8. Scarlett

CHAPTER 8

SCARLETT

The irritating clink of a spoon against delicate porcelain has me flinching in my seat.

"Have you been listening to a word I've said, Lady Scarlett?" my guest of today's morning tea barks.

Duchess Rinhold doesn't look amused that I haven't been paying attention. She tilts her head, sending a cascade of her loose curls tumbling over her shoulder. Her hair is done up in the latest style, threaded with dozens of pearls and gems that boast the wealth of the Rinhold family. My own hair is laced with silver, but I have none of the embellishments, making me feel plain next to her.

Her corset is stuffed over a skirt made with layers of muslin and silk that frill around her petite form as she perches on the edge of her chair. She must be around my mother's age, but she doesn't have a single wrinkle on her face. Her golden hair is a crown of ringlets that seem to burst from the style pinning them down, making her look elegant and youthful. She has pale blue eyes that are startling more than striking, giving her a wide-eyed, alert appearance.

Or maybe that's just the evidence of too much magic bleaching her irises. Women in the Magic Sector wear their magic just like they do perfumes or makeup—except this brand of indulgence seeps into the skin.

The biggest reason I've stayed away is that I'm aware of how addictive the expensive tonics can be.

I'm aware of the anti-aging properties of certain elixirs obtainable in the Magic Sector. It's not quite immortality, but a woman like Duchess Rinhold can surely afford a bottle or two—as well as the supply needed to keep up with any ensuing addiction.

She's watching me pensively, her perfectly shaped brows finally arching on one side when I don't answer her.

I want to, but it's difficult to focus every time my mind shifts back to the erotic dream I had last night.

I can't stop thinking about it.

My palm falls to the spot just above my navel. The tiny wound still stings beneath my corset, and even though I can't feel it through the boning, I can't stop resting a hand on my stomach.

The blood had vanished by morning, making me wonder if I hallucinated the wound and the accompanying stain—but it still feels like there's a cut on my skin.

Everything about the dream had felt real, leaving me aching in intimate places well into my waking hours.

I cross my legs to stem the throb that doesn't seem to have completely gone away.

I've decided that I've finally snapped after so much pressure. That, combined with the side effects from a courtship blood contract, and my brain is just trying to make sense of things.

"Apologies, Duchess," I eventually say with my smoothest, most elegant voice. My voice training comes in handy when I'm feeling flushed and laying on a thicker accent native to the city than I normally would. The dialect in the Magic Sector seems stronger on that front, anyway. "I'm afraid I'm feeling faint," I tell her, and I know I'm convincing because it's not a lie.

I do feel faint. I haven't slept. And despite the circular trays of finger sandwiches and silver bowls of fruit for today's breakfast, I haven't eaten. Attempting it might just suffocate me entirely because my backup hosting corset is even tighter than my others, given that it was fitted for me years ago.

Duchess Rinhold offers me an empathetic smile and pats my other hand, which is on the table. I had been reaching for my tea, but now I awkwardly flatten my palm against the surface as she makes a show of consoling me.

She thinks I'm overwhelmed by the honor of a courtship with her son. Her thoughts are written all over her face.

Poor dear. She probably has no sexual experience at all. A courtship with such a sexually active man as the future Duke of the Rinhold family must be too much. Her father should have better prepared her. My Edward will be watched too closely to make use of his mistresses for at least the first year or two. She's going to have to step it up if she's to produce an heir.

I can't hear her voice in my head, but I still somehow know what she's thinking.

Like the Earl of Rinhold's first name being Edward—a fact I've never come across before.

And the better known detail that he's apparently a sexual deviant.

That, rumor can confirm.

It's a bit unnerving how she thinks of her son as some sort of prized stud and I'm a mare to be bred. But when it comes to my experiences, her thoughts couldn't be further from the truth.

I'm not na?ve. And if anyone had prepared me for the realities of marriage, it was the creature in my dreams.

My cheeks heat as I wonder what she might say if she knew I was feeling faint due to reliving the most intense orgasm of my life, which had happened while I was asleep.

"Yes, of course you're feeling faint, my dear," she says with a gentle tone as her fingers skitter up my arm and trail around the three red scars still embedded in my skin. One will disappear tonight and has already started to fade. "You're still wearing the countdown marks, and I know they can take a toll," she adds, hinting that she, too, found her husband by means of a blood contract, "but you best get used to it. You'll wear more, each numbered for the days of courtship when the timer starts anew."

