One of the sleeves of my dress had to be sliced open to allow for my cast, and Alex wore large spectacles with black-tinted lenses to protect his eyes, but when all was said and done, we were married and together, exactly as we’d wanted.
“This certainly isn’t how I’d envisioned our wedding night,” Alex admitted once we were brought into his chambers, after an intimate, subdued dinner with family and friends. Most of our invited guests had already begun their travels to Bloem on thatterrible day, not realizing they would witness a wedding, then remain for five funerals.
The services were set for tomorrow.
Alex had decided both Viktor and Julien would be buried in the family earth, their remains joining generations of Laurents, accepted in death as they had not been in life.
“No?” I asked, stumbling from the bathroom toward the bed. I ought to have been nervous for him to see me so exposed in my new nightdress—a beautiful gown of thin lawn cotton, bedecked in ribbons and dainty stitching—but my ribs ached too much to worry on it.
Frederick had already moved Alex out of his chair, propping him up on a mound of pillows. He’d pulled the bedsheets over his chest and was looking in my general direction.
“It’s too dark to even see you,” he complained, removing the tinted glasses and squinting against the light of a single candle.
It was one of Annaleigh’s candles. The staff had taken pains to remove each and every one of Gerard’s pink tapers from Chauntilalie, burning them all—and every last canister of poppy tea—in a bonfire far from the house.
“I know, without a doubt, you must be a ravishing sight, but it would be nice to have confirmation of it as well.”
I eased myself into the bed. My wrist throbbed, and I’d never been more exhausted in all my life. I collapsed onto the pillows beside Alex.
“You ought to rest,” I said, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
“I know many people say to begin as you mean to go forward,but I promise you this, Lady Laurent, not every night of ours will end before ten o’clock.”
“No?”
“Oh, no.” He kissed my forehead and I curled alongside him, careful not to bump against his injuries. “I promise you here and now, our nights will be long and lovely. Full of kisses and starlight.”
Stars…
My dreams that night bordered on nightmares. In them, I ran through the deserted halls of Chauntilalie, searching for Alex. The air was filled with the cries of the babies and peacocks, and above it all, the triumphant cackle of Viktor, believing he’d won at last.
I tried escaping into the secret passages, tried running down stairwells and corridors.
Everywhere I turned, he was there.
I startled awake with a gasp, sodden and sweaty and blinking with confusion at the soft gray light of the room. A ray of morning sun had managed to slip through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the space enough for me to see that I was in bed alone.
Curious, I sat up, peering about the space.
I spotted Alex laid out on the chaise, attempting to read a book. Frederick must have come and gone while I dozed. Alex angled the book toward the window, catching the pages in the meager light.
“I thought you were meant to be resting,” I said, greeting him, my husband. A thrill wriggled through me at the thought.My husband.
“It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can accomplish,” he said before lowering the book to look at me. His smile was warm and bright. “Good morning, wife.”
My lips rose, warm and content. “Good morning, husband.”
His dimples flashed before he returned to his reading, absentmindedly crossing one ankle over the other.
Drip. Drip.
Drip. Drip. Drop.
Far beneath the bones of Chauntilalie, rainwater trickled down the walls of the Laurent family crypt. The door opened and five women dressed in gauzy blush-colored robes and spangled headdresses entered, carrying with them baskets of seeds. Even at the height of spring, their breaths puffed frostily in the chilly air.
They were the Sisters of the Ardor, postulants of Arina, come to deal with the bodies of the dead.
Each deceased was laid out on a slab of marble. The polished stone trapped the cold temperatures of the crypt, helping to slow down the unpleasant realities of the decomposition process.
