance or they’d have us to deal with.”

  Reg’s deep chuckle tickled Anna’s ears. “The mention of scrapping with you would keep them away, my sweet Clair. Lord Dressen chose right when he assigned you as her personal aide.”

  “Ooh, well, she deserves looking after.” Clair stepped to Anna’s side and looked up at the stained-glass. “This is one of Lord Dressen’s favorite works. He had it commissioned. Talented artist. Filled it to his specification. Isn’t it lovely?”

  Anna nodded and ran her fingers over the lead that held the intricate shapes together. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Well, if you like this, you’ll love what’s down the hall. It’s like a cathedral.”

  She reluctantly pulled her gaze away to face her guide. Little eyes sparkled back at her like shiny gems beneath the ceiling’s many pin lights.

  Motioning down the hall, Clair took Anna’s hand and led the way. “I wanted to show it to you yesterday, but other duties got in the way. It took months to renovate. Don’t know how he got the people to part with the items. They’ve been kept by the Arylin Colony in the Northern Territory. The only one of its kind. But he got them. He does have his ways.” She winked. “I told you that you were a special one. He said that the woman that filled this post would enjoy it more than any other room in the house.”

  Clair turned on the light as they entered. A soft glow haloed the laurel sconces at the center of each gold-trimmed panel lining the walls. Positioned beneath the illuminations, six red velvet divans sat, matching the wide runner that covered the marble floor and led to the end of the room. Amber pillars with deep golden veins stood in the far corners and flanked an ivory statue at center stage. Beams poured from the spotlights in the base, highlighting the eight-foot-tall being, and reflecting off the wall mirror behind it. An ivory-laced prie-dieu humbly sat before the pedestal.

  “He’s having stained-glass screens made. It will give you more privacy when you worship.”

  Blood drained from Anna’s face as she gazed at the Goddess of Love. The gentle eyes beckoned her from a smooth alabaster visage. Long waves flowed, crowned with a brow band that fanned along the sides of her head. Her arms seem to lift in welcome, her silk robes furling at her sides and down her slender body to brush the plinth.

  Time locked in a surreal moment. Anna’s feet moved, carrying her down the long carpet that lead to her goddess. Her heart raced and supplication bloomed across her nerves.

  She broke into a run.

  Throwing herself onto the stand, she grasped at the white flowing robe. She scrambled up the length of Arylin’s body and reached for the angelic face. Her fingertips merely brushed along the mane of intricate feathers that adorned her shoulders.

  Clair’s little shoes tip-tapped toward her until the runner muffled the sound. “Oh, Anna, dear. This is only a statue of Arylin.”

  Anna gazed high in adoration. “My goddess.”

  Distorted thoughts fluxed through her mind, distant chants, familiar song, then gone. Heat bore into her temples with each ebb, sending pulses down her jaw to circle her neck and chest. Invisible cords snaked through her torso, wrapping tightly around her lungs and abdomen. Tiny spars spangled along the threads singeing her core. She knotted a fist to her bosom as a wail rattled deep in her chest.

  Shock squelched from Clair’s voice. “Anna!”

  Anna clawed at the bodice of her gown, desperate to reveal the binds that burned her soul. Dropping to her knees, strained whispers passed her lips.

  “Arylin, Goddess of Love,

  grace forsake me not.

  Guile and torment take my heart,

  cast me not this fate.

  Holy be thy name.

  Holy be thy name!”

  “Reg! Reg, come quick!” Clair brushed Anna’s strewn hair from her face and tried to inch the gown back around her body. “It’s okay, love. It’s all going to be okay.” She gently grasped Anna’s arms, tugging her away from the goddess as tremors rode her words. “We can visit another time. All of this seems a bit much for you.”

  Anna lunged for the Arylin’s legs, hooking her fingers around the stony folds.

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  The deep voice echoed through the room and penetrated Anna’s heart. She threw her gaze to the entrance, and her jaw dropped in awe as Lord Dressen strode in her direction. Pain melted in a heated wash. Her hands dropped from the rock. His dark eyes flashed, heavy brows dipped low, and they were the most majestic things she’d ever seen. Fears disappeared.

  “She just went off, sire. Beats all I’ve seen. She screamed and started reciting...a prayer, I think.”

  Lord Dressen eased to sit on the platform and then gently framed her face. “Anna,” he said softly.

  She rested her cheek in his large palm and a shaky sigh relieved her lungs. Pangs spangled through her veins, but she didn’t care. His touch, his being, caressed her soul with comfort.

  Lord Dressen’s hands slowly dropped and wrapped around hers. “Come with me.”

  Gazes locked, he guided her to stand and then led the way out of the room and into the hall. Each backward step, she matched in forward motion. He leaned his head. She leaned hers. They followed the long trail, passing the stained-glass window wall. Servants paused on the steps and quietly watched.

  Dressen brushed the disheveled hair from Anna’s face. “The shrine was meant as a gift, Anna. I know how you adore your goddess.” His gaze dropped to the torn dress and gashes in her skin. “I didn’t expect you to hurt yourself during worship.”