My eyes widen.

I did not know that.

"Where?" I blurt. The three slashes have already taken up my entire forearm. I'm not sure where I'd fit thirty.

She shrugs. "It varies. Rumor is that they'll appear on your erogenous zones, but they'll be less dramatic. Don't worry."

She doesn't confirm if her marks had been on her erogenous zones, not that I'd want to know either way.

A swallow sticks in my throat. "Erogenous zones?" I repeat.

Dear Cain, does she not even know what the word means? her narrowed eyes seem to say.

"I assume you don't know where yours are," she says aloud instead, thankfully not defining the word for me as she continues, "but it gives your suitor something to work with." She smiles at me as if that should inform me of the word's definition, then pats me again. "The Magic Sector has a lower fertility rate, but it doesn't mean you can't get started right away once you're wed." Her long lashes flutter as she sips her tea, giving me a moment to digest the news that I'm supposed to produce a child as soon as possible. She finally looks me right in the face. "Your family has done well to keep you pure, but a lack of experience might provide frustrations for a new couple. Wouldn't it be helpful if things could be… enjoyable? Hence the placement of the marks among your erogenous zones so that you don't have to say a word." She gives me a soft smile. "Perks of a blood contract, dear."

The Duchess's crude conversation doesn't faze me. I am fully aware of the expectations of a married woman in an Elite family.

My cheeks heat for an entirely different reason.

Am I to assume that Earl Rinhold cares so little of female anatomy that he needs a road map of how to make me orgasm? The figment in my dreams didn't need any guidance.

Why do I keep comparing the two?

My dreams aren't real. Earl Rinhold very much is.

"Did I hear something about erogenous zones?" a silky male voice asks as the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life walks through the doorway.

I blink up at the gorgeous specimen of a male, staring for a bit longer than I should, but I can't look away.

I had not expected Earl Rinhold to be beautiful .

Rumor had circulated of his attractive appearance—likely enhanced by magic at birth—but rumor can't always be believed. No one looks like the culmination of every woman's desire made into flesh.

In this case, though, the rumor seems to be accurate. That's exactly what he looks like.

His face is perfect. His blond hair has a note of his mother's curls, but it's charming on him as it frames his gentle eyes.

He's wearing the latest fashion of velvet and stripes that flared up two weeks ago. A royal blue embroidered vest is fitted to his muscular but lean form, betraying that it's tailored to perfection. The vest's design matches the blue stripes down his dark pants. Even the metal buttons on his polished boots have a blue tint.

My gaze doesn't know where to settle, so I find myself admiring his face again.

"Don't let my mother intimidate you," he says as he grips the back of her chair and leans in to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. He lowers his voice as he chides her. "No frightening my future bride, please, dear mother." His marble-blue eyes flick up to meet mine.

The simple gesture has my stomach doing flips as he gives me the faintest of smiles.

Somehow, that smile makes him even more attractive. There's a kindness there that seems almost fabricated, too sweet to be real.

No one is this perfect.

He doesn't keep my gaze for long. Like a true gentleman, he breaks eye contact first to give me a sense of security.

To let me think I'm the one in control.

This isn't the terrifying, ruthless Earl Rinhold of rumor.

And, most interestingly of all, he doesn't seem to be hiding anything.

There's no secret agenda written in his features. There are no inner thoughts bleeding out through his eyes.

Which is a first. Every time I meet someone, I see the image they try to present, but I can also sense what they're really thinking, as if I'm looking through broken glass.

I can glimpse who they really are underneath the surface—but Earl Rinhold doesn't seem to have another layer to view.

No. This can't be right. Everyone has a mask.

It's a strange thing for someone with my affliction to meet another person who is exactly who they present themselves to be.

Maybe it's confidence? I wonder, trying to make sense of it.

Because I know not to doubt my abilities. My affliction is that I'm originally from a village, meaning I've been genetically modified and my bloodline is the result of generations of experimentation.

Something my brother likes to remind me of when I don't give in to his demands.

But it's the memory of my father that rises to the surface first, bobbing on an ocean of the past.

"What do you see, Scarlett?" he asked. I remember my father bringing me to a dark place with lots of people. I couldn't have been older than six or seven.

But he was testing me.

"Never let them know what you can do," my mother had said in one of my earliest memories.

