30. Cecilia

30

CECILIA

T he dress was a rebellion. For weeks, Cecilia had worn nothing but black, like she was in mourning. It only took one early slap for her to know that Vincent requesting she wear his colors was not a request at all.

Now, as Cecilia stood poised to descend into the ballroom in her sparkling white gown, she felt radiant, a bright star in a sea of dark gowns. The seamstress, Mariah, swore Cecilia to secrecy to preserve her and her family's lives. Cecilia was happy to keep her secret in exchange for the most spectacular and personal dress she'd ever worn.

Her breath hitched as she descended the stairs, the whole crowd turning to look at her. The song the small orchestra was playing ended and the only sound in the room was the soft patter of her silk slippers on the marble stairs.

Before Cecilia could reach the bottom, Xander rushed up a step to meet her. She placed her hand in his and he bent to kiss it.

"Love, you're so beautiful it hurts to look at you," Xander said. "Half the men in this room are staring at you and the rest are trying not to in front of their wives. "

Cecilia looked over his shoulder, searching for Rainer in the crush of people. "I don't need them to look at me. I need him to."

Xander led her toward the dance floor. "Trust me. He is."

"Different than the way he looks at Eloise?"

Xander smirked. "Yes. When he looks at Eloise he looks happy, but when he looks at you he seems miserable, starving, wrecked. I know that look well."

"Xander," she chided.

"What? It's true."

"That is a decidedly un-friendly thing to say," Cecilia teased.

"Perhaps you don't have the right kind of friends."

She laughed. "You are impossibly charming."

"I know." Xander sighed as if it was a great burden to bear. "We all have our lots in life. How do you feel?"

"I feel more like myself than I have in weeks."

"And who are you?"

Cecilia grinned at him. "Vengeance."

"Well, you look incredible. That dress should be illegal."

The compliment bolstered her, a sense of warm satisfaction settling in the body that hadn't quite felt like it belonged to her since the attack. Mika and Magdalena had assured her that it was all normal, but for Cecilia it was strange to feel so closed off. She'd dressed more conservatively than she ever had before, preferring pants over dresses, and heavy wool gowns that buttoned up to her neck over the scandalous ones she used to wear.

Tonight was the first night she'd worn anything even remotely revealing since the attack and she'd done it all to capture Rainer's attention and to stick it to Vincent, who insisted that she wear his colors all the time. She hoped it made the statement " Don't fuck with me ."

"The question is why do you look so exceptionally stunning?" Xander inquired.

She grinned. "Black doesn't suit me. Vincent can keep me captive, but he does not own me. I won't wear black as if I'm mourning. I won't perform as some sort of doll. There are parts of me that even he can't touch." Even as she said the words, she didn't feel as confident about them as she had in the past. Vincent had created fractures in a psyche she had only just begun to heal.

Xander's brow softened. "I simply worry you're provoking him. Even if you do look like a goddess in this dress."

She smiled at him. For a moment she forgot the past two years. All the war and loss and pain between them disappeared and there was just the beautiful, magnetic eyes and smile of the man who swept her off her feet. Though her love for him had shifted, perhaps even faded, it simmered beneath his gaze, as if ready to boil over with the proper attention. Perhaps that was the nature of old love. Maybe some love stories were short, some were long, and some had endings that would always feel a little raw and unfinished. If she thought too hard about it, it simply hurt.

Xander leaned close, his cheek brushing hers. "I'm not the only one who has noticed."

She followed his gaze to where Rainer stood across the room. Eloise was next to him, chatting animatedly to her friends. She looked gorgeous in a scarlet dress, but Rainer's gaze was set on Cecilia.

"Honestly, his pining now might be worse than it was when you and I first got back to Olney after the Gauntlet. And that was truly a pathetic time for him," Xander said.

Cecilia shot him a warning look, but Xander's gaze dipped to her chest.

"Now that I'm closer, I'm starting to see a story on this dress."

"Thank you for noticing," Cecilia said.

Xander smiled suggestively. "I particularly like your little doves."

She slid her hands to the place just above her breasts where two doves were stitched, diving down toward the golden scar on her chest. "Yes, they're a reminder to keep hope alive. To always return to courage in action and emotion."

