P R O L O G U E
?a raven needs a sparrow?
The wedding centerpiece was a bouquet of roses wrought in ice. Dyed blood-red, they had gleamed like gemstones or newly blown glass when Nadine Harnois had first arrived for her sister’s wedding ceremony, but now they were starting to melt in their ice-block vase, frosting the inside with what looked like fresh, arterial blood.
Nadine turned away from the grisly sight, clutching her champagne glass. It was filled with melting wine spritzer, rimmed with sparkling sugar and topped with edible rose petals. Her sister, Noelle, loved roses, and the wedding was full of them.Apparently her new husband spared no expense, Nadine thought, glancing at the rose archway that had been intertwined with the grills of the iron entrance gate, thrown open to allow guests to come and go as they pleased.
Sprays of roses topped every available surface, jockeying with clusters of baby’s breath and green string-of-pearls in their arrangements. The papery-sweet scent of them furred her lungs, making it hard to breathe.There’s something almost funereal about this, she thought, rubbing at the goosebumps that had erupted on her arms. But no, surely that was bad luck to eventhink.
She had found out about the wedding from a postcard, of all things. It had arrived addressed to both Nadine and her Aunt Nikki, from an address she didn’t recognize in a place called Argentum, California. Nadine had Googled it: it was a tiny silver mining town in the Sierra foothills, scarcely large enough to warrant a Wikipedia article.
I’m getting married, Nad!was all the postcard said.You’re going to love Ben. He’s like the prince charming we always talked about growing up. He even lives in a castle (almost!). I know it’s last minute, but the ceremony is in two weeks. Please say you’ll come. Give my love to Aunt Nikki. xoxo
If she hadn’t recognized her sister’s trademark breathlessness, Nadine might have thought her sister was being forced to write the note at gunpoint, it was so abrupt.
Stop that. You stop that right now, Nadine.
It was hard not to worry, though. Things had been strange ever since she had gotten out of her taxi. The driver had been fine, but the old, narrow roads weren’t wide enough for him to take his car down, so he’d dropped her off at the town square before making a U-turn and going back down the main road. As soon as she got out of the car, people had stared. She had thought it was because of her formal dress, but this wasn’t the right kind of staring. It looked . . . hostile.
Thoroughly unnerved, Nadine had walked into one of the quaint old buildings for directions to Ravensgate and as soon as the female store clerk had found out where she was headed, any pretense of friendliness dropped from her face like a folding stage curtain.
“End of the road,” she said brusquely. “Past the sheriff’s office. You can’t miss it; it’s an eyesore.”
Nadine shivered, despite the heat. The house certainlywasthat—big and unfriendly. But then, Ravensgate was hardly a welcoming name, was it? Noelle had called it a “castle” in her letter, but if it was a castle, then it was almost certainly the kind that had a dungeon. It had certainly made her rethink the French press she had brought as a wedding present. A place like this probably had its own coffee bar.
She rubbed at her bare shoulders. The red satin was a little too tight in the butt and it was far more revealing than anything she usually wore, but it was the best she could afford with the lack of timing. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about the after-dinner paunch, though. She would have liked to have eaten something but her sister had forgotten to forward the contact information for the caterers, and with her food allergies, she had decided it was better to be safe than sorry, and for her, “safe” often meant not having anything at all because “sorry” meant throwing up in the bathroom.
The wine was probably a mistake.She fanned herself, feeling a little faint as Bach’sAir on G Stringfilled the air with its stultifying sweetness, bringing the venue to a sensory overload.As soon as I get home, I’m going to sleep this off.
She looked again at the growing pool of pinkish-red liquid in the ice vase and thought,eyesore.
“Morbid, isn’t it?”
The voice was deep enough, and close enough, that it startled her into sloshing some wine on her dress. While she brushed it off frantically, Caledon Cullraven said, in a tone of wry amusement, “Roses were associated with the Passion. Their manifestation in the presence of martyrs and saints was known as ‘the miracle of the roses.’”
“That’s very interesting,” Nadine said, in a stilted tone of forced politeness. She sat her glass down on the table with the roses, resisting the urge to fold her arms or wipe her sticky hands on the skirt of her dress. “Noelle didn’t mention you being Catholic.”She didn’t mention you at all.“Do you practice religion regularly then?”
His mouth twitched. “Only its absence.”
Nadine eyed him warily. Ben, she knew, was an architect. Stern and brooding, he was as stiff and immobile as the steel and stone he worked with. She had seen some of his projects during her spying session; he was particularly fond of spires and arches. A regular gothic throwback.
Speaking of gothic throwbacks, she thought, eying the man looming over her. He was buttoned into his suit like he might burst out of it. His build was lean but powerful, and there was a gleam in his eyes that hinted at a boredom that would only be satisfied by the profane.
There wasn’t anything about Cal online. She had checked. Noelle hadn’t said much either, in their harried conversation this morning, and Nadine’s reception had cut out before she was able to do much stalking in the taxi. All that Noelle had told her about the youngest Cullraven brother was that he was in his last year of law school and “a little strange.”
The music changed to the sprightlierWaltz of the Flowersand Cal, still wearing that slightly mocking smile, held out his arm and said, “Dance with me.”
After a moment’s pause, Nadine took it.
Despite the vastness of the property, it was a very small wedding. Aunt Nikki hadn’t been able to come and for some reason, Noelle hadn’t invited any of her school friends. So it was just them and the Cullravens, and one of Cal’s friends, who had red hair that clashed with his tie.
Nadine didn’t know who any of the other guests were. They were all mostly older and their clothes and jewelry looked fairly expensive.
She missed a step and stiffened when her chest grazed the rough wool of Cal’s suit. “Sorry,” she muttered uncomfortably, even as she felt her flesh begin to prickle against the satin. “I’m not very good at dancing.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, not moving back, and the way his deep voice vibrated against her made her fervently hope that the draping of her cowl neck would hide the sudden hardness of her nipples.
Like his brother, Cal had the kind of profile that looked like it ought to have been chiseled on a coin: a strong nose with a raised bridge, thick black brows, and a full mouth that added a satiric bent to a face that might have otherwise been as severe as his brother’s. It looked ironic, now, cloaked in what might have been disdain, although whether it was for her, the wedding, or the venue as a whole, Nadine couldn’t even begin to guess.
