She took a step backward to give herself more space. “What—ah—what time is it?”
He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Seven. I’m sorry, I’ve made you late for dinner three nights in a row.”
“It’s all right.” She smiled, turned, retreated.
When she arrived home, it was to an empty kitchen. She spooned lukewarm vegetables onto her plate—oh, for a bit of meat—and was about to pour herself a glass of water when Ella walked in.
“So,” her friend said, leaning against the table. “How’s the learning-your-lesson going? As if I couldn’t tell.”
“Lesson completely learned. I’ve been working.Justworking.”
No one—not even Rosemarie—did skeptical looks like Ella.
“Honestly.” Beatrix lowered her voice. “No declarations of eternal love. No kissing. No touching. Nothing.”
While awake. She didn’t add that part.
“It’s bad enough that you’re working together every day, alone,” Ella said. “If you keep spending extra time with the man, you’re going to crack.”
“I’m stronger than you think.”
Ella’s snorts were also quite expressive.
“No—listen,” Beatrix said, leaning toward her. “I realized after we talked that the feelings I developed for him aren’t mine. I Vowed to do him no harm. Magic is trying to engineer a warped happily ever after for his benefit.”
“Oh, God!”
“Shhh!But I had it out with him last week. He’s just as horrified as I am.”
“Nodoubt,” Ella said, scowling.
She scowled back. “He’s not acting on his attraction to me, and if you think I’d act on ‘mine’ for him, fully aware it’s been foisted on me like—like a blasted corset, then you really don’t know me, Ella Knight.”
Ella looked at her with a mournful sort of affection, shaking her head. “I know you. I know that when you put your mind to something, nothing will stop you. But sweet mother of God, why doesn’t he destroy the contract?”
“He tried. We can’t do it. It’s fused somehow with my Vows to him, and we can’t even destroy all three contracts.”
Ella’s mouth worked open and closed. She choked out, “You’restuckwith him? ’Til death do you part?”
“Yes. How did you know?—”
Ella waved that off. “Bethesda, remember? Beatrix ... this is ghastly.”
“Yes.” She separated the carrots and potatoes on her plate to give her something to do with her hands. “But it’s less ghastly than the feds targeting Lydia or the way we’re all so casually treated as inferior to men or—or any number of things,” she said, town-sized explosions replaying in her memory.
Ella came around the table and pulled her into a fierce hug. “What can I do? Anything—name it.”
“Thank you.” She wiped at suddenly wet eyes. “I’m managing. Just ... promise you won’t tell anyone. Especially Lydia.”
Her friend hesitated.
“Ella—”
“I won’t. I promise. I just thinkyoushould tell Lydia.”
She suppressed a laugh at the idea of that conversation. Hardly the time to start communicating. Besides: “She has too much to worry about already. No need to add my troubles, too.”
Ella sighed. But she didn’t argue.
