“Now go before they send people around the outside. And don’t be seen,” she says.
I turn and force myself to walk away when what I really want is to throw her over my shoulder and bring her with me. It’s tempting, but if I rob her of this chance to find out the truth, if I risk my own shot at vengeance, I would never forgive myself.
I take one last look back at my wife. She stands in the window, watching me retreat with the fire poker braced over her shoulder and her bright red lips twisted into a smirk.
I can’t believe I’ve done the one thing I thought impossible. I fell in love with my wife.
59
HARLOW
My parents are relaxed when they enter the dining room. My father has a whiskey in his hand and my mother sips her wine. I almost prefer this unassuming version of them. It’s good to know their guards are down.
If I had the gift of distance, I would think they make a handsome couple. My mother with her raven hair twisted away from her face and fastened into a chignon at the nape of her neck, balanced out by my father’s swiftly graying hair that’s combed into neat waves. Her pale silver dress glimmering in the candlelight, playing off the shimmering charcoal of the vest my father wears under his jacket.
Up close, I can clearly see the ugliness. The hungry look in their eyes and the cruelty in their smiles.
“Did you hear what Mary Varyss said about Rafe? That he’s a traitor to the living? And that group of unblessed protesting outside the North Hold gates—it’s already spreading like wildfire,” my mother says as she takes her seat and notices that Henry isn’t beside me. “Where is that husband of yours? I don’t know how he did it, but he must have said the perfect thing last night, and now the rumors about Rafe are everywhere.”
Just hearing his name makes my blood boil, but Rafe is a problem for tomorrow. Today I have more pressing things to deal with.
“Henry had something to attend to this evening, but I invited Kellan,”I say. “I know he’s so busy with the festival, but I’m hopeful he can make the time. Family is so important, don’t you think?”
My mother frowns, clearly noting my sarcasm, while my father rings the bell beside him to signal the servants.
A moment later, the dining room door swings open and the servants bring in the soup, placing a bowl in front of each of us and a cover over a fourth plate at the seat beside me.
I watch them hustle away, whispering excitedly to each other, but my parents don’t notice. They never pay attention to the unblessed servants because they think it’s beneath them to acknowledge the help. If they did, they might wonder why the servants were so excited. They might ask and discover that with Able out for the evening, and just the three of us here for dinner, I offered to bring out the rest of the staged dinner courses so the servants could enjoy the festival for once.
They were all too happy to have a night off.
I take a few spoonfuls of the soup and lean back in my chair to watch my parents eat. This hearty beef stew is my father’s favorite, and he shovels it into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten all day.
It’s so ordinary—the three of us here having dinner, the room lit by the fireplace and the shimmering glow of the glass chandelier overhead. I have sat at this table so many times before, but tonight it feels different.
“What do you have for us?” he asks, stirring his soup. “And where is Gaven?”
“Gaven is dead.”
Both of my parents freeze.
“How?” my father asks.
“A blade to the chest. Some political opponent of the Havenwoods.”
My father’s dark purple eyes light with interest. “Stefan Laurence?”
I should not be shocked by anything at this point, but somehow I am. “So you already knew what was happening at the fort?”
“Yes,” he says. “We’ve known for a few years that they were back up and running and the Laurence family shares our vision.”
“And yet you still took the risk of sending me there when you had someone powerful in place? You let me marry a man who hates our family, fuck him in front of all their high houses, and subject myself to the very real danger beyond our city walls for what, exactly?”
My father sighs and looks at the ceiling as if I’m a petulant teenager. “Harlow, at your age I shouldn’t need to tell you that we all have made sacrifices for this family.”
“Have we? Which sacrifices have you made?” In order to have something to lose, he would need to care about something, but the only thing he cares about is his power. That’s why he’s lied and killed to keep it.
“I sacrifice daily with my strength and magic. You think it’s easy to channel enough power to light miles of the wall every night?” he snaps.
