21. Cecilia

21

CECILIA

A lcohol was the simple answer to a complicated problem. Cecilia should have thought of it herself. Drunk Rainer was always so snuggly and sweet, and he likely did not remember that particular bit of information.

She'd almost laughed out loud when he showed up at her door with a bottle of whiskey and a deck of cards. Unfortunately, he had much higher tolerance than Cecilia, and in order to get him to drink she had to do the same.

"To what do I owe this surprise, Rainer?" she teased, sipping the whiskey and savoring the warmth that spread down her throat to her chest. "Are you here to celebrate your engagement?"

Rainer looked chastened by the question. He shrugged. "I thought you might want some company since you've been shut up in your rooms for the past day. And I brought you something to read." He pulled a book of Argarian fairy tales out from under his arm.

Cecilia didn't buy his explanation, but she went along with it because being with him away from prying eyes, she felt pleasantly light for the first time in weeks. Rainer only intentionally sought her out to guard her and her only plan for the evening was to sneak down to see Magdalena and Mika, but his sudden presence led her to believe she was missing something.

She took the book and placed it on her nightstand. "Will Lady Spellman be joining us?" she asked.

Rainer frowned and guilt swelled through their bond. "No."

"If I didn't know any better, I might think that you were trying to distract me from something," Cecilia said.

Rainer shook his head. "Can't you just enjoy the satisfaction that I consider you a worthy adversary?"

She grinned at him. He was a terrible liar. As she shifted and the teal cashmere sweater he'd bought her dipped off her shoulder, his eyes tracked the movement.

"Why did you answer dressed like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

Rainer gestured to her nightdress. She had been prepared to act as if she was going to sleep when he did his nightly check-in on her and had slipped the sweater on for warmth. Still, it wasn't an appropriate outfit for anyone but a lover to see her in.

"If you thought it was inappropriate, why did you come in?"

Rainer's cheeks pinked. "Because I knew if I suggested you put something else on, you'd likely find something more scandalous to spite me."

"So, you're saying you think I look appealing?" Cecilia asked.

Rainer frowned, dealing the cards. "I'm saying you look like trouble."

"That's exactly what I was going for!" she exclaimed, delightedly clapping her hands. The whiskey had gone straight to her head, and she felt giddy.

They played several hands. Cecilia let him win five times in a row. When they were younger, he used to let her win after she lost too many times because he felt guilty. It took him a long time to put together that she intentionally threw the first few hands to lull him into a false sense of security.

She sprawled lazily on the bed, looking over the edge of her cards to where Rainer sat on the floor, leaning against her nightstand. Since waking up after the attack, he'd been clean-cut, but tonight stubble dusted his jaw, and she fought the urge to reach out and brush her fingers over it.

"You have a terrible poker face," Rainer teased.

"Maybe that's just what I want you to think," she countered.

"It's not. You're refreshingly expressive," Rainer said.

She sat up, feeling the pleasant lightness of the whiskey in her limbs. Sitting across from him as they drank and played cards, she could almost forget their circumstances. She could almost ignore the chill of the castle, the terror constantly cresting and receding in her body.

Rainer looked so relaxed. He hadn't looked like that since before she stole his memories.

"So, have you assumed all of the duties that you had before the attack?" Cecilia asked, pretending to nurse her drink. "Other than just guarding me, of course."

Rainer sipped his whiskey. "I'm not sure since I don't remember everything I did before and since you seem delighted to make keeping you out of trouble a full-time job."

"Nonsense—it's part-time at best. I sleep late and go to bed early."

Rainer arched an eyebrow like he didn't believe her. Did he suspect she'd been sneaking around? He could easily be the one to rat her out to Vincent since he had forgotten what side he was on.

"The king still seems tentative to put too much responsibility on me, but I think that he's coming around," Rainer said, a hint of pride in his voice. "He's been progressively bringing me in on some of the high-profile prisoners and has tasked me with figuring out if there are any more people in our midst who might be a threat to his reign."

Cecilia sighed. "That sounds like more than a little responsibility. I'm sure he wouldn't let just anyone know which prisoners are where or what the king's daily schedule is."

Rainer frowned. "How did you know I know his schedule?"

She giggled. "I didn't until now."

That was certainly information worth having. Cecilia only had the basics of Vincent's daily schedule—not enough to know when he was most vulnerable.

Rainer looked back at her with amusement in his eyes, glancing briefly at the door. She needed to suck him back in and get him talking or he would leave. If Vincent was actually letting him in on important information, she might be able to get it out of him.

"Care to make this more interesting?" Cecilia asked.

Rainer arched an eyebrow. "What could be more interesting than playing poker with the future queen?"

