The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(44)
She stiffened her spine. “They do not want to learn. Those skills are beneath them. They’ve been doing a few chores with their magic—but beyond that, I have no help. That is, until Lady Irene hired my friend Rachel, temporarily.”
She quoted her stepmother. “Either I help out in the home, for free, or they move into the Citadel and sell this home to pay for a servant.”
“They can’t do that.” Gerard uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in earnest.
“Unfortunately, they can.” She sighed, a headache beginning at her temples. “I’ve gone over the legal jargon a hundred times. My mother was bequeathed the residence upon her father’s death. In the event of her death, it was to go to her firstborn son. My father has no claim to the estate and unless I change my gender, neither do I. The estate can only go to a titled member of the family, like my stepmother. I didn’t inherit a title from my mother or her rich father.”
“Then why not move? Or marry someone of a high station who can turn around and buy the home?” The words hurt, despite the kindness in his eyes.
“I have little hope of making a good match; my dowry is minimal. Which means I could end up with a foul man for a husband who wouldn’t care for my ancestral home or my father. I’d rather be on my own.
“This is the only way I become free, buying this house.” The truth poured from her like steam from a kettle. “My father has no title to pass on, I have no male relatives to lean on, and marriage would ensure I leave the estate to the greedy hands of my step-family. Buying the house is the only insurance I have for the future.”
“It’s a poor estate, soon the price of upkeep would leave you on the streets.” Gerard sat back, a pensive squiggle creased his brow. “It’s a miracle your step-family can still afford this home.”
Ellie looked at the cracked plaster and worn furniture, the subtle whining of the wind as it funneled through holes in the stone. Home.
“This used to be a formidable estate.” She pointed to the sketches lining the kitchen walls. “My father drew those in his younger years. Before my mother’s death they had profitable harvests, award-winning pumpkins, cider that was rivaled in neighboring kingdoms.”
“After her death?” Gerard asked softly.
“My father lost interest in caring for the home they’d created. Even a child in need of a father did nothing to appease his heartache.” She closed her eyes on the painful truth.
Gerard stayed silent at his corner of the table. She took solace in the quiet reflection, knowing when she opened her eyes and saw his face, she’d never be able to forget the pity. The disdain.
“Aren’t you mad at him? Your father?”
“Honestly? I’m too tired to be mad. But yes, when the servants talked about how different he was, how despondent. I hated him. Then I realized, he must have loved my mother like crazy, to have fallen so far since her death. I’m grateful my parents loved each other.”
She paused before focusing on happier thoughts. “I want to rebuild the estate, bring it to its former glory. Before…well, before my world fell apart and I lost everything.”
“You want to do something great with your life. Impart meaning and beauty.”
She opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. His wide green eyes bent at the corners, tugged down in sadness. The expression mirrored her pain.
“Yes,” she whispered.
***
Gerard picked his way through the pumpkin patch and entered the small shack he and Edward had built, the whole while thinking about Ellie’s admission. She wanted to leave the world a better place than she found it. Cheats and liars didn’t do that.
They had spoken about the hex and her suspicions. He knew she wanted to point the finger at Lady Olivia but lacked the concrete proof. He’d been watching the lady in olive as well and had yet to figure out how she marked her victims.
Touch? She hugged many of her competitors in a show of support, but he’d never seen her interact with Valerie and Marie when they had elected to join the competition. How was Olivia cursing the women?
He knew a little of hexes, having nearly been cursed after bedding the wrong woman’s daughter in a different kingdom. The mother in question failed only because he refused to drink the beverage she’d offered him. He’d been hungover and the last thing he’d wanted was the vile concoction she’d wafted under his sensitive nose.
Was Lady Olivia getting the contestants to imbibe? There had been much celebrating. Perhaps she slipped a potion into teas or glasses of wine?
His head pounded. It had been a few nights since he’d worked on his celestial project and though tonight was clear, he didn’t have the time to stare into the heavens. With a sigh, Gerard blew out the candles in the shack and headed out, careful to lock the makeshift door.
Cool air tunneled through the trees and heavy branches swayed in the waxing moonlight. A crow or raven circled overhead. Its sleek body gliding across the moon like a phantom. A whisper of unease skated down his spine.
Damn superstition.
He squared his shoulders and marched through the mucky field to the forest’s edge. Limbs creaked and night insects chirped as he stalked through the darkness. He felt watched and it filled him with dread. His stomach knotted as he peered into the murky shadows along the path. Nothing moved.
No lit eyes staring back at him from the inky woods.