As we walk back, I glance up at the ancient walls – walls designed to keep the castle’s occupants safe from enemies. Alaric and I have our walls, too. We wouldn’t have survived without them.
So much is still unanswered. There is no work for me in Argleton, the business I’ve poured all of myself into is back in London. And I’m still triggered by Alaric’s mess.
But with Alaric’s cool fingers laced in mine, London feels a million miles away.
Maybe we can pull our walls down together, and build something beautiful in their place?
Maybe this cold, impenetrable castle with its cold, impenetrable Lord could be my home?
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ALARIC
Perdita: I think what you’re doing is very brave. Foolish, but brave. Despite all the trouble our mothers’ arrangement has caused, I want you to be happy, Alaric. I just hope you know what you’re doing.
Ihum to myself as I add another layer of gesso to my painting.
She’s staying. She’s staying at Black Crag with me.
After we returned from the grotto, I tucked Winnie into bed. She needs all her strength before the ball tomorrow, but I’m too bursting with joy to have any hope of falling asleep beside her. She won’t need me to sing her through her nightmares for another hour or so yet, so I have come to my study to work on yet another attempt at a painting. This one is a work of cubism in the style of Marcel Duchamp, but it’s not going any better than the others?—
“Hello, Alaric.”
I tear myself from my easel. I find my mother in the chair opposite my desk, her dress streaked with her Thrall’s blood and a self-satisfied smirk playing across her lips. Mirabelle stomps alongthe desk, plonks herself down in front of the Lady of Agony and furiously cleans her behind as if to protest the malevolent woman usurping her chair.
I have no clue how long she’s been sitting there.
“I see you are hard at work on your pointless fancies, as always,” she says, reaching for the cat with a hungry glint in her eye.
“Art is never pointless.” I pick up Mirabelle and place her gently on my lap as I sit down. “What do you want?”
“I’ll keep this brief,” she says. “I’m leaving for Germany after the ball. Perdita has agreed to return with me. She will visit our court before returning to her home in Italy.”
“I’ve already told you that I’m not leaving Black Crag.”
She snorts. “Of course you aren’t. I do not wish you to accompany us.”
Her words hang heavy between us.
“Do you mean?—”
“Winnie has proven to me that though she is but a breakable human, she has the fire of a Valerian warrior in her veins. If all goes well at the ball, finding the killer and bringing him to justice will do more for my reputation than this marriage ever could. She was right about our law, too. I’m drafting a contraception amendment right now. It’s a genius political move. I am anxious to return to my castle and continue the work of building this alliance and putting down the stirring rebellion. Winifred is a worthy match for you, my son.”
“You mean?—”
“It’s been more than five centuries since I gave you the Kiss,” she says. “And still I have not learned that I cannot control you. I see that you have made your choice, and although Perdita is of the Blood Chastain and the match would be politically useful, I will not stand in the way of your happiness, Alaric. You have been unhappy for so long. I see now that many things in our world must change, so you will lead the way. I will bless the union between you and Winnie. And if our kin should have something to say of it, then they will fear the wrath of the Lady of Agony.”
She smiles then, a genuine smile, terrifying forits cold brutality.
“Thank you, Mother,” I say, with genuine warmth.
“I am excited to plan another extravagant ball.” She flashes me a chilling smile. “You may set a date. Sooner is preferred. It would be politically advantageous.”
My heart stutters. “We haven’t discussed a wedding?—”
My words die away as Callista removes an envelope from the folds of her dress, sealed with red wax and the Valerian family crest, and holds it out to me.
“Not your wedding, son. I refer, of course, to the date for Winnie’s Kiss. It took much convincing on a pre-sunrise Zoom call, but I have secured the permission of the Conclave.”
