“She must be for you to bring her to meet me.” His face breaks into a heartbreaking smile that is undoubtedly how he convinced my mother to marry him. “Tell me about yourself, my girl.”
We discussed this before we came.
We all want to be honest with father. We want to tell him the truth of why Briar is here and what we think is happening to him.
When Briar perches on the side of the bed and takes his hand, I hold my breath and hope he believes us.
Chapter20
Risk
BRIAR
The Duke of Greenbell looks so much like his son that seeing him makes my chest ache, Hans’s image superimposed over his father.
Seeing him lying in this bed, imagining that it could be the man I have grown to care about so much? It’s become personal for me.
I have to save this man.
“Have you heard the story of the witch in the Whispering Woods?” I say softly, holding his cold hand in mine.
“Well, of course, my dear.” He’s got a soft, trusting smile on his face.
I hope that sticks around.
“I hadn’t until I met your sons. They stumbled upon my home and told me they had been looking for me. That was the first time I heard that there were stories about me and people to hear them!”
His eyes widen. “What are you saying, young lady?” Gerrit snorts softly at his stepfather calling me young but tries to play it off by rubbing his nose with his hand.
“I am the witch from the Whispering Woods.” I let my words hang in the room. It’s a lovely bedroom with high ceilings and wood-paneled walls. The bed is massive, with luxe fabrics of red and gold spread along it.
Lounge chairs sit by a window with a bookcase full of hardbound volumes.
But as beautiful as it is, it smells like death.
Death and magic.
“That’s preposterous,” he sputters, yanking his hand away. “That’s a child’s tale.”
“Many parts of it are, for sure,” I assure him. “But I am very much real. I’m not a witch, though.”
He tries to wedge himself higher but struggles, and Hans has to assist by propping him up with pillows. “Well, what are you?”
I look anywhere but him. Even though I do not know him, his opinion of me still matters because the boys care so much about him. I don’t want to see the judgment on his face. I know Hans and Gerrit support me, but that doesn’t mean anyone else will. “I’m a succubus—a type of demon. I don’t have magic. I am a magical being.”
“You brought a demon into my home? Are you mad?” the Duke yells at his sons. “As if I am not cursed enough with this illness, you condemn me with a demon?”
“It’s not like that, Father,” Hans pleads. “And the curse is why we brought her.”
“Mother tried to curse Hans,” Gerrit insists. “But there was a mistake, and the curse latched onto you. That’s why you’re dying. We think Briar can help. That she can save your life.”
The Duke sputters in indignation. “Your mother would never. She loves me. She loves Hans.”
Gerrit shakes his head sadly and sits beside the bed, reaching for his stepfather’s hands. “She wanted to get rid of Hans so I could succeed you. That’s why she tried to marry Hans off so he’d lose his title. When you wouldn’t agree, she tried to curse him. But instead of tying Hans’s life force to one of the plants outside the window, she tied yours. When that plant dies, so do you.”
The Duke shakes his head. His eyes are narrowed on me, and I know this is hopeless.
He doesn’t trust me.
