Nelle’s older sister, Evelene, was a force to be reckoned with. And her betrothed, Corné Pellan, had learned it the hard way. Fire and retribution burned within every inch of Evvie when she put him in his place, on his knees before her. If there was anyone who could and wanted to get back at the Pellans, it was her.
Me: I do…just don’t tell her it came from me.
Mela: Not your biggest fan?
Fuck no. Evvie and I were united briefly for one moment during her betrothal celebration. Now I was sure Evvie hated me just as much as her scumbag fiancé. Probably more.
Me: Who is?
Mela: You really need to learn how to play nicer. Maybe then you’ll have more friends than just me.
Mela: And thanks, Gray.
Me: Goes both ways. Anytime you need me, I’ll be there. See you tomorrow.
Plucking the Glenfiddich off the table, I refilled my glass with amber liquid, then wandered back to the hearth where Jett sat nearby, sulking in the armchair. The rest of our siblings had left, and it was only he and I remaining in the library.
Heat radiated in blistering waves, and smoke churned upward.
I’d been with Mom in the limousine before my entire world had been obliterated.
I flexed my fingers wide. Staring down at my palm and the hills of skin rough with calluses, a tingle of memory warmed my flesh. I could almost feel the touch of my mother’s skin on mine as she threaded her fingers through mine and squeezed. Her green eyes glistening with unshed tears and the watery smile she gave. Telling me how proud she was of my actions, defying the Horned Gods in the hope of saving a young girl, her voice was broken yet strong.
I stared at the flames devouring the logs, at the hypnotic way the fire undulated, disappearing and reappearing. My mind sifted through memory after memory, searching for anything that could make sense of that day.
When my mother visited Ascendria, she often met up with a friend for high tea at the Monarch Tower overlooking the lake.Sometimes it was Marissa, occasionally Aunt Rosa, or friends from when she’d worked as a servant for the Deniauds, like Oswin or Beckah. As for the other Matriarchs, they weren’t eager to spend time in my mother’s company. She’d risen to a role and position others felt she should never have been allowed to. My father hadn’t cared for our world’s traditions with its strict unions between upper-class families. He’d fallen in love with her years before, and despite her attempt to dissuade him because of their difference in ranks, he wasn’t the type of person to give up on something easily, or in this case,someonehe wanted.
In the past, it hadn’t gone well for other Houses that had tried to break with tradition. Hells, that was why our family had stepped down from Great House because my forefather had fallen in love with the wrong person. Notfrom the wrongclass, but because she had come from outside our sinister organization altogether. And my ancestors had suffered for the choice.
History could have repeated itself, but for one factor—Sirro.
Sirro had given my mother and father his blessing to marry. He explained his reasons to no one.
Gulping down a mouthful of whiskey, I rotated the glass between my fingers as I pushed through my memories of that fateful night when my mother was abducted.
I tried to recall what she’d been wearing. She had been casually dressedbeforeI’d left with Dad and Kenton for the Novaks’ that morning…but when I’d been picked up from the Novaks’ estate, she wore sophisticated and formal attire. The type of dress she would wear to meet someone important.
The simple lines of her dress, its dark navy color, and her sleek updo, which showcased her swan-like neck, made her jewelry stand out.
As she sat beside me, she unconsciously toyed with her necklace. Not the pearl pendant my aunt had given her as a gift years ago, this one sparkled with large yellow diamonds set ina chain of rose gold. Matching yellow diamonds glittered in her ears and were draped around her wrist. It was a jewelry set my father had commissioned for her, and she’d worn it for him on their wedding day. Specifically yellow diamonds, a reminder of the sun and its brilliance, because she was his summer.
I dragged a thumb across my bottom lip, deep in thought. Why that particular collection of jewels? Was it a statement to whomever she’d gone to meet that day?
I turned away from the fireside, letting its heat wash over my back. Jett petted Flossie, and he picked up my blunt, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.
“Did youfeelanything the day Mom was stolen?” I asked him.
Jett angled his head. He studied me, brows inching together over heavily lidded eyes. Licking his dry lips, he cleared his throat. “It’s taken you a long time to ask me anything about Mom.”
There had been nothing to ask because I’d been with her.
Afterward, my father and aunt asked me what had happened. I’d explained it over and over again until my voice grew hoarse, going through every single detail. Jett was briefly asked too, but he was young, confused, and utterly devastated. He’d been nine years old, and our mother was his heart. He barely spoke a word for many months afterward, and spent most of his time in his bedroom, weeping or crying out in agony when they tortured her.
And me, I retreated inside myself the moment I’d failed to protect her.
Jett’s gaze darkened with memory. “I felt her injuries from the car crash, but they were an abrupt, shallow kind of pain. There and gone.”
“Earlier in the day, I mean. Did you feel anything unusual? Had she been hurt while she was visiting Ascendria?”
