“About two days ago.”
I shifted myself out of bed, and a floor-length white sleeping gown shifted into place over my bare feet. My hair had been brushed and was tumbling in a freefall halfway down my back. Two ties of white fabric held the dress together over my shoulders, and the fabric was billowy and gauzy, moving with me as if alive.
I went to the window, threw the curtains back, and stared out at the bluest water I’d ever seen in my life. Bluer even than Simon’s eyes, and more inviting—white caps snapping and crackling as waves played in sync with the rays from the sun, a seamless duology of sky and earth.
Sugar-sand white beaches stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. The taste of salt landed on my lips, and the breeze toyed with the tendrils of hair on either side of my head.
Aside from sand and shore and sea, the only thing I could see was my wedding dress—thousands of dollars of fabric—hanging on a clothesline. The thought of this design just dangling outside in all the elements struck me as so funny, so out of place and quirky, that I burst into almost manic laughter.
“Oh, dear.” Millie frowned. “I knew I shouldn’t have hung that pretty thing outside. It’s more of an inside dress, isn’t it? I do hope I haven’t ruined your beautiful gown.”
“I don’t want it,” I said, realizing my words had never been truer. “I never wanted it. Do with it what you will.”
“But—”
“I don’t want it,” I repeated firmly.
I glanced down at my hand. My engagement band was no longer on my finger, and with its release, I felt a thousand pounds lighter. However, the crown-shaped ring adorned with blue gemstones, a blue that matched the waters here so perfectly it felt uncanny, was situated right where it belonged.
“Your crown is by your bedside,” Millie said.
“It’s not a crown.” I glanced at my tiara. “My mother wanted me to wear a veil, but I didn’t want one. She let me choose this instead.”
“Well, all right,” Millie said, in that voice that told me she didn’t quite comprehend my meaning but was going along with it anyway.
I turned to face Millie. “Tell me about Silas.”
“It’s not my place, Ms. Alessia.”
“It’s just Alessia,” I said. “And I need to understand the man who tried to kidnap me.”
Millie let out a snort. She looked so embarrassed by the outburst, she apologized profusely and looked downward in obvious embarrassment.
“I just...” Millie struggled to select the appropriate words. “I don’t think anybody understands Silas. I don’t even know that you can call him aman. It seems so...” She frowned, searching. “So inadequate.”
“What is he then, if not a man?”
“Terrifying? Desirable? Handsome? Deadly?” Millie shrugged. “Mysterious, for sure. Quiet and a bit cold, at least on the outside. He is the subject of a lot of fantasies and unrequited love from the women on The Isle, though he’s either not interested, or not capable, of falling in love. He hasn’t been short on propositions, that’s for sure.”
I agreed with all of Millie’s assessments except thecoldpart. I’d felt warmth radiating from Silas when he touched me. A warmth not on the surface, but from the very veins running through his body, originating from the essence that made him Silas. The man was capable of great love, of that I was certain.
“I see,” I said instead, because I didn’t exactly have data to back up my claims. “What does he do?”
“I don’t know,” Millie said. “I really wish you’d ask someone else. I don’t feel comfortable sharing details about the master of the home.”
“The master of...” I glanced around. “Thishome?”
For some reason, I couldn’t marry the purple-walled room flanked by frilled curtains and fresh flowers on the bedside table to the man who’d stood before me on the altar. I might believe the man capable of love, but I didn’t believe him capable of purple walls.
“This is his grandmother’s place. A cottage on his property,” she said. “Mr. Silas owns a lot of land on the north side of The Isle. His property extends deep into The Forest, then around the bend in the shore. He lives in the main house, a ten-minute walk from here. At least, I think he does. He doesn’t inform me of his sleeping whereabouts.”
“Ah. I’m going to confess, Millie. I’m a woman of science. I don’t believe in magic.”
“Isn’t science really just a way to explain magic?”
“Not really.”
“Oh. Then I bet you’ll believe in magic real quick.” Millie nodded, like this was explanation enough. “If magic didn’t exist, then how could I do this?”
