30. Winnie

CHAPTER THIRTY

WINNIE

I guess Alaric’s calling in his favour now.

My head spins from everything that’s happened. I’m struggling to flip from Alaric’s deep, rich voice asking me to go to bed with him, to all the sweet, possessive things he said, to this new revelation and how my body hums when he calls me wife .

After he pretended to be my fiancé for Patrick and Claire, I’ll happily play along with his game.

Although I doubt his mother will believe us. Why would someone choose to marry me when there were eligible ladies like Perdita around?

I squeeze against Alaric’s body, wrapping my hands around his waist and glaring possessively at Perdita. I barely have to pretend at all. “Hello.”

“Winifred, this is my mother, Lady Callista Valerian, matriarch of the Blood Valerian, and her guest, Perdita Chastain, Princess of the Midnight Court.”

Princess?

I raise an eyebrow to Alaric. This must be the family secret he needs to tell me. He’s some kind of royalty and he’s engaged to a princess. He returns my gaze with a tilt of his chin, his mouth fixed in a firm line. It’s as close as flustered as I’ve ever seen Alaric look.

Play along, Winnie. You’ll make him explain later.

I extend a hand towards Alaric’s mother. “Call me Winnie, please. I’m so happy to meet you. Alaric’s told me so much about you.”

A lie. Alaric has told me absolutely nothing about this terrifying woman. And it’s probably for the best, because I might’ve run away from Black Crag and never come back.

Alaric’s mother regards me with cold revulsion. Her lips curl back into a snarl. “ Her? Alaric, you cannot be serious. I know you enjoy flouting our laws, but this is too low, even for you. Obviously, you cannot marry her. She is a hu?—”

“I have prepared drinks in the sitting room.” Reginald appears beside the shelves of teddy bears. “Follow me.”

Alaric’s flashes Reginald a grateful half-smile. “Let us have drinks and we can discuss the details. Winnie, you may join us if you wish, or wait for me in your chambers. I won’t be long.”

“I’d love a drink.”

“But weren’t you saying how sleepy you were?” His eyes beg me.

“I’ve found a second wind.” I smile. I know that Alaric’s trying to get me away from them so he can do damage control, but he doesn’t get to make all the rules in this fake-engagement. Plus, if I’m being honest, I’m enjoying seeing him squirm.

“It should join us,” Callista sniffs. “Perhaps it can explain to us how this absurd relationship even began. Our Thralls will bring in our things.”

She’s calling me ‘it’. Excuse me?

I can see why Alaric isn’t thrilled about her visit.

Two men in their early twenties with bloodshot eyes and dopey smiles on their faces appear in the doorway, carrying between them a long cardboard box, which they start manoeuvring up the stairs.

“Follow me.” Reginald trots off in the direction of the sitting room. The two ladies float gracefully after him, their dresses kicking up clouds of dust as they sweep over the flagstones. I can practically hear the disdain dripping from Callista as she silently regards the gaps on the walls and the piles of Alaric’s projects everywhere.

“I think it would be best if I found lodgings for you and Perdita somewhere else,” Alaric says stiffly as he trails behind them into the room. “Winnie and I have been working on preparing rooms for you, Mother, but since you are early, we haven’t quite?—”

“Nonsense. I will not be removed from the castle, no matter the state it’s in.”

“I think Black Crag is lovely,” Perdita says in a breathy, sultry voice. “It’s very…traditional.”

“As you’ll learn, my dear, our family believes in keeping up the rituals and customs of our society.” Callista fixes her son with a withering glare. “At least, some of us do.”

“Please, do not worry – the Chastain clan have our traditionalists, too.” Perdita flutters her impossibly-long eyelashes in Alaric’s direction. “Personally, I enjoy life with a little bit of spice.”

I’m sure you do.

Alaric’s grip on my arm is a vise as he drags me into the sitting room. Reginald has uncorked two bottles – a red and a white – and placed them beside four glittering silver goblets on the table. He’s fussing with the fireplace, trying to get the kindling to catch.

“Leave us, Reginald,” Callista waves her hand. “We do not require the fire.”

I rub the goosepimples on my arms. How is she not freezing her tits off in that thin silk dress?

“My betrothed needs it,” Alaric says firmly. “Reginald, please finish the fire. I shall pour the drinks.”

