I extend a hand towards Alaric’s mother. “Call me Winnie, please. I’m so happy to meet you. Alaric’s told me so much about you.”
A lie. Alaric has told me absolutelynothingabout this terrifying woman. And it’s probably for the best, because I might’ve run away from Black Crag and never come back.
Alaric’s mother regards me with cold revulsion. Her lips curl back into a snarl. “Her?Alaric, you cannot be serious. I know you enjoy flouting our laws, but this is too low, even for you. Obviously, you cannot marry her.”
Rude!
“I have prepared drinks in the sitting room.” Reginald appears beside the shelves of teddy bears. “Follow me.”
Alaric flashes Reginald a grateful half-smile. “Let us have drinks and we can discuss the details. Winnie, you may join us if you wish, or wait for me in your chambers. I won’t be long.”
“I’d love a drink.”
“But weren’t you saying how sleepy you were?” His eyes beg me.
“I’ve found a second wind.” I smile. I know that Alaric’s trying to get me away from them so he can do damage control, but he doesn’t get to make all the rules in this fake-engagement. Plus, if I’m being honest, I’m enjoying seeing him squirm.
“It should join us,” Callista sniffs. “Perhaps it can explain to us how this absurd relationship even began. Our Thralls will bring in our things.”
She’s calling me ‘it’. Excuse me?
I can see why Alaric isn’t thrilled about her visit.
Two men in their early twenties with bloodshot eyes and dopey smiles on their faces appear in the doorway, carrying between them a long crate, which they start manoeuvring up the stairs.
“Follow me.” Reginald trots off in the direction of the sitting room. The two ladies float gracefully after him, their dresses kicking up clouds of dust as they sweep over the flagstones. I can practically hear the disdain dripping from Callista as she silently regards the gaps on the walls and the piles of Alaric’sprojects everywhere.
“I think it would be best if I found lodgings for you and Perdita somewhere else,” Alaric says stiffly as he trails behind them into the room. “Winnie and I have been working on preparing rooms for you, Mother, but since you are early, we haven’t quite?—”
“Nonsense. I will not be removed from the castle, no matter the state it’s in.”
“I think Black Crag is lovely,” Perdita says in a breathy, sultry voice. “It’s very … traditional.”
“As you’ll learn, my dear, our family believes in keeping up the rituals and customs of our society.” Callista fixes her son with a withering glare. “At least,someof us do.”
“Please, do not worry – the Chastain clan have our traditionalists, too.” Perdita flutters her impossibly-long eyelashes in Alaric’s direction. “Personally, I enjoy life with a little bit of spice.”
I’m sure you do.
Alaric’s grip on my arm is a vice as he drags me into the sitting room. Reginald has uncorked two bottles – a red and a white – and placed them beside four glittering silver goblets on the table. He’s fussing with the fireplace, trying to get the kindling to catch.
“Leave us, Reginald,” Callista waves her hand. “We do not require the fire.”
I rub the goosebumps on my arms.How is she not freezing her tits off in that thin silk dress?
“My betrothed needs it,” Alaric says firmly. “Reginald, please finish the fire. I shall pour the drinks.”
Alaric lifts the red wine and pours three glasses. I notice that the label is one of those strange old bottles in the temperature-controlled sleeves that I saw in his cellar. He reaches for the white.
“Actually, I fancy the red,” I say. Alaric shakes his head softly as he hands me a glass of white. Perdita giggles as if I’ve said something hilarious.
“Trust me,” he whispers, his breath rushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. I nod, accepting the glass.I’ll trust him … for now.
Behind him, Callista shakes her head,her eyes venomous.
Alaric takes my hand and moves us to stand in front of the fire, our backs to the flames. Callista flicks her gaze to me with disinterest, as if I’m a bug she is hoping Reginald will notice and squash without her having to think about me again. I inch myself closer to Alaric.
Perdita circles the room, her long fingers stroking the stem of her glass. Her nails are blood red and shaped to vicious points.
