Why ask me that question in the first place? And how on earth did he do it? Was the tonic ineffective?
I suddenly feel like the biggest fool. I trusted him enough to believe he was giving me the correct tonic all along.
I need answers.
Luckily, Gemini isn’t the only one with them.
I find Belladonna in the living room, sitting on her green velvet couch, gazing out of the window. They sprawl so high that they make up a small portion of the ceiling, too, making the panoramic view that much more astounding. She changed out of her wedding clothes, lounging in a gold satin set with a matching robe, her red hair up in a loose bun.
Her eyebrows furrow when she hears me walk in, as if already apprehensive about what’s to come. I sit opposite her on the couch, and slowly, reluctantly, she turns her body to face me. The silence coils around us like a snake, fangs full of poison. But Belladonna does not cower, keeping her gaze steadfast, and waits for me to speak.
“You knew.” My voice comes out a lot weaker than I would have wanted, but I keep my expression hard as I wait for her to answer.
“Yes,” she says, followed by a slow nod. I think I’ll have to prod for more information, but after a tense beat, she adds, “In fact, I helped facilitate it.”
I blink in disbelief. My head feels full of cotton. Exhaustion washes over me, but I power through.
“The tonic?” I ask, having no other avenue to choose from.
She shakes her head. “The tonic does not work on us.”
“Us?” I grit.
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, as if I were being purposefully obtuse. “Those who carry our gods’ powers, of course.”
I push out a wry laugh. “Of course.” I drop my smile. “Thenwhat?”I seethe.
Belladonna’s lips thin at my tone, but she answers anyway. “I control the fertility of the chosen families—most specifically, the servants”—she shifts in her seat, showing discomfort—“to avoid unplanned pregnancies.”
“How ironic,” I hiss between clenched teeth.
She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her arms, avoiding my accusatory glare.
I’m reminded of the day Gemini brought me to Belladonna’s cabaret, the same day I idiotically agreed to give him an heir. I was so sure of my intentions that day, convinced I would never fall for Gemini.
Look where it got me.
Just a doll for him to play with however he chooses.
“Was that the purpose of his visit that day?” I finally ask, not caring to elaborate.
Just as I thought, she knows exactly what I’m referring to.
She nods, her gaze slowly sliding to meet mine. “For what it’s worth, I regret agreeing to it.”
“For what it’s worth,” I repeat, chuckling coldly. I narrow my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach at the loss of agency and control I’ve had to endure just this past month. “How long has Gemini known about the pregnancy?”
The thought that he’s been keeping such a monumental secret from me but still parading under the guise of consent has anxiety clawing up my throat.
She shakes her head. “He didn’t know. I only learned about your pregnancy today.” She pauses, seemingly thinking. “You weren’t pregnant when you came for high tea at Tinny’s.” She shrugs. “So, sometime between then and now, you conceived.”
That was almost two weeks ago.
I fight the urge to storm out, my emotions expanding dangerously in my chest, threatening to explode.
I reach for a damp strand of hair, toying with it as I try to regulate my current mental state. The edges of me are fraying, and it’s getting harder to stay whole.
“I would think there was a law written somewhere about both servants needing to consent if the fertility barrier was lifted. Or are all of you so lacking in morals that you disregard those laws entirely?”