Alaric lifts the red wine and pours three glasses. I notice that the label is one of those strange old bottles in the temperature-controlled sleeves that I saw in his cellar. He reaches for the white.

“Actually, I fancy the red,” I say. Alaric shakes his head softly as he hands me a glass of white. Perdita giggles as if I’ve said something hilarious.

“Trust me,” he whispers, his breath rushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. I nod, accepting the glass. I’ll trust him…for now.

Behind him, Callista shakes her head, her eyes venomous.

Alaric takes my hand and moves us to stand in front of the fire, our backs to the flames. Callista flicks her gaze to me with disinterest, as if I’m a bug she is hoping Reginald will notice and squash without her having to think about me again. I inch myself closer to Alaric.

Perdita circles the room, her long fingers stroking the stem of her glass. Her nails are blood red, and shaped to vicious points.

“These tapestries are exquisite.” She runs those blood-red talons over the fine gold threads.

“Alaric made them,” I say. “He’s a talented artist.”

“I’m aware. I’m the one who taught him to use a paintbrush, although I see that his eye has far surpassed mine. I hope to discover many more of Alaric’s talents.” She smiles sweetly, but the way she strokes the stem of her glass is anything but sweet.

I’d like to dunk her head in a vat of honey.

They know each other? She taught him to paint?

“Mother, Perdita, you must be tired from the road,” Alaric says. “You will have my chambers. Reginald will make them ready for you now.”

“Certainly, my lord.” Reginald hurries away.

“Where will you sleep?” Perdita asks, her words heavy with suggestion.

“With my love.” Alaric plants a kiss on my hair that might’ve appeared chaste and loving, but after last night feels like a lightning bolt straight between my thighs.

Perdita makes a face.

“We all have our perversions, but must you flaunt yours in front of your mother?” Callista pats the sofa beside her. “You know what you risk by fornicating with this…this?—”

“Things do not have to be as they always were, Mother. Winnie has introduced me to this new invention called contraception .”

Is he serious right now?

“It’s quite remarkable,” Alaric continues, unaware of my face heating up like a fried tomato. “She has these little golden crowns that prevent little Alarics from?—”

“That’s probably not something we should talk about in front of your mother.” I jab my elbow into his ribs.

“Yes, son,” Callista pats the sofa beside her. “I don’t want to hear anything more about it. Sit with me. I have much news of our predicament to impart.”

Alaric lifts a questioning eyebrow to me. I clutch my wine glass like it contains all the meaning of the universe. “Go,” I whisper. “I don’t need you to babysit me. It’s not as if Perdita bites.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” With a forlorn look at me over his shoulder, Alaric strides across the room to perch next to his mother. She leans in close, whispering frantically, her elegant hands gesticulating wildly. I can’t hear a word they’re saying. I toss back my head and skull my wine.

And I thought my mother was difficult. At least she never tried to arrange my marriage.

“Walk with me.”

I whirl around. Perdita has somehow crossed the room in a flash to stand right behind me, her tits practically brushing mine. Before I can protest, she grabs my arm in her cold hand, shoves it through hers, and starts dragging me around the perimeter of the room like we’re extras in Bridgerton .

“You were saying that Alaric made these tapestries. Is that why there is so much stuff in the hallway and rooms?”

“Alaric’s very artistic,” I say proudly. “He fills his castle with his passions. He paints, sculpts, makes pottery…but I’m helping him to tame the mess. We’ve cleaned out the ballroom and?—”

“This is excellent. My court celebrates the arts. I’m an accomplished cellist, and with my connections, I’ll have his work in the finest galleries in Europe. I’m particularly enamoured with this one.” She stops in front of the battle scene in the valley. “It’s a wonder that he was able to capture all these precise details of this battle, almost as if he were there.”

“Alaric loves history.” I don’t like the way she talks about him, as though she knows him better than me. “He does his research.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure he does.” She gifts me with a cold smile. I catch a flash of incisor as sharp as her talons, but it’s gone when I blink. I imagined it. I must have. “Alaric was always popular when he lived at my court. He would delight my parents with his mock battles in the throne room, and present me the most lavish gifts that he made.”

Alaric was at a royal court? I glance over at my fake-fiancé, leaning in close to his mother while she whispers fervently to him. With his aristocratic nature and his old-fashioned manners, I believe Perdita.

