A storm rages beneath the surface of his hazel eyes.
“What do you see when you look at me?” The question comes out so quiet I’m not even sure if he hears me.
The love I have for him is the North Star I’ve been following. He’s been the reason for everything I’ve done; every moment of survival was for him. I’d never once considered he might not love me back anymore.
I think of the girl’s fingers in his mouth, of his intimate glances at Lydia.Ivy died.That’s what he said, and he’s wrong, but maybe he’s right, too. There is a version of me that died the night of my wedding. And it appears the version of Emmett, the one who loved me so desperately, is dead too.
Britain’s most notorious rake.Maybe I am a fool for letting myself think I was ever anything more than another notch in his bedpost.
Emmett’s eyes bore into mine for a beat, searching for something he clearly doesn’t find. He shakes his head, his longer hair a riot around his crumpled face, and then he disappears through a heavy door.
Chapter Ten
I begin to sob. It starts as big heaving breaths, but then they get stuck in my throat and I can’t breathe as the tears fall.
Lydia wraps me tightly in her arms. “You believe it’s me, then?”
She pauses and takes one long look at me. “If you are a selkie, you’re doing quite a good impression of my little sister. I’ll keep you around.”
I laugh weakly. “You vomited on the table at Lady Trummer’s autumn equinox tea when you were thirteen. You didn’t tell Mama you weren’t feeling well because you didn’t want to miss the party.”
Lydia presses her lips together.
“It was your most embarrassing moment. You never would have told Bram about it.”
“You don’t need to go on. I already believed it was you.”
“You did?” I ask hopefully.
She nods. “No one else could look that shattered gazing at Emmett. There’s not a selkie alive who is that talented an actress.”
“I don’t know what to say to convince him.” I look down at my hands. This is nothing like how I imagined this going.
“He’ll get there in his own time. Emmett is stubborn. He’safraid of getting hurt again. What he’s gone through here...” She trails off.
“What has he gone through?” I ask, dread coiling around me.
Lydia averts her gaze. “It’s not my story to tell.”
As if to change the subject, she takes my arm in hers. “Come along, we’ll have a room prepared for you.”
The tug I feel toward Emmett is ever present. “I need to speak to him, make him understand—”
“Give him time,” Lydia says.
“Time isn’t on our side. Won’t Bram come looking for me here? He’ll notice I’m gone soon enough.” In the plans I made with our little rebellion group, I pictured finding Lydia in the castle, freeing Emmett from prison, and fleeing with them, hiding somewhere for a few days until Rhion tricked Bram into reopening the portal and returning to England. I have flint and steel tucked in a pouch down my corset to make a fire in the woods. Never did I imagine I’d be welcomed into the castle as a guest.
Lydia’s beautiful face is calm. “Hours in London are equal to days here. We have a while before he comes.”
“I left in the night. He’ll sleep through the afternoon.”
Lydia nods. “That’s good. We have two or three days then, at least. Long enough to come up with a plan.”
“We can go to the woods. Rhion will open the portal as soon as he’s able—” The words race out of me; I need Lydia to understand how dire this is.
“Rhion?” she asks, confused.
“He’s helping us.”