Xander's lips parted and he nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but something across the room caught his eye. He left her alone for a moment, darting over to the small ensemble of musicians. He whispered something to them before he rejoined her on the dance floor, pulling her into his arms.

"Where's your wife, love?" she asked.

He nodded toward Eloise. "One is over there, staying in earshot of the couple of honor. The other is tucked safely in our suite as it seems she's a bit under the weather."

Cecilia grimaced. "Still? Did you give her the ginger tea I made?"

Xander nodded. "She says that Novumi women believe it's a good sign, that the child can steal strength from the mother. She expects it will abate soon."

The music shifted, sounding the first few chords of a Reldan.

Xander grinned at her. "For old times' sake? May I touch you?"

He was so good at reminding her that she might have no control over the situation she was in, but that she'd always have control over when and how he touched her.

"Yes."

Xander's fingers skimmed her bare back, just above the dip of her dress, before coming to rest flat against her skin. He drew her body against his. She held his gaze.

"Making Rainer McKay insanely jealous is one of my favorite and most practiced talents," Xander whispered. "If we want to draw him in, we need to raise questions in his mind. We need to prey on his jealousy. He still seems to have the instinct to protect you. Let's stoke that fire, love."

Xander pulled back and Cecilia gave him a wide, adoring grin before pushing her hips flush to his. Xander spun her into a dramatic dip.

She moved with him easily as she had so many times before, his touch familiar. She drew her leg out of the slit of her dress, hooking it over his thigh as they leaned to the side and took several steps back. She circled Xander, caressing him seductively before he pulled her back against him.

He dipped her low as the song ended before lifting her to her feet. He stepped back and took her hand to kiss it. Instead of kissing her knuckles as usual, though, he flipped her hand over and pressed his lips to her inner wrist and the crescent scar on her palm, the exact places Rainer loved to kiss.

Anger shot through her connection from Rainer and Cecilia smiled indulgently.

"You're still a wonderful dancer, Cece," Xander said with a wolfish smile. His gaze darted past her shoulder. "Guardian McKay, what a pleasant surprise."

Cecilia whipped around and found Rainer standing right behind her. Anger and confusion slid through their bond.

"Your Highness." Rainer offered the smallest perceivable bow. His gaze lingered on where Xander still held Cecilia's hand.

Xander remained wholly unbothered. "My love, you are a vision in white. Is she not, McKay?"

Rainer's gaze raked over her appreciatively. "Yes. You look lovely, Lady Reznik."

" Lovely ," Xander scoffed. "She looks like a goddess and there's not a man in this room who can keep his eyes off of her."

Rainer's eyes narrowed on the prince. His jealousy thrilled Cecilia but she couldn't tell if it was born of lust or something more substantial.

"Did you need something?" Xander asked. "I was just going to ask Cece to have a drink with me in the courtyard where it's a bit less stuffy—away from prying eyes."

Xander's words were so heavy with innuendo that Cecilia almost laughed.

"Shouldn't you be dancing with your wife? I'm not sure if the king would like Lady Reznik—" Rainer started.

"Don't be such a fun-sucker, Rainer," Cecilia said. "The king is busy, so unless you require my partnership for the next dance, I'm inclined to join Xan for a cocktail."

Rainer frowned at the nickname. He sighed in resignation. "Actually, I was hoping you would dance with me." His cheeks pinked slightly.

"And here I thought you'd be busy with your fiancée," Cecilia said .

Rainer appeared pained by the word. His eyes darted around the room.

"Oh, put the poor fool out of his misery, love," Xander said.

Rainer blushed again and Cecilia had to stop herself from reaching up to touch his heated cheeks. She'd seen him blush so rarely.

"I would love to dance with you," she said.

Relief shot through their bond and a smile broke over Rainer's face as he took her hand. He led her away from Xander—away from the crowd—to a quiet corner of the room.

"May I touch your back?" he asked.

She nodded and he wrapped an arm around her, pressing her body against his as he started to move her around the floor. There were fewer eyes on her than when she danced with Xander, but she felt Eloise's gaze like daggers in her back.

"Prince Xander was right," Rainer whispered. "Lovely is too small a word for how beautiful you look in that dress. You stole my breath when you walked into the room. You look like a star to wish on."

