“Who’s Lady Christine?”
“The first person I dared to share my secret with,” I say. “Before we lived in Greenhollow, we lived in Kettings for a year. Lady Christine was Father’s patroness there and introduced him to a plethora of elite clientele. I was thirteen then, and Father thought I should stop spending so much time using my magic to aid his paintings and start learning to be a lady. So he left me with Lady Christine during his painting sessions. I was to learn etiquette from her. At first, I hated it. Hated her. But soon I developed a fondness for the old widow. Enough that I shared the truth of my magic with her.”
I take another sip of tea, but I hardly taste it. “I was surprised when she reacted so favorably to hearing about my powers. She was amused by my strange gift and soon made a game of it. She’d invite guests for tea. Guests whom she was eager to learn more about, especially those embroiled in scandal or who were the source of the latest gossip. Depending on what she wanted to learn about her guests, she’d have me shift my mood to make either a positive or negative impression. I was so pleased by Lady Christine’s attention that I dutifully went along with it. But she began to change. She grew paranoid that I’d tell others about her secret, about our game, meanwhile growing resentful over the fact that she couldn’t see my true face but I could see hers. She hated that I knew her best qualities—that she was haughty, self-assured, and ruthless. It enraged her to know everything she saw in me was only a reflection of the best in her. I suppose she found her reflection lacking. After a while, she refused my visits. Then she withdrew her support of my father entirely. Rumors spread about us, and Father lost most of his clientele.”
Torben’s eyes turn down at the corners. “Is that why you don’t like telling others the truth about your magic? Because of what happened with Lady Christine?”
I nod. The pain of seeing someone I cared for and respected begin to look down on me with such disdain is still palpable, even after all this time. “After that, I vowed not to tell anyone about my magic again. The next time I broke my own rule was with Marybeth.”
“How did she react?”
My chest tightens. “She accepted me. At least, I thought she did.”
Torben taps his fingers against the tabletop, brows knitting together. “What does Lady Christine have to do with Danielle Harding?”
My body goes rigid. I suppose it’s time to tell him the rest.
“After our falling out with Lady Christine, we moved to Greenhollow, where Father secured the patronage of Barton Harding. Mr. Harding was so taken by Father’s talent that he treated him like more than just an artist. He treated him like a friend. Father once again wanted me to integrate with gentle society and encouraged me to befriend Danielle Harding, his patron’s daughter. Unfortunately, we’d already met.” I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I didn’t recognize her at first, but Danielle had once come to tea at Lady Christine’s with her aunt.”
“Was this aunt Marybeth’s mother?”
I shake my head. “No, this was a Mrs. Tomlinson, Danielle’s aunt on her mother’s side.”
Torben nods for me to continue my story.
I lift my teacup just to keep my hands busy. “I met Danielle on a visit where Lady Christine had instructed me to form a negative impression and learn our guest’s least favorable qualities. Mrs. Tomlinson had been Lady Christine’s target, not Danielle. Regardless, Danielle’s opinion of me was solidified during that visit, and there was nothing I could do to change it thereafter. Even though our fathers encouraged us to develop an acquaintance, she only saw me as lustful and scheming. After two years of our forced friendship, she convinced herself I intended to steal her betrothed.”
“What happened next?” When I don’t immediately answer, he extends his hand across the table, as if he wants to reach for me. He halts halfway, then swiftly snatches it back to drum his fingers against the dusty wood surface instead. I try not to stare too long at those fluttering digits. Ones I now know are capable of far more useful feats than tapping out a beat on a table—
Blushing, I tear my eyes away from his hand. “Well, many small things happened next that made her my enemy, but I suppose the most significant is how it ended.” My stomach churns again. I nibble my lip for several moments before I manage to say the rest. “I was invited riding one day. Danielle and I were accompanied by two other girls, but at a nod from Danielle, they left us alone. She confronted me about having stolen her betrothed’s attention. Nothing of the sort had happened, but she was convinced I’d turned his head and that he was going to call off their betrothal for me. I tried to tell her it wasn’t true. Tried to remind her I was only fifteen and far from being marriage minded, much less interested in a covert affair. She flew into a rage and forced her horse to sidle into mine. When she got close enough, she shoved me. I lost my seat and fell off my horse. The animal was so startled that it…that it…”
I close my eyes, remembering everything like it was yesterday. The agonizing crunch of hooves against my ribs. The searing pain that radiated through my body as both my legs were shattered.
Torben’s voice cuts through the memory. “That’s how you were injured.”
“Yes. The horse trampled me. I lost consciousness, but when I woke, I discovered my injury had caused a scandal. Danielle tried to profess that I’d fallen on my own. But as fate would have it, her betrothed had witnessed the entire fight from a distance. He saw her shove me. Shortly after, he called off their engagement. Father and I quickly relocated from Greenhollow to Tulias, the fae city where I was treated by the healer who helped me fully recover.”
“I’m so sorry, Astrid,” Torben says. I meet his eyes across the table and find them brimming with sincerity. Concern. Pain.
With a shrug, I say, “It’s in the past.”
“It might not be.”
“What do you mean?”
He rubs his jaw. “Let me ask you this. Do the Hardings have anyone with fae blood in their family?”
“Why does that matter?” I ask, but I know the answer before he says a word. “You think one of the Hardings is controlling Marybeth?”
“It’s possible, but only if any of them have fae blood. There needs to be at least some fae blood involved for compulsion to work.”
I want to argue that it isn’t possible at all. That Danielle already got her revenge against me. That she has no reason to hurt me further. That the culprithasto be my stepmother.
But I can say no such thing. Not with the chilling dread that sinks my stomach. Blooming hell. What if I was wrong all along?
I bite the inside of my cheek before answering. “The Hardings have two people with fae blood in the family.”
“Who?”