"Just a bunch of men, Father." I gave him the answer I'd been told to give.

Give them nothing.

He seemed relieved at the time, but I learned something about myself that day.

Because I had seen something in that room. Some men had been out of place, their eyes the wrong color and their thoughts terrifying enough to make me wary of men in general.

But the Elite City was made up of different kinds of men. One of them had been thinking about slitting my throat just to settle a debt with my father.

Mysteriously, he died not too long after that night. But I imagined my father had various ways of settling his debts—ways that I hadn't been ready to accept until now.

The things I'd written about him in my notebook had broken my heart, but I wasn't lying to myself about my father anymore.

He's a man, just like the rest of them.

I tilt my head as I watch Earl Rinhold draw up a chair and strike up idle chatter with his mother. He's giving me a chance to observe him, one I take full advantage of.

He's not like the men I remember from that night.

Earl Rinhold is gentle and charming. The air around him seems lighter when he grins, and I can't help but watch him as my curiosity blooms.

He slips his fingers through silky blond hair that immediately bounces back into stubborn, wavy curls. His stormy blue eyes are mesmerizing, seeming to change color with the light like mine do. They were definitely marble blue earlier. He steals a glance, giving me one of those faint smiles again, before responding to something his mother had said.

No matter how hard I try, I can't read him at all. Normally, some sort of thought pops into my head, some flutter of emotion or hidden agenda.

There's just… nothing.

My ability is one that comes from my background, but it's a secret that only my mother knows about.

A secret that she'll take to her grave.

Grief swells in my chest before I push it down. I cover my emotion with a cough, and I dab my lips with my napkin before putting the cloth back onto my lap.

I need to visit her before I leave.

It might be the last time I see my mother ever again.

"She's overwhelmed, the poor dear. You'll have to ask her again, Edward," Duchess Rinhold says. Her tone has sharpened like a blade, drawing my attention enough for me to pull out of my own thoughts.

Earl Rinhold doesn't seem put off in the least. Instead, his eyes brighten when I finally look at him. "You're quite beautiful, Lady Scarlett. Is red hair a recessive gene in the Nightingale line?"

My eyebrow inches upward. Even though I'm unprepared for the personal question, I have an answer ready. It's not the first time my legitimacy as an Elite member has been questioned because of the unusual color of my hair. "Would you like to see my papers, Earl Rinhold?" I glide to my feet with trained elegance. "If you'd like to follow me to the study, they're?—"

He stands and offers me his hand. I don't take it. "Please, Lady Scarlett. I was not questioning your origins. I wanted to know if…" An adorable blush warms his cheeks, making his eyes look brighter as he smiles, then he looks down. "Presumptuous of me, perhaps, to bring it up so early. I'm just asking about children." His gaze flicks up to mine, trapping them in the storm of his sapphire irises. "Perhaps they will have red hair like yours?"

I furtively blink at him, not sure if I should be offended or flattered.

He is already thinking about children?

Nothing about him gives away anything more than what he's said. The silence of him unnerves me and fascinates me all at the same time.

"Was that really your question, Earl Rinhold?" I ask as he finally pockets the hand he had been offering.

He hums before he answers. The sound does funny things to my insides that I try not to think about. "No, it seems I've fumbled my way off topic." He licks his lips, looking at me with boyish charm before he speaks again. "Would you like to go to a fête with me, Lady Scarlett?"

"A fête?" I dumbly repeat.

Why am I a broken record today?

His mother clears her throat as she rises and flicks her fan open, then seems to beat the air with it. "At the Rinhold residence, of course," she adds as her curls brush over her shoulder. "In three days' time."

"For me?" I squeak.

Duchess Rinhold trills with an irritating laugh that's one octave too high. "Dear me, no. The Choosing for the Rinhold Village is in three days, child. Doesn't your family hold celebrations, too? The Nightingale Village's Day of the Choosing should be…" She counts off on her fingers. "Right, a little under a week from now. I haven't seen an invitation, so I'm going to assume it's a quiet affair for the Nightingales." Her eyes glitter. She knows my family can't afford a party, and she just demonstrated that she already knows the ins and outs of my family's business down to the Day of the Choosing on the train schedule. "You'll get plenty of fêtes of your own if you pass the courtship," she adds.

My cheek stings in the same place where my brother had struck me, but it feels like Duchess Rinhold lashed out at me with words rather than her hand.

