Could those marks have been left by a pursuing nix or nixe’s claws after the baroness’slastattempted venture against the supernatural denizens of this forest? If so, her escape had been narrow indeed. Regardless of their source, those marks were far too deep to be fully painted over—and yet, for all that the woman reeked of pride and had taken great care with her appearance in the mirror, she hadn’t had those expensive carriage panels replaced.
Nor did any footman stand ready to open the door for Margaret now, as the dour-looking coachman held the horses’ reins from his perch atop the carriage.
Fashion had never been of any particular interest to Margaret, but she had been forced to spend far too much time in high society over the past few months, deprived of her studies and left to exercise her brain on banal social observations. Now, as she stepped awkwardly high into the carriage, with no lowered steps to aid her, she found visibly mended leather seats and worn velvet window curtains inside—and added all of those new observations to the information she already heldabout her enemy.
Her husband might be the expert in their marriage when it came to social interactions, but she knew how to think and learn from her mistakes. Just this once, she would make it a top priority to analyze another human with all the skills she’d learned over years of study.
Everyonehad a weak point somewhere...and the baroness was clearly desperate to regain both the wealthandthe social standing that she’d claimed, earlier, to be hers by right of birth. Margaret might never like or respect the woman, but she understood both the power of driving ambitionandthe need to be recognized by one’s peers. So, when she stepped out of the carriage again, just over twenty minutes later, she was no longer a frantic and furious wife on a desperate mission.
Instead, she was the notorious Lady Riven whose presence had been fought over by society hostesses across the continent, and she held her head high as she left the carriage with all the confidence that Lord Riven had modeled for her in countless Parisian ballrooms.
If there was anything she had learned in the past few days, it was that she couldneverbe perfectly safe from observation, so she sauntered forward with uncharacteristically perfect posture—and made certain to raise her eyebrows in visible disdain as she paused to look pointedly up and down the weathered yellow façade of the miniature castle that rose before her, its romantic turrets rising high above the tree line.
With its sunny original color, the ferociously regimented flower gardens between the castle and the nearest trees, and the innumerable curlicue embellishments that swarmed across every level of the building, it all presented a stark contrast to the dark and rambling coaching inn that hunched in the valley far below.
Margaret took careful note of every window that was blocked by curtains ...
And when the front door swung open to reveal her smirking hostess, rather than a butler, in the entryway, she seized the chance to begin her stratagem. “I take it you haven’t hosted many guests ofqualitylately?”
The words felt unbearably staged—for goodness’ sake, what rational creature could actuallycareabout such piffle?—but they had their intended effect. The baroness’s smug expression transformed into a scowl. “What guests ofqualitycould you possibly expect to find here, Lady Riven, buried in the back of beyond? The slavering wolf who owns your inn? That monster from nightmares who was lurking so pathetically by your side earlier?”
Margaret’s back teeth clicked together, but she funneled her rage into her performance. She had been at the mercy of social judgment so many times before. She knewexactlywhat it sounded like, and she forced her voice to shift into that disaffected drawl. “I take it you knew better than to appeal to any more distinguishedguests?”
“I invitedyou,” the baroness spat, “two nights ago. But as you weren’t courteous enough to attend or even respond...!”
Margaret raised her eyebrows in her best attempt at her own aunt’s most withering expression. “Do you have any notion how many invitations I regularly receive? One can hardly respond toallof them.”
The baroness’s face flushed with rage, even as Margaret almost choked on the inanity of her own words.
This artifice was unbearable!Surelythe falseness of her attitude had to be blatantly apparent?—
But with every moment that they stood here, safely outside the castle’s walls, the baroness was kept away from any dangerous truths that might be revealed in Reflection’s Heart—andfrom those curtains that could so easily be pulled to turn Margaret’s husband into dust.
Very few things could ever make idle small talk worthwhile, but saving his life ranked at the top of that short list.
“Was that why you so foolishly attempted to steal the nixen’s territory?” Margaret enquired. “You certainly must havealsohoped for some personal profit from that venture”—she dropped her gaze to look meaningfully at the baroness’s old-fashioned gown—“but was the most compelling factor simply that you were desperate to draw in the sort of human society that youthoughtyou deserved to enjoy here?”
“I do deserve it! It’s my family legacy.” As thebaroness stalked forward, the violent fury in her expression made her look far more unnerving than any resident of the inn ever could. “I was meant to be a princess!”
“I beg your pardon?” Margaret stepped back with a pained laugh, more than happy to give the appearance of retreat. Any move that drew the baroness further from her husband’s coffin was a victory. “I know this building looks like a toy castle, but?—”
“It was the monsters who ruined everything for me.” The baroness’s eyes took on a manic light as her voice turned into a near croon, as if she were reciting a myth of great significance. “Mygreat-grandmother was meant to be a queen.Allthe arrangements had been made. She was the most beautiful aristocrat of her generation, and she was betrothed to the Prussian crown prince himself. Her wedding gown held a thousand tiny pearls and her tiara was a thing of beauty. We would have been royalty forever after—and withsomany plans for Prussian expansion! But before any wedding could take place...”
“Oh.” Margaret’s eyes widened as shadows shifted in the distance, but she kept her gaze fixed upon her hostess—and the academic curiosity that was her own most essential element couldn’t resist putting together the clues. “I take it that was when the giants’ uprising occurred and the Prussian monarchy was ended?”
“Those animals destroyedeverything—even our home! We lost all of our propertiesandour fortunewhen we had to flee and leave our grand and glorious heritage behind...” The words came out as a near-wail of agony. “But when it finally came time formymarriage, we all knew it was our chance to fix everything. It should have been the perfect solution!”
More shadows slipped past in the distance as a bird flew out from the tree line to circle over the castle’s closest turret. A low, haunting note breathed through the air, almost too soft to be carried through the breeze.
Margaret stepped forward swiftly, before the other woman could be distracted. “You thought moving to the ‘back of beyond’ to live surrounded by the forest and its supernatural creatures wouldsolve everythingfor you? You truly must have been blinded by love for your husband.”
“Don’t be absurd!” The baroness snorted contemptuously. “My mother hadthoroughlyresearched my fiancé’s family. For all that his own fortune was pitiful, his family held the ancient titles to all the land around here for fifty miles. They’d only been too apathetic to do anything with it in centuries.Hepromised, when he was courting me, that he would do everything in his power to make me happy—so the moment we were wed, Itoldhim it was the perfect moment to take up that family claim once more, chop down the encroaching forest, and finally seize the power we were always meant to wield!
“But hedidn’t keep his promises.”
“It...is important to keep one’s promises,”Margaret said weakly. Curse it, why wereso manycurtains in the house pulled tightly shut? And why did they all look the same color from this angle? It was impossible to know what was happening inside...or even which room held her husband.
The baroness certainlyseemedto have used up almost all of her money on that failed venture in the woods—she hadn’t had a spare footman for the carriage or even a butler at the door—but she must have at least one strong manservant to help her transport Lord Riven from the inn to her carriage in the first place, and who knew how many other servantswerestill lurking inside the house? If any of the others made a mistake...