Cecilia tipped her head back and laughed. He liked to remind her of her position when she was making him nervous. "Finish that glass and I'll tell you."

His glass was nearly full, but he didn't hesitate to knock it back. The last few drops clung to his lips. Cecilia wanted to kiss them away.

Rainer's eyebrows shot up, making it clear that sentiment was written all over her face. "See something you like?"

Cecilia grinned. "Actually, I only see things I like."

The tension between them seemed poised to snap if either of them moved. Gods, she wanted him to touch her almost as badly as she was afraid to be touched.

Rainer shook his head. She almost had him.

"My idea is that whoever loses the next hand also has to lose an article of clothing," she said. Rainer's eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. "Don't tell me you're going to say something about that being inappropriate. You're already corrupting me with your alcohol and gambling."

Rainer laughed. "I figured it was nearly impossible to further corrupt you."

He narrowed his eyes, considering her proposition. She watched him go through a whole host of emotions. He clearly wanted her pliant if he was even considering her request. As much as she wanted to see him naked, she'd have to throw the next few hands so that she ended up in a state of undress that was enough to entice him to tell her what was going on. For today, spying had its benefits.

Just a few hands later, she sat in just her silk nightgown and thigh-high wool socks. If Rainer noticed her sudden losing streak, he must have chalked it up to drunkenness. He shuffled the cards, dealing for both of them. She reached for hers and the strap of her nightgown slipped.

He sucked in a breath and their gazes clashed. She paused, her fingers brushing his.

Rainer drew his hand back like he'd been burned, looking suddenly extremely interested in his cards. She was losing him.

"It seems things are finally calming down with the common folk," she said.

Rainer shrugged a shoulder. "There have been less of them gathered at the gates." He sipped his whiskey and played his cards.

He was like a stone wall. She'd have to try harder.

She leaned forward more than necessary to reach for her cards and her strap slipped again. "I know Vincent is livid that he hasn't found Reese Reynolds yet," she said. That was her best guess. Vincent would be the last person to share valuable information with her.

"We'll find him soon."

Cecilia laughed and reached for her drink, allowing her strap to slip for a third time.

Rainer shifted, trying to look anywhere but at her chest, where her gown was hanging scandalously low. "I don't see how it could be so hard to find one mindless man, but it doesn't bode well for finding the rest of the rebels."

"But you have no leads," Cecilia said.

Rainer cocked his head to the side and she worried she'd pushed a bit too hard. His face softened. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Cecilia. You don't need to worry."

She shifted to the floor. The stone was cold, even through her thick socks. The roaring fire had chased most of the chill from her room. But with just her nightdress, she was cold enough that her nipples pressed hard against the silk.

Rainer's gaze dropped to her lips and then her chest. She wished she'd worn a more low-cut nightgown so he would see the golden scar on her chest. That wouldn't expressly be helping him remember, but surely he'd wonder why her scar matched his.

Rainer licked his lips and looked away.

Cecilia reached over their glasses and the cards to take his hand. "I won't let anyone hurt you either."

At first, he smiled like he thought she was joking, but then the creases around his eyes softened and he looked almost startled.

"I should go after this hand," he said, taking another long gulp of whiskey.

Cecilia let him win one more time. She brought her hand to the hem of her dress and Rainer's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Just kidding," she said with a wink. She pulled off one of her socks and tossed it at him.

He laughed, though she couldn't tell if it was at her or himself, then he stood and pulled on the sweater he'd shed.

Cecilia crossed the room, sitting atop a short chest of drawers by the door. "Do we have somewhere to be?"

"I have somewhere to be. The only place you have to be is here," he said softly.

"What if I want to come?" she asked, lacing every word with innuendo.

Rainer swallowed hard. He crossed the room, stopping right in front of her. His hand came to rest on her thigh. The only barrier between them was her high wool sock that reached almost to the edge of the slit in her nightgown.

Immediately Rainer met her eyes, searching for permission. He was so good about acknowledging that boundary, so understanding, even without his memories.

She held his gaze as she shifted so that his fingertips slid to the gap above her sock. He hesitated before brushing his fingers over the skin of her thigh.

Rainer leaned in close so that his breath danced over the shell of her ear. She tilted her head back, eyes closed. She was so overwhelmed by his closeness, the smell of him like salty air and clean linens and lilac. She wanted to crush him against her and bury her face in his chest, but she knew he would see that as inappropriate.

"Cece, you don't want to come with me," Rainer soothed. His cheek brushed against hers, stubble pleasantly scraping her skin. "This is the boring stuff you hate. Stay here and read. I brought you that book. Can you do that for me?"

Cecilia barely registered his words because his thumb was gently stroking her inner thigh. She felt wild with desire—a feeling she thought long dead. Now she wanted to rub her body against his.

