I shudder and tell her the truth. “I don’t know.”
She sniffles. “I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. I’m prepared to do it. Since he’s fae, I’ll require wedding vows that force him to love me and keep me for all of my days. He will not be allowed to abandon me. So long as our marriage vows keep him from casting me aside, even after I’ve made the sacrifice, then it will be done.”
Revulsion sends my stomach churning. Marriage vows. That’s what it will take to save Elliot’s life. In all my scheming and plotting, never had it occurred to me that marriage would become a factor. I was supposed to trick her into falling in love with Elliot, not marry him.
Once again, I should have known better. I should have seen this coming. Imogen may be petty but she’s desperate too. She isn’t the sappy lovelorn fool I first took her for. No, she isn’t like that at all. She’s more like…like me. A desperate survivor. Hardened by her own experiences, determined to get what she wants at any cost. I may despise her and the way she treats others, including myself, but for the first time since I’ve known her, we see eye to eye.
She’ll fight to get what she wants. Scheme, connive, and bargain her way to a better future. Even one where she loses a piece of herself to get there.
Unfortunately, so must I.
34
Ifeel empty as I walk Imogen back inside, and not another word is said between us, not even as we part ways at the ballroom doors.
We both carry the weight we must bear from this point on. She with the understanding of her impending sacrifice, and me with the news I must break to Elliot. News that makes my shoulders feel heavier with every step.
I’m grateful to find the ballroom has emptied out significantly since I was last here, telling me the festivities are coming to their much-needed end. What I don’t find, however, is Elliot, not even as the final song plays. He isn’t in the parlor, either, where a small group of guests recline and chat. Impatience flashes within me, bringing with it the sudden urge to shout at everyone to leave. I’m too exhausted, too drained to contemplate enduring this night even a moment longer.
Come to think of it, why should I? What reason do I have to continue this ruse, play the doting steward to these wretched people for one minute more? The ball has served its purpose—the trap has been set, the bait has been claimed, and there is but one way to go forward from here. A way that heats my blood and makes me want to scream.
I channel that rage into my outer persona and stroll into the parlor. “Our host, Mr. Rochester, thanks you all for coming, but the night has come to a close. The footman will see you out. Good evening.” I don’t wait to hear their complaints, to take in their bulging eyes and indignant protests. Instead, I make my way to the ballroom and relay the same message to every group of chatting stragglers. I’m relieved that Foxglove, Amelie, and Mr. Cordell seem to have already taken their leave, because I doubt I could find the grace within me to give them the kind goodbyes they deserve. Not with my vision blurring with red.
Lastly, I make my way to Imogen’s party. Mrs. Coleman taps her foot impatiently while my father pretends not to see me. Ember offers a kind smile while Clara slouches, mouth open in a bored yawn. Nina is nowhere to be seen, so she must have been escorted home by her fiancé.
Imogen scans the now-empty room, arms crossed. “I suppose this is goodnight, then.”
Father smirks. “What, no goodbye from your benevolent employer?”
I burn him with a glare, letting my anger seep into every word. “Mr. Rochester has retired early.”
“Here I thought he was a gentleman,” Mrs. Coleman says with a scoff. “He should at least have the decency to bid farewell to my daughter—”
Imogen tosses her mother a scowl almost as dark as mine. “Never mind that, Mother. He’ll have plenty to say to me when I next come to call.”
Mrs. Coleman’s mouth falls open. “You’re coming to call onhim? Should it not be the other way around?”
“Perhaps it should, but not all things go perfectly to plan, do they?” Imogen’s tone is sharp, bitter. “Worry not, though, Mother. Things will all work out in the end.” Her eyes meet mine for a moment, lids slitted as she purses her lips over things she cannot say. I told her the curse prevents Elliot from straying too far from the manor, and made her promise to keep everything I’ve told her tonight to herself. If she wants his proposal, she’ll have to come here to get it.
Another wave of rage burns inside me.
“Unconventional man indeed,” Mrs. Coleman mutters.
“I wouldn’t expect more from the fae,” Father says with a cold laugh.
Mrs. Coleman turns up her nose. “Come along then. No need to dawdle.”
They start off, but Ember lingers a moment longer. “Thank you for allowing me to play tonight. That was probably the most fun I’ve had in years.”
I smile but know it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I appreciate you providing music. You did my employer a great service tonight.”
She furrows her brow. “Are you all right?”
The concern in her eyes nearly undoes me, sends all my rage flooding to my toes and leaving sorrow in its place. All I can do is nod.
“Ember!” Imogen hisses, snapping her fingers for the girl to follow.
She looks like she wants to say more, but I’m glad she doesn’t. I can’t take another second of her sympathy. Not when tears are already forming behind my eyes. She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you again,” she whispers, then jogs to catch up with the rest of her party.