I also believe he would’ve hated it. I think I am beginning to understand why he hid himself away in this remote castle.

“Run along now, little human girl,” Perdita hisses in my ear, her teeth scraping my skin. Something about her heady perfume and strange, haunting beauty scrambles my thoughts until I’m almost wishing that she would kiss me. “Too much is riding on this marriage for it to be undone by Alaric’s stupidity. You may be his fancy – a tempting plaything he’ll discard as soon as he breaks you, like one of his little hobbies – but his mother will make certain he does the right thing for his kin.”

Who is she calling human girl?

“Alaric makes his own decisions,” I shoot back, tearing myself away from her. “He’s chosen me. You and your perky tits will have to get over it.”

But my voice trembles. I’m still disarmed by her beauty. How will Alaric ever see me when she’s a bonfire of golden light burning with an otherworldly glow? I fade into the shadows beside her.

“Alaric will be mine,” she says with an easy smile, as their love story has already written.

I glare at Perdita all trussed up in that beautiful dress, so certain that she belongs with the complicated man I’ve got to know over the last two weeks. I think of my intention. I deserve to be happy.

What will make me happiest right now?

I toss my wine over her head.

“Eeeee!” Perdita grabs her hair. “What’s the witch done to me?”

Alaric and Callista leap to their feet. Callista rushes to Perdita’s aid, calling for Reginald to assist. Alaric lifts an eyebrow at me, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

I don’t want to see him smirking at me when he’s betrothed to someone else.

I’m feel like I’m surrounded by piles of my mother’s things, like the walls and my feelings and beautiful women and Alaric’s secrets loom over me, ready to topple down at any moment and bury me alive.

I can’t breathe. I need to get away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” I set down my empty glass. “I’ve got work to do. My business partner needs the accounts.”

For once, I’m grateful for Faye’s thoughtlessness.

“I’ll escort you.” Alaric offers his arm.

“Stay with your mother,” I manage to choke out as I back towards the door. “You have a lot to catch up on. I’m perfectly capable of making it to my room by myself.”

He’s forgotten all about you. It’s probably for the best, anyway. He’s your client, remember? Faye may be pretty chill, but even she’d probably call ‘going to bed’ with a client unprofessional.

Alaric smiles that dazzling half-smile at me, and the stone that’s lodged itself in my throat rolls around a little. “I’m in no doubt about your stair-climbing and castle-navigating abilities, my wife. I’m concerned about what Perdita might do to you from the shadows.”

“She’s no match for me and my trusty knife.”

Alaric glances over his shoulder as Reginald flies into the room to help Perdita. “I must kiss you goodbye.”

My cheeks heat. I flash back to the amazing, toe-curling kiss we shared at the pub, and all the kisses that have come after it.

I can’t do that in front of his mother.

Especially not when I don’t know what we are anymore.

Alaric misunderstands my shock as consent. He moves in, his thighs brushing mine, one hand curling around my thigh. “They are watching. It will convince them that we are serious.”

“Alaric—”

I don’t want you to kiss me to convince your mother we’re engaged.

I want you to kiss me because you want ? —

My thoughts are cut off by the sweep of his lips over mine, the coolness of his skin, the possessive way he grips my thigh, holding me in place as he tastes me.

It feels just like the way he kissed me last night, as if I’m being swept along by a riptide, pulling me out to sea. But this isn’t real. He’s putting on a show.

None of it is real.

Maybe I don’t care. He has me so reckless and untethered that I want to make a mess of my life, just to see what will happen. And if making a mess feels like this , like being swept up in the arms of a wild god, then…

Yes , my heart whispers.

No, my brain shouts.

When I withdraw, I’m breathless, panting. My cheeks redden. I’m making a fool of myself in front of Callista and Perdita, but it’s impossible not to when he kisses like that. I can’t bear to look at them. I don’t want to know what they think of me.

I can’t do this. I’m too twisted up. I don’t trust myself with him, and I can’t trust him when there’s a secret between us.

Callista makes an aggrieved sound in her throat. Alaric whispers, “I will be with you as soon as I can get away. We need to speak urgently. ”

I nod, swallowing against the stone. I tear myself away from him and run from the room before he can see the tears rain down my cheeks.