  Anna looked down at the bared proof of her actions.

  “Never do that again. I won’t see you hurt.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, tucked it in her palm, and then gently pressed it to her wounds. Her limp grip held it there.

  Pushing open her bedroom door, he led her inside and then nudged it shut. He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I’ve wanted you longer than life, it seems.” He lightly kissed her lips, and Anna leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. Keep you mine. Tell me you love me, Anna. Tell me the spells were unnecessary. That you wanted me all along.”

  “I love you. The spells were unnecessary. I wanted you all along.”

  Her keeper smiled. “Perhaps total compliance was uncalled for then.” He pulled her close, the rumpled fabric of her bodice falling aside. Running his fingers through her hair, he looked deep into her eyes.

  Her heart thumped hard, and her breath hitched.

  “You’ll enjoy the life I offer. I can give you anything you desire.” He nodded toward the hall. “I wanted the sanctuary to be a place for you to find peace. But it looks like I was mi
staken.”

  His brows rose, and Anna upped her own, basking in the loving expression. “Would you like an art studio? You could continue creating.” He took her hands in his. “The hands of an artist, a creator of beauty.” He held them to his chest and placed her thumbs and fingers together. “In more ways than one.”

  Anna’s lips parted as she stared at the symbol created. Primal heat swirled in her core and faint promises floated just out of her understanding.

  He looked at her sideways and cocked a grin. “The symbol arouses you, doesn’t it, Anna? What does it mean? Did the wizards instill an added gift with the bid? They know, don’t they? They have to, considering my requirements.”

  He brushed the lining from her shoulders and kissed along her collar. Shivers traveled down to her bosom. “I couldn’t be happier. I couldn’t find satisfaction in anything more.”

  The warm breath and light touch lifted her to float with the clouds. She wilted, head lulling to the side as a soft cry blew past her lips.

  “You are the best thing I’ve ever afforded myself.” He led his lips up to her neck. “The greatest prize I could have won.”

  Cole glared at the old mantle clock above the hearth. Anticipation had long turned into vexation. Just over twelve hours left to begin his ploy. The only thing worse than causing harm, was waiting for the right time to correct it.

  The quiet study seemed irritatingly unbiased, as the second hand on the timer didn’t even make a sound. He watched the tip slowly move around the circumference, eclipsing the tiny nocks one by one.

  Line. No line. Line. No line. Line. No line.

  His exasperation exploded. Shooting his hand toward the thing, a statuette charged from the bookshelf and pierced the face of the timekeeper. He threw his disgruntled gaze to the door, immediately angry with himself for imitating Vincent’s destructive temper.

  “James!”

  Wait. I bet he’s still in bed. He glanced back at the clock to check the time and then scoffed at his stupidity. The damn thing was broke, its hands scrambled and bent, glass shattered with a miniature rendition of the Meridian capitol tower poking out at an odd angle. He dragged his hand across his chin and slumped in his master’s chair.

  “What are you doing up already?”

  Cole’s nerves jumped at the sudden voice. “I hate it when you do that.”

  James chuckled. “You called me.”

  “I didn’t realize the time before I did.” He motioned to the clock. “You wouldn’t mind fixing that, would you?”

  Stepping to the desk, James set a plate of cake down for him and another for himself. “Taking on Father Time?” He flicked his finger and the figurine returned to the bookshelf. Hands straightened and glass reassembled with tiny clatters and clinks. He sat in a chair and forked at his snack. “Eat the cake. Elaina’s family barely touched it. We have enough to last a year.”

  “Did you bring butter?”

  “You want butter on a cake?”

  “I’ll eat butter on anything.” He reached for his portion.

  “No butter.”

  “How about sweet cream?”

  “Just eat the cake.”

  Cole shoveled a bite into his mouth. “What are you doing up so early?”

  James leaned his elbows on his knees. “Haven’t been to bed. Well, I’ve been to bed. But my room’s right under the—newlywed’s suite.”

  “They’re not married yet.”

  “Close enough. With her father’s total acceptance, the family promising sealed it.”

  Cole scoffed. “Eager to move up in the social ranks, isn’t he? I felt his every fiber shout yes when Mr. Ballard explained it.”

  “He does have a way of playing the cards. Well, he earns his pay.”

  “So, they’re still celebrating up there?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” James grinned and eyed him. “You’ve been in here all night again, haven’t you?”

  “Can’t sleep. Don’t want to sleep.” He sent a bitter look at James. “I don’t need to relive what happened.”

  “If you don’t get some rest you’ll be a wreck by the time we get Anna here.”

  Cole smoothed his hand over his head and sighed. He knew his brother was right. He’d thought of little else; calculating, converging spells in theory, attempting to accomplish an acceptable outcome. Truth of the matter, every combination, spell or potion, promised a crippling or deadly outcome…except one. And that depended on what Anna had learned in her past lives. The procedure included such an array of interconnecting circumstances that even with his formidable knowledge of enchantment, he was left with nothing but doubt.