"Hmm?" she asked dumbly.

Touch had been so difficult for her since the attack, but Rainer's touch was so soothing she didn't ever want it to stop. She snapped her eyes open and met his gaze, praying he wouldn't stop touching her.

"Cece, can you stay here and not cause trouble? Be a good girl?" he asked.

If anyone else had said the words, she would have rolled her eyes, but the second they rolled off Rainer's tongue, she wanted to purr. He made it sound filthy and it was the first time since everything had gone so wrong that she felt actively turned on. Everything she worried had gone to sleep forever in her came roaring back to life at his closeness, at the way he breathed the words in her ear and the sensation of prickly hot desire surging through their bond.

"You'll do that for me, right, Cece?" Rainer asked, meeting her eyes. "Be a good girl?"

She gasped, high with lust. Her teeth dragged over her bottom lip as she nodded. He smiled. He was so close to her face and so handsome she thought she'd die if he didn't just kiss her. She forced herself not to reach for him.

"Yes," she breathed.

Rainer sighed, his nose grazing up the column of her throat. "How do you always smell so good?" He seemed momentarily distracted—as lost in her as she was in him.

"Magic," she mumbled, willing his lips to press to her skin.

"You'll stay here in your room and not try to escape and cause trouble, right?" He nuzzled her neck, and she dropped her head back against the wall, practically moaning.

She hadn't felt so turned on in weeks, and suddenly her body was flooded with tension, heat, and heady lust.

"Yes you will, won't you? You'll be such a good girl for me," he murmured, his lips grazing her skin.

"Fuck," she mumbled.

He chuckled and the vibration of it pulsed through her whole body. "Stay here. Be good."

Then his warmth fell away, the door closed, and the key turned in the lock. Cecilia snapped out of her daze as the lock clicked.

What. The. Fuck.

How had she been so dazed that she didn't realize what he was doing? He used her own distracting seduction techniques against her.

"Rain!" She pounded on the door. "Come back!"

When it was clear he wouldn't return, she sulked and slid down the door to the floor. "Asshole."

But she couldn't deny that, for the first time since Vincent had put his hands on her, she finally felt the familiar warmth spreading through her body. Before, she'd wanted Rainer's comfort and his affection, but now she wanted his body. She wanted his mouth and his hands all over her skin and she definitely wanted him telling her what a good girl she was while he did it.

The words sparked an idea. She climbed into bed and closed her eyes, imagining him touching her, whispering in her ear. " You're such a good girl ."

The words were like a match to tinder. She touched herself tentatively and then more urgently, chasing something that stayed frustratingly out of reach, no matter how much she reminded herself that she was safe in her body behind a locked door.

She gave up after a few minutes and sat with a huff. At least she felt something. Part of her was worried that what she'd felt before would only return in fits and starts, but now that familiar warmth felt within reach.

Rising from the bed, she pulled on her boots. They still smelled faintly of the stables from a prank she'd pulled on Grant that afternoon. She smiled as she ducked into the passageway leading from her room to meet with Magdalena for her healing session.

The healer's suite was quiet this late at night, the candles burning low in their holders. Fragrant smoke burned in a dish of dried lavender. Magdalena sat in her chair by the fire, a patient, soft smile on her face.

"Is it necessary for me to be here for these sessions this often?" Cecilia asked.

Mika crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "Was it necessary for you to wear the same boots you wore to stables this afternoon when you went to get horse shit to smear under Grant's bed? I'm going to smell like a stable when I go to Rainer's bachelor party."

Cecilia frowned. Her Rainer would have been entirely uninterested and probably adorably disoriented by a bunch of scantily clad women dancing for him, but this Rainer was different—edgier. Perhaps he would enjoy it after all.

She glanced at Mika's low-cut red gown. Most men would enjoy the view.

"I used gloves and washed my hands five times, but I can't help what's left on my boots," Cecilia said. "And thank you for noticing the excess of my antics. Systematically ruining Grant's day is hard work and I've put a lot of effort into creative ways to do it."

Mika shook her head.

"You're deflecting," Magdalena said, her gaze piercing Cecilia even through the steam of her tea. She sipped slowly, waiting for Cecilia to speak.

"I know you want me to talk about things, but it's not helping. I can't forget what happened even though it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I'm not getting over it, so what I need to know is how to live with it."

Magdalena gestured to herself and Mika. "This is how we live with it. Women have been doing this for centuries: sharing our grief, carrying it for each other when we lack the strength to bear it alone. It's part of the legacy of women in this world. Men think they're strong because they take, but it takes much more strength to endure, to hold back and strike at the right moment. To bottle your rage and use it when you need it instead of spreading it around like it's your right."

