The five minutes we wait for Marjorie to finish her tale are the longest of my life. As soon as the crowd applauds, I cross the room to the bar, tossing a handful of coins into the storyteller’s basket on the way.
Nicolina Laurence turns to face me. She’s Stefan’s aunt, and while I know she has no love for me and my family, she does believe in tradition and the chain of command.
“You’re not usually one for the listening, Henry. You’re a man of action. Or has your new love changed you already? Your chemistry was quite something last night,” she says, her voice laced with accusation.
My parents and I knew this would be the most perilous time for our plan. Not telling our people that this marriage is a sham, that we are using Harlow to bring her family down, made sense all those months ago. The more people who knew, the more likely someone would tell her. But now, seeing the faces of the wisest women in the fort with expressions ranging from anger to downright betrayal, I worry we miscalculated.
“My new wife is a fan of stories. I was hoping to bring her here soon,” I say.
I wait for her to say Harlow has already been here, but Nicolina purses her lips. “Shouldn’t you be busy entertaining her?”
“Yes. I’m actually here because I was supposed to meet a woman about some urgent fort business. Unfortunately, Harlow made me late.” I offer a smug smile.
Nicolina rolls her eyes. “What’s your woman look like?”
“She was wearing a red silk dress and?—”
“Blonde? Dark eyes?” Nicolina asks.
I nod.
“She seemed quite entranced by the tale of the Deathless?—”
Of course. Hundreds of possibilities, and it had to be that Divine-damn story that’s going to reinforce all of her prejudices about fort life. This is exactly why I wanted to choose the night we attended a story session—so I could curate Harlow’s experience.
“But she left a bit ago—wandered upstairs with Brennan Marley,” Nicolina says.
I force my mouth into a tight smile. My wife went upstairs with another man. If that man isn’t dead from poison already, I’ll kill him myself. The thought of Harlow kissing him?—
I shove down my rage. If I cannot manage one woman, the Carrenwells will have ruined my family for the second time in a decade.
“Thank you, Nicolina,” I say.
Turning back to my friends, I nod toward the hallway that leads to the boarding rooms. If Harlow kissed another man, I’m going to tie her to my bed for the duration of her time here.
My mind is a torrent of irrational rage. I don’t care about her, but I do need her, at least for the time being. If her recklessness ruins ten years of planning, I will ruinher.
When we reach the dark hallway, we find Brennan standing at the bottom of the stairs.
The very fact that he’s still standing means that Harlow didn’t kiss him, but I feel no less furious.
“Brennan, did you speak with a blonde woman in a red silk dress tonight?” I ask.
He instantly stills at the menace in my voice. “Yes, I spoke with her a little while ago.”
I’m so incensed. I fight the urge to strangle the man. He’s always onthe hunt for a woman to bed, but he has the sense not to knowingly go upstairs with my new wife. Then again, she was glamoured.
I lunge for him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and shoving him back against the wall. “Did you take her upstairs?”
He stares at me with wide eyes. “Yes, but I?—”
“Is she still up there?”
“No—”
I tighten my grip on his shirt. “Did you fuck her?”
The hall goes silent for a second, then the floorboards creak behind me, and I just know that Carter and Bryce are exchanging one of their wordless judgmental looks.
