* * *
The next night,the four of us eat dinner in a lofty medieval hall, surrounded by tapestries of epic battles woven with gold thread. I don’t know where the Duke and Duchess or Cleo are and I don’t ask – they’re probably hanging upside down in a cave or sleeping in their coffins. Gabriel sits at one end of the table and I sit at the other. We fire peas at each other through our drinking straws.
“You can’t do that in here!” Eli hisses from his seat in the middle of the table. “What if you ruin one of the tapestries?”
Gabriel grins as he gestures to the figure of a farmer in the corner of the tapestry, holding a sickle and staring out at a blank square of spun thread. “Behold the field upon which I grow my fucks. Gaze upon it and see that it is barren.”
I laugh so much I snort a pea up my nose.
After dinner, Eli retreats to his room to call Livvie. He wants to check on the animals and see if she’ll give us any insight about Nero’s next movements. I’m nervous as fuck about him taking that job, and I don’t know if I trust Nero’s daughter, but I trust Eli. While he’s occupied, Gabriel invites me and Noah for a walk around the estate.
It’s freezing out, and our boots crunch on fresh-fallen snow. But the air is still and the sky a deep azure, and as we descend the lawn and look back at the castle, my chest flutters a little. In Gabriel’s world, it’s hard not to believe in fairy tales. If only the castle weren’t ruled by the evil king.
If only this place had a queen to set things right.
At the end of the lawn, we take a rambling path through the woods, emerging in a small clearing where a shimmering disc of water reflects the sky. In the center of the manmade pond is a small Romanesque building with wide steps leading to a portico with six slender columns, and a triangular pediment above featuring sculptures of the divine triad and seven planets.
“It’s a folly.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “The Victorians were mad about them. My great, great, great grandfather had it built to impress his friends. It’s modeled after—”
“—the temple to Bel at Palmyra,” I say, spying the distinctive Near-Eastern carvings over the pediment. “Although it looks as though your grandfather has replaced depictions of the god with himself.”
“But of course.” Even in the dim light, I catch the twinkle in Gabriel’s eye. “Didn’t you know we Blackwich men ARE gods?”
I roll my eyes. Noah snorts. He picks up a smooth stone and skips it across the water. “I used to think you had the perfect life. I even hated you a little bit. It’s actually a relief knowing your dad’s a complete bastard—”
“—wanker,” Gabriel corrects. “He’s a wanker. You’re on British soil now – speak the Queen’s English. And don’t worry about it. I hate myself a little bit, too.”
A thought occurs to me. “You know even if you became an earl—”
“—duke. I’d be a duke.” Gabriel gives an exasperated sigh. “You’re all such heathens.”
“—fine, if you became duke and took your inheritance, it doesn’t mean you have to give up the things you love. Your dad won’t be able to stop you from six feet under. You could be the rockstar duke. In fact, it might even help your career. Imagine running your own open-air festival out on the lawn. We could have VIP parties at this temple, turn it into a place of sin and debauchery.”
Gabriel moves to the edge of the lake and stares out across the crystal waters at something only he can see. “Sure, I could. But it feels too much like giving in to them. This place… it sucks all the life from you.”
I move beside him, my fingers twining in his. “It doesn’t have to.”
He throws his head back and howls – a wolf claiming his territory. It’s wild and beautiful and perfectly Gabriel. I think he’s starting to see that his father’s curse doesn’t have to be his own. I toss back my head and howl, too. Our cries pierce the silent night, sending a flock of birds loose from the trees.
“What’s back here?” Noah calls. I whirl around. He’s on the edge of the clearing, staring into the trees. Moonlight glints off a glass building hidden amongst the foliage.
“Oh, it’s my father’s arboretum – a fancy glasshouse with a laboratory attached. It’s one of his hobbies. He likes to combine different strains of plants and such. He won an award at the Chelsea Flower Show for a new color of tulip. Don’t ask him about it unless you want to be bored to death for five hours straight.”
“Noted.” As we turn back toward the path, a shadow steps in front of us, bearing down with cold menace. My fingers fly to my sleeve. I’ve already launched my knife as the figure lunges toward us and the solar light beside the path catches his features.
The duke yells as the blade catches him in the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Shit.
He slumps to the ground, grunting as his fingers slide over the hilt. I turn to Gabriel, sick with panic. He smirks, and I feel myself relax. I might’ve just knifed a duke, but he won’t send me to jail for it, not when it risks another scandal.
With a grunt, the duke yanks the knife from his arm. A spurt of blood arcs from the wound. He clamps his hand over it and glares up at us. A chill settles on my heart.
“I think that color looks good on you, Father.” Gabriel shoves his hands in his pockets and gives the duke a flashy grin. “Most festive for the Christmas season.”
“This is the last straw,” the Duke of Blackwich hisses at his son. “I summoned you here out of courtesy to the duchess, but I see now it was as fruitless as I predicted. You haven’t changed, and I won’t risk you bringing more dishonor to the Blackwich name. You’ve squandered your final chance. My offer is rescinded. I will have my legacy without your interference.”
Gabriel throws back his head and lets out another howl that collapses into a wild laugh. “Is that a threat, Your Grace? Go ahead, impregnate your viscountess. Make me a new brother in your image so I can corrupt him, too. My mother is better off without you. I have wealth enough of my own, I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. I’ll give her everything you’ve denied her. And then we’ll see who has the brighter legacy.”