  He set his fork on the plate with a clink unable to stomach food. “Tell me she’ll be okay, James.”

  “I wish I could, brother.” He motioned to the Utopian. “I don’t know if you’ve checked, but I looked into her past. It’s filled with loss. Mother disappeared shortly after giving birth. Father was a street sweep. Impoverished, hopping from one shelter to another on Beggar’s Row East. He passed away when she was seventeen. She managed to get a job with Cantrell a couple years ago, as an artist.”

  Cole looked at him, a small grin lighting his lips. “An artist.”

  “She built a bit of a name for herself.” James glanced at Cole. “Mostly through Dressen’s favor of her work, it seems. Mr. Cantrell bragged about all the sales he made to him. Said he was a regular, requesting her as the artisan.”

  A scoff passed Cole’s lips. “Gods, I hope she didn’t decorate his foyer.”

  “She specialized in stained-glass.”

  He closed his eyes as he recalled the view of her at the mansion. “She was staring at that big stained-glass window.” His comment drifted quietly as the innocence of her countenance sketched across his mind. “She seemed mesmerized by it. At peace.” He let out a heavy breath and looked at James. “So, you’re telling me she’s experienced hardship and loss up until Dressen started to take notice.”

  James nodded. “And now we plan to bring that all back to her.”

  “We’re going beyond that, James. Memories of one lifetime are only a small portion of what comprises a soul.” He ran his fingers across his weary brow. “If this lifetime brought her loss and pain, what about the others?”

  Setting his plate on the desk, James clasped his hands. “These experiences may have made her strong. She obviously took a stand against Dressen’s attentions. Her lifetimes may have ingrained self-preservation.” He leaned his head to the side. “Either way, when she regains her memory, her will, and then we set free her ability to understand it all, she’s going to go through a lot of pain. She’ll relive her losses, at least from this life. It won’t be easy.”

  Cole tossed his head to the side. Experiencing them through dreams was bad enough, but to force her to suffer through them in reality…

  James seemed hesitant to say anything further. “Well, we’ll be here for you. You have our support.”

  The comment should have imparted comfort but fell short in its intent. The supportive stand of his brothers meant more than Cole could relay with words, and he wished James had developed the intuitive reading of emotions to help him out with this at times.

  He nodded, attempting to push aside the thought of the procedure and look at the plan as a whole.

  First things first. Get Anna out from under a Grand Marshal’s keep.

  Stained-glass that adorned Dressen’s door like a headdress glowed softly as Cole led the way up the bobble-lit path. The spirit of celebration was underway as they entered; several couples lingered in the large foyer, glasses of cordial in hand.

  Elaina’s emotions displayed pure awe, and though Cole had only one purpose for being there, he smiled to himself. Mianna’s elation had been the same at her first high social. She was every bit as elegant as the Ladies of Nobility.

  Then, carriages of silver and pearl, pulled with high-stepping stallions, delivered the elite to such functions, and he was sure to prearrange the be
st for her delight. Her burgundy gown had taken over half the seating. His father mumbled under his breath at the tight quarters, but Cole noticed the small glances he made in her direction. The senior Sentinel was pleased with her appearance and later asked for her hand several times in dance.

  Cole understood his brother’s desire to have his love attend. Elaina was every bit as beautiful in her own right. The pride poured from Vincent at having her on his arm, just as is surely as it had poured from him so long ago.

  Reg welcomed them in and helped Elaina remove her shawl.

  Glancing around the grand foyer, Cole couldn’t help notice the change in atmosphere. The screen of gaudy crystals that draped the wall to the left illuminated the dimmed hall with soft light and reflected in the onyx pillars at its side. They created an enchanted atmosphere of welcome and delicate finery. The bronze hair lines on the opposing panel emitted a deep glow, revealing the form of a tree not noticeable under the usual bright glare of the domed ceiling.

  Cole held up his hand as the manservant came to accept his wrap. “We’ll keep ours.” As the man left, he sent his thoughts to his brothers. “I’ll take care of things as quickly as possible and we’ll leave.”

  Vincent glanced at Elaina but nodded and followed him into the guest hall.

  A graceful dance occupied the floor, moving to the strings of a mellow quartet. Every member of the Grand Marshal’s court seemed in attendance, accompanied by ladies of status.

  Elaina held to Vincent’s arm as he led her past several of the more gossipy gatherings. Gazes followed the couple.

  She was a stunning companion. The gown he’d gifted her clung to all the right curves, and with her graceful movements, no one would have guessed her a daughter of a lower class. Cole was pleased with the added attention on them. Fewer on his dealings.

  He scanned the spacious hall. Laurel garland accented the caissons in the ceiling, symbolic of victory and position. Drapes of silver silk adorned the banisters of the second level, leaving trails of weaved fringe to sway in the breeze of the open terrace doors. Tri-paneled privacy screens stood at the sides of the musician’s huddle. Lights glowed behind them, bringing to life the intricate stained-glass designs.