"And what would you wish for?"

He smiled tightly. "Restraint."

She brushed her fingers up his neck, running them through his hair, which was starting to curl.

"What would your wish be?" he asked.

"That yours didn't come true," she whispered.

Guilt and lust rushed through their bond. Cecilia could practically feel her back scald under Eloise's burning gaze.

"You look very handsome," Cecilia whispered.

She continued to play with the hair at the back of his neck. They'd danced that way hundreds of times, but she kept waiting for him to be uncomfortable with the intimacy and pull away.

Instead, Rainer pulled her closer, his gaze dropping to her lips as his thumb grazed the skin just above the top of her dress. It was such a relief to be close to him, to not feel panicked at his touch, to want more of it.

"Why do you want me?" Rainer's voice was almost pained .

Her eyes went wide. It was unlike him to be so forward.

As if reading her mind, his brow drew in with concern. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "That was too frank. Truth be told, you make me nervous, and I can't seem to shut up around you."

She relaxed against him. "Really? Why is that?"

He chewed at his bottom lip. "I'm not sure. You do something to me that I can't explain."

"A good something, I hope."

He relaxed slightly. "A very good something." He glanced toward Xander. "You and the prince seem inappropriately close at times."

"Does that bother you? Are you a paragon of propriety?"

Rainer looked startled. "No, I just wonder about appearances and what the king will think."

"I don't care what the king thinks, and as for everyone else, they've made judgments on me long before now. I find trying to change hearts and minds tedious and wasteful of my somewhat fleeting energy. This Unsummoner bracelet does enough draining on its own."

Rainer's green eyes were radiant in the candlelight. "I know that the king told you to wear black and you defied him. I know that when you defy him, you pay a price."

"And tell me, Guardian McKay—what is the price of spirit? Of integrity? Is there a price that would cost you your allegiance to your post? Can you put a price on dignity?"

He studied her as if seeing her for the first time.

"I refuse to be a prisoner no matter how gilded my cage," she said hoarsely.

His gaze was heavy with admiration as he spun her away, and then back toward him.

"I aspire to be brave with my hand and brave with my heart," she rasped.

He winced as if the words tugged on a powerful memory.

Remember me. Come on, Rain. End this madness. Please.

She repeated the words over and over in her head like an incantation, waiting for him to look at her with true recognition .

Instead, his eyes narrowed on hers. "Who are you?"

"I'm Cecilia Juliette Reznik. I'm a fighter and a witch. I'm many things."

She grinned, drawing back as the song ended. She instantly missed the warmth and comfort of his arms.

Rainer bowed and kissed her inner wrist and her scar. She wondered if he noticed he'd done it or if it was muscle memory.

He met her gaze. "I think you're a thief."

Cecilia arched a brow. "Oh?"

"I suspect you've robbed many men of their good sense. Perhaps a few of their hearts."

She laughed as she pulled her hand from his. "A girl can dream."

Rainer's gaze dropped to the embroidery of her dress. "I hadn't noticed before because it shimmers like a star, but your dress…" He stared at it. "It tells a story."

She ran her hands down her bodice. "It does."

He brought a hand to her shoulder, running his fingers over the intricate stitching. "Will you tell it to me?"

She nodded, turning her back to him. "It starts just above the buttons on the back."

She was suddenly aware of how he'd slowly moved her toward the edge of the room as they danced. There were far fewer eyes on them, though she could feel Eloise's from clear across the room.

Rainer's fingers brushed over the embroidery. "Four hearts, two pink, one pink and gold, and one silver, and a baby between them." He met her eye over her shoulder. "You were adopted?"

She nodded. "Then there's the bow and arrow. After watching me the other day you must know I have a singular talent for archery."

Rainer's lips quirked up. "And you're so modest."

Cecilia shrugged. "Why would I be modest when I'm the best? My father taught me. It was how we bonded. He was very proud of how quickly I took to it."

Rainer's fingers moved higher. "These golden sparkles must be when your magic showed up. But what is this, where the two hearts have golden threads between them? "

His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out. She sighed in frustration. Of course he didn't recognize their bond represented on the dress.

