When I sat on the bed, careful not to nudge her hip, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me to her. White paint from the palette she’d discarded caught on the sleeve of my dress. I didn’t care; a mother’s embrace settled all doubts.
I could have gone to Cassidee or Wyeth, or Fenris even. Something about the cottage settled my worries and planted my feet on solid ground. I no longer wanted to flee or keep moving past this.
What I’d done could be fixed.
“What am I to do?” My tone turned pleading, and Angeline squeezed tighter. “I’ve made a mess of this.”
“Go into the kitchen. There’s a blue leather-bound recipe book. It has my shortbread instructions.”
“Make him biscuits? That’s your answer?” Leaning back to meet her now glassy gaze, I let out a watery chuckle.
She shrugged. “They’re his favorite. I usually make them on his birthday, which is tomorrow. So, you’re doing that forme.I have no advice for you on anything else. Something tells me you two will be just fine figuring that out on your own.”
My limbs felt heavy, and my head throbbed. I rubbed at my eyes, willing them to stay open.
“Go sober up in the armchair in the other room until morning,” Angeline demanded. “You smell like a wine barrel.”
Huffing a laugh, I rose and pulled the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders.
“Yes, ma’am,” I yawned out.
“If I don’t see you before you leave, then good luck, my dear. He may be King Mattock to everyone else, but he was brought up here, and Faulker men do not stay angry long.”
I offered her a weak smile and wished her goodnight before making my way out into the living area.
“Goodnight, Elsedora,” Leo said as he passed me a hot cup of tea before he retired into the bedchamber.
I curled up in the armchair, warmed by the fire. Tonight, I’d rest.
Tomorrow, I’d stop running.
Chapter 55
Larkspur
When we arrived at Lamoreaux, the house felt too cold and still; no lamps lit any of the rooms.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. She hadn’t come home.
“What’s the matter, love?” Dritan’s arms circled my shoulders as I extended my hands toward the fireplace, lighting the fire in the parlor. His Source power felt so natural to use.
Once illuminated, the room revealed a stack of blankets and pillows on the sofa.
“My aunt is such a fool,” I answered.
He squeezed me tighter. “I’m sure that she’s alright.”
Not the point.
Aunt El always landed on her feet. Just because she walked away did not prove she wasn’t wounded. The jagged little scars added up.
She wouldn’t be happy at the break of dawn when she faced a distraught Emmerick and the consequences of her ownmistakes. I grew tired of watching her sabotage matters of her own heart.
“How are you feeling about all of this?” I asked him.
Dritan’s grip didn’t falter. “About being a part of a world-saving prophecy? Oh, grand.”
A weak laugh escaped me. “Seriously,” I said, encouraging him to be honest.