And the sting is sharper for it.

She acts as if the courtship is some sort of test, one that I'll have to pass if I'm to earn my place as her daughter.

Earl Rinhold seems to have noticed that the blood has completely drained from my face—making me feel faint again—as he reaches out to steady me.

But when his fingers brush my arm, ice shoots through my system, making me yelp.

What was that?

Shadows blink into existence through every reflective surface, making me swear I can hear a growl rumbling through the room.

It's gone in a second, and I force myself to take in a shaky breath.

It's just like last night.

I'm losing my mind.

Earl Rinhold flexes his fingers, frowning as though he isn't sure if he should touch me again, then gently grips my elbow. My world doesn't flip upside down this time, and we both relax.

"My mother seems to have been incredibly rude and embarrassed me in front of my delicate bride," he says, sending a cold glare to the woman still fanning herself. There's a brief spark of the icy sensation I sensed a moment before, but it's gone in a flash and he's guiding me out of the room.

"Please forgive my mother. This is a trying time for her—she feels like she's being replaced," he says conversationally as he guides me down the hall.

I don't know where he's taking me. The only things in this direction are more drawing rooms and a locked hall that leads to the rest of the woefully under-furnished manor and our living quarters.

"She has every right to feel threatened, Earl Rinhold," I automatically reply. I've been trained on saying the right thing in the right tone and at the right time.

I know I've done all those things, but I'm still expecting some sort of backlash. The warm smile that Earl Rinhold gives me feels so different from the shock of ice a moment before, including the look he had given the Duchess.

"Please, call me Edward," he says with a conspiratorial whisper.

An unbidden blush heats my cheeks as I lower my eyelashes. "Edward," I say, sensing his pleasure as he squeezes my elbow.

Is this what flirting feels like?

He stops at the locked door to the rest of the manor and surprises me when he produces a key. "I bribed your lovely handmaiden for it," he says with a wink.

Of course Rosie would be susceptible to Earl Rinhold's charm. She was as afraid of him as I was, but now I know she's going to be waiting for me in my room to gossip well into the hours of the night.

I find myself looking forward to it. It's something a Lady would do and is also a pleasant distraction from my family's situation.

"Which one is your mother's?" he asks, making my skin prickle with warning.

It's not a secret that my mother is sick, but it wouldn't do for a member of the Rinhold family to see our weaknesses.

My future husband, I correct myself.

Edward.

"Third door on the right," I find myself telling him.

He gives me a nod, one that seems to show gratitude for my trust and not just the information.

When we arrive at my mother's door, he produces a small vial that glitters with silver.

My eyes widen.

"Place two drops on her tongue. It'll make her lucid enough for a conversation, but don't give her more, or else she'll become dependent. And I can't say I'll be able to procure more than this."

He presents the tonic, one that I was just thinking about earlier.

An anti-aging tonic, an elixir that is probably for cosmetic purposes, but it should work against illness, too.

Theoretically, anyway.

"Thank you, Earl Rinhold," I say as I take it and coddle the vial to my chest. It might be from lack of sleep, but the edges of my eyes sting, and I squeeze them shut to keep the tears in.

When I open them again, the attractive Earl is smiling at me. "Like I said, call me Edward, Lady Scarlett." He presents his hand, and I give him mine. He lifts my hand to press a small kiss against my skin.

My stomach flips, and I stay poised like that while his gaze lingers on mine.

This is definitely what flirting feels like.

Except, he's given me a tonic that's worth more than I care to think about.

If Earl Rinhold is trying to impress me, it's working.

"And you can thank me by accepting my gifts. I'll be sending a new dress for the fête, and it would please me greatly if you wore it," he says.

I hadn't agreed to go to the fête, but given that my courtship starts on the same day as the Choosing—an important event for families before Monsters Night, when selections are made that will determine our point earnings—I don't feel like I can rightly say no.

"I'll think about it, Edward," I say with a shy smile and just a touch of a proper Lady's dialect intertwined with my words.

But there's enough of me in the phrasing that I'm kicking myself.

I expect him to be vexed with me, but Earl Rinhold seems to like the display of my inner spirit.

"And I'll be thinking about you ," he says as he retreats from my view.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I watch him leave. Only when I'm sure that he's gone do I enter my mother's room.

No matter what happens, I'm grateful for this moment.

I'm grateful for a chance to say goodbye.