"You were bonded with a guardian to pursue the Gauntlet? Is this supposed to be a soul bond?"

"How do you know about soul bonds?" Cecilia asked.

Rainer shrugged. "I'm not sure."

She held her breath, waiting for some sign he remembered.

The crease in Rainer's brow softened. "The fiancé you lost—was he your guardian?"

Cecilia swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to be crushed by the weight of disappointment.

"Is that what it feels like? Like your hearts are tied together by strings?" Rainer asked.

"Sometimes."

Rainer's fingers moved higher, stopping on the stitching on her right shoulder blade. "This cave must represent the Gauntlet, but there are these pale pink roses and lightning over a pink and gold heart."

"That's when I met Xander," she said. "Then there are the two rings from our marriage and the star flowers for the hope the union brought both of us."

Jealousy surged through their bond and she almost laughed. Rainer's instinct to still feel jealous of Xander was interesting.

"You married him?"

"I did."

"But it didn't work out?"

Cecilia wrung her hands. She wanted to explain herself but the burning in her blood reminded her of the boundaries of her bargain with Cato. There wasn't much she could say.

His hand rested on her left shoulder. "And this dagger through a silver heart?"

"That's when I killed the god of war after he killed my father."

Rainer walked around to face her to continue the story.

"The doves were for my power to bring hope." Her fingers traced over the stitching resting on two golden rings pulled apart by silver sparkles. "And this is where the trickster god pulled Xander and I apart."

Rainer's gaze drifted lower. "Then what are the two hearts stitched together with golden roots growing between them?"

A lump formed in Cecilia's throat. That's where you anchored me to this world and dragged me out of the dark. That's where our love was stronger than death.

When she didn't answer he pressed on. "And this spot with the stars?"

She waited for him to realize the stars were raining down, like the ones in his story.

He met her eyes looking crestfallen. "You can't say."

She nodded. "But this golden moon represents my oldest scar and I had it stitched just below my newest one." She held up her left palm with its crescent scar before running her fingers over the golden scar on her chest, displayed prominently with the daring neckline.

Rainer's gaze was riveted to the scar on her chest. She wanted him to say something about the fact that it matched his—though it wasn't as if she'd be able to say anything back.

Cecilia swallowed thickly. "I have always found comfort in stories, and I used to tell them every night. I had them stitched onto my dress so I don't forget who I am while I'm becoming who I need to be."

Rainer bowed to her as the song ended, as if they'd been dancing instead of storytelling. "Well, I think it's a masterpiece."

"The dress, the story, or the woman wearing it?" she asked as his lips brushed over her crescent scar.

"All three," Rainer rasped.

Cecilia's eyes burned. She turned away to compose herself, and came face to face with Cato.

"No," she said firmly before the trickster could open his mouth.

"Little Dove, let me explain." He reached for her hand.

She recoiled from his touch, bumping into Rainer's broad chest.

"Is everything all right?" Rainer asked.

"Yes, everything is fine. I'll just be taking some air," she huffed .

She brushed by a confused Rainer as Cato called after her. She didn't stop. She grabbed a glass of bubble wine from a passing servant and darted out into the courtyard. The cold air cut into her at the same time as the memory of Teddy covering her with his cloak when she shrunk away from her engagement ball years before. The thought of him was enough to punch the air from her lungs.

Cecilia threw back the effervescent wine and tossed the glass over the stone railing to the garden path below. It shattered there, chasing away the stony silence.

"It's considered a terrible offense to turn down the hospitality of a god, you know."

Cato's voice startled her. She turned to look at him. He held out a white fur cloak as a peace offering. She took it and wrapped it over her shoulders.

"Well, you turned down mine first when I introduced you to the pointy end of a Godkiller blade and you chose not to stay dead," she snapped.

Cato chuckled.

She tried to breathe evenly but the wine had gone right to her head; since she'd been unable to eat much after being cut off from her magic, she was dizzy.

"I came to check in on you," Cato said.

"You're a little late and I told you to leave me alone and I meant it. You have always had a lot of nerve, but after—" She couldn't bring herself to say the words. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her nails into her palms to cut off the memory that needed no magic to be felt and relived every moment.

"You know I have to walk through the castle every day to ensure that my manipulations stick, but I'm here with you because I want to apologize," Cato said.