Cecilia watched her friend's face. This little room in Magdalena's suite was one of the only places in the entire castle where she could take a deep breath.

"This is how we take care of each other. Generations of women leaned on other women to hold the hurts only they could understand. The weight is unbearable alone. It's hardly bearable together. In witness we save each other," Magdalena said.

Love was many things, but at that moment, it was understanding and empathy.

"I know I'm okay, but I can't get over the fear that at any moment I'm going to be just as powerless. It's like I'm constantly on edge, constantly waiting to have to fight my way out. Does that go away?" Cecilia asked.

Mika sighed, taking Cecilia's hand. "I think it goes away at times and at others it comes back all at once." She shook her head. "I cannot believe that I was within striking distance of him when he was unprotected for months, and I didn't end him."

Cecilia squeezed her hand. "So was I. How could we have known? I was supposed to be able to sense his emotions and I never got even a hint of resentment from him."

Magdalena shook her head. "You're both being too hard on yourselves. He has had years to plan this. We did the best we could with the information we had. All of your feelings are valid, but I refuse to accept that either of you should have or could have done more. We know better than to go down that road. It won't undo anything. It won't bring Ivy back. Now, Cece, did you do your homework?"

Cecilia huffed out a breath, her cheeks heating. "I tried. It didn't work."

"What happened?" Magdalena asked .

Cecilia squirmed in her chair. "I could touch myself, but I can't finish."

Her cheeks burned. She'd never discussed anything like this with Rainer or Xander other than in the context of dirty talk. Talking about it so plainly made her feel raw and vulnerable.

"It will come back," Magdalena said. "You're still in an environment that feels chaotic and unsafe. When you feel safe again, it will come back."

"And when will that be?" Cecilia snapped. She sighed, regretting the hardness in her voice. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help. I can't help feeling that if I could get myself over the finish line I'd be less cranky."

Mika laughed. "On that note, I have to be up in the bachelor suite for the festivities. You two will be all right on your own?"

Cecilia nodded and Mika paused in front of the mirror to check her hair and makeup before rushing out of the room.

"Have you been practicing coming back to your body in those moments of panic?" Magdalena asked.

Cecilia nodded. "I start with the texture of my dress, like you suggested. Then, I look around the room and describe three objects to myself. Usually that's enough to get it to abate, but not always."

She did not know how to untangle her tongue so the words might flow. She felt like she'd boil inside from the frustration of it.

How could she express what it was to still feel phantom hands on her skin—to feel pinned down and unable to move at random moments? Would the world look at her the same if his hands had left permanent burn marks on her skin the way they had on her mind? She did not know how to point to where it hurt because it was nowhere and everywhere, and it could have been worse.

But then all the ways it could have been worse shredded through her mind like claws. Because those things could still happen. She was in a prison of her own mind inside of a prison of her own choosing, but she refused to leave Rainer behind, and she'd worked too hard for peace to allow Vincent to destroy it.

"Maybe I just need to be more stubborn than the fear. "

"I wish it were that easy," Magdalena said. "I think perhaps you have to forgive yourself."

"Forgive myself?" Cecilia said, baffled.

Magdalena nodded. "I think you blame yourself. You think you should have or could have done more. You must forgive yourself for any weakness you felt in that moment."

The words were sobering, confronting. Any hint of relaxation from the whiskey she'd had earlier was gone now.

"How do I do that?"

"If I could give you a shortcut, I would," Magdalena said. "It might simply take time for you to find the entry point into forgiveness, but it will happen. You have to have faith in yourself. You never doubt your ability to heal others, but now it seems you have nothing but doubt about your ability to heal yourself."

Cecilia stood. "I think I need some air."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You've been brave to try what we've suggested. You've come a long way already and I'm here for you when you need to talk," Magdalena said.

Magdalena's warmth made Cecilia miss Aunt Clara. It wasn't lost on her how fortunate she was to have so many women who lifted her up when she was hurting.

Cecilia hugged Magdalena and left the healer's suite. The candles guttered, sending shadows scattering over the wall as she walked down the hallway and shoved the heavy door open. She stepped into the cold night air. The guards shifted at her presence outside, but none tried to stop her. Rainer had probably scared them all to death.

Fresh snow crunched beneath her feet, dulling the sounds of the garden. There was a pervasive stillness that settled into the evening now that the storm had blown out.

She walked along the path, taking in the flowers that looked as if they had been sprinkled with powdered sugar. Finally, she came to a bench. She sat, ignoring the way the snow seeped into her dress, chilling her backside, as she tilted her head up to the clear night sky.

Sometimes there was little left to do but make a wish and hope it came true.