Chapter Sixteen
I’ve just finished crying when someone knocks at my door.
I’ve already had dinner alone, brought on a tray by Eloree.
“Leave me be,” I call, but deep in my rib cage, my heart soars, hoping Emmett has come back to tell me he’s sorry.
But it’s not Emmett who bursts through the door.
Faith takes one look at my tear-streaked face and widens her eyes. “Has something happened?”
“Emmett—” My voice cracks and I start crying all over again.
“What about Emmett?” Faith asks.
“I don’t think he wants me anymore.”
“Oh, Ivy, I’m so sorry.” Marion sighs. She’s got a gold diadem atop her loose dark curls, and her gown is the rich blue-purple of spring violets. Beside her, Faith is a vision in molten silver. Her hair is half pulled back from her face, revealing a pair of earrings that trail down the column of her pale neck.
Faith puts her hands on her hips. “Want me to kill him for you?”
“No.” I let out a watery laugh.
“Some light maiming?” she offers.
“Only if it’s very light.” I smile weakly.
Faith flops down onto my pillows and looks up at me, mischief playing in her pale blue eyes. “Cast aside by Emmett De Vere? Hmm, that story sounds rather familiar.”
My first instinct is to defend him, but it’s so much more complicated than that. They sit on my bed while I pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, explaining the situation.
When I am finished, Marion looks at me with pity. I know by now she’s a true romantic. But Faith springs to her feet. “We’re going to the revel.”
“Ugh, please no,” I protest.
“Emmett will be there,” Faith says emphatically.
“That’s exactly why I don’t want to go.”
Faith shakes her head like I’ve got it all wrong. “I know Emmett rather well. Well enough to know he loves you and well enough to know how jealous he gets. Sitting up in your tower weeping over him will do you no good. Let’s make him cry over you for a change.”
“I can’t bear to see Bram,” I protest.
“Bram won’t be there,” Marion pipes up. “He’s in England for the next few days. Rhion sent word this evening.”
“Rhion? After kidnapping you, that’s rather odd.”
Faith shrugs. “He’s an odd man.”
They stare at me expectantly, awaiting an answer.
I can’t help myself.
“Find me a gown.” I gesture to the wardrobe and Faith squeals.
I regret saying yes immediately. She riffles through the racks until she finds the most ornately beaded dress there.
She grins in triumph as she laces me into it.