"I don't want to hear it and I don't want to see you," Cecilia snarled. "This is your fault. You finally got what you wanted. You broke me. Just not the way you expected."

Cato frowned at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I don't expect your forgiveness, but I feel compelled to say it anyway. "

"I have no absolution for you. You have no idea what it's like to feel that kind of terror and powerlessness. I wouldn't even wish it on you."

Cato looked surprised and wounded all at once. "I thought you a worthy adversary."

"And I thought you a common man. Only one of us was right," she said bitterly.

His quicksilver eyes studied her as if trying to determine if she was acting. He stepped toward her and she flinched.

"Don't think about putting a hand on me. I don't know what this new game is, but I don't want to play."

"Cece—"

Her eyes went wide at the tenderness in his tone. "No! Don't you dare! Don't you dare pity me! I'll not take pity from the likes of you. You created this. You cultivated it. You cared nothing for where the pieces would fall as long as you got what you wanted. You still don't."

"I do."

"I don't believe for one moment that you care?—"

"I do," Cato insisted, his voice sharp and sorrowful. "Of course I like my games, but I like to play a worthy adversary. I don't believe in abusing a physical advantage to demean someone like that."

She laughed bitterly. "And yet I'm still here with him—a prisoner."

Cato blew out an exasperated breath. It ruffled a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "Because of a deal you made. I did not orchestrate that; I simply bound it."

"So you think that absolves you from the circumstances I found myself in? You knew what I would choose. You found my weak spot and you used it. You let someone else break me. You let someone else mark me."

She clawed at her dress, hiking it up so Cato could see the glamour of Vincent's initials carved into her inner thigh. For his part, Cato looked genuinely startled. He didn't move, his eyes glued to the brand. The skin beneath the glamour had healed perfectly, but she wanted Cato to see the damage .

"Are you happy now? Do you feel victorious? Are you here to gloat?" she asked.

Cato paled. "This is not what I wanted?—"

"If this wasn't what you wanted, it wouldn't have happened."

The truth sucked all the air out of the courtyard and left none for apologies. Silence hung heavily between them. Cecilia let it hang, hoping he'd make a noose of it. Unfortunately, he had the good sense—or perhaps the centuries of experience—to know when to keep his mouth shut.

"You can claim you're here to apologize, but you only show up when you want something, so spare me. I have nothing more to offer you because everything has been taken from me. I spend my days under the control of someone crueler than I could have ever imagined, within arm's reach of the man I love, who doesn't remember me and probably never will—the same man who is about to marry someone else."

Cato opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

"The only thing keeping me going is that we have to win," Cecilia said. "For Marcos, for Olney, for Xander—who, yes, before you taunt, I still love and always will. I didn't sacrifice my father, my ability to have children, and my life to lose now, so whatever you want, I don't care. I have no patience for it."

She didn't need to look to feel Cato's surprise.

"I have no forgiveness to offer you. I want you out of my sight. So, tell me, what will make you accomplish that as expediently as possible?"

She turned to meet his eyes again. She could have sworn she saw regret in them, but she refused to believe Cato was capable of feeling anything.

Cato's eyebrows shot up at the question. He looked startled, completely caught off guard for once.

She'd seen him. He didn't know what he was striving for anymore. Becoming mortal had shifted his priorities, but his awareness hadn't caught up yet. It would have surprised her if he wasn't so predictable. She would have cared if her heart wasn't broken .

She never expected him to protect her, but she'd been shocked he'd allowed Vincent to hurt her in that particular way after taking such a strong stance on consent himself. She was furious with him.

Now, Cato was human and subject to emotions and impulsivity and, most of all, time. He had one lifetime, and he hadn't yet realized that he didn't care about the same things he once had. It was so incredibly common she could have died laughing if it wasn't so sad.

All of them had suffered so much for his gains, and they weren't even worth it for him.

"Get out of my sight."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he opened a fold in the air and stepped through, leaving nothing but the smell of pine and leather in his wake.

Cecilia's head spun. She was tired of being on her heels. Tired of keeping to herself. Tired of waiting for Rainer to come to her.

If she wanted him, she was going to have to push through her fear and go get him herself.