The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(8)

Pierce scowled and ducked away from Gerard’s teasing.

“I’m out for the night. Don’t expect to see me much tomorrow.” Gerard stalked off, intent on pouring over the astronomer’s notes until morning.

***

Ellie scrubbed the dinner dishes with fervor.

“MAM.” Even saying the acronym sent shudders of revulsion along her spine. She slammed her fist into the water. Droplets splashed along her gray dress, darkening the material.

MAM stood for Mothers Against Mixing. The group was run by a woman in her late fifties, the wife of a duke or a count or something. Her daughters had yet to marry. Rumor was that she hoarded her girls like pawns in a chess game. Searching for the right bloodline. The perfect magical pairing.

Ellie pursed her lips and dried off her hands.

The founder was most likely saving her daughters for the crown prince. Ellie shivered. This kingdom would crumble like dry cake if MAM wormed their way onto the throne.

The organization was one of the leaders in today’s movement to keep old magic illegal; claiming the old ways were too dangerous, too barbaric for these sophisticated times. To make matters worse, she clung to the idea that mixing non-magical people with magical people created magic-bastards. It wasn’t true.

Although Ellie had no magic, her case was a rarity. Most people born of at least one magic-wielding parent could produce the same level of skill. Unique cases popped up now and then of people like Ellie, the golden arts lost to them forever. While practitioners needed conduits to channel magic, the ability was stored in their blood like an ancestral brand. Even with the purest of gold, Ellie couldn’t create one sparkle of fairy dust—the easiest magic trick.

Gold wasn’t as powerful a conduit as the old ones. Most people who’d been able to squeeze out at least a tiny spell with old magic weren’t able to do a thing with gold.

A scream of finite terror crackled through the speaking line. Ellie froze and contemplated the valve with apprehension.

“Ellie!”

“Fruitcake.” Ellie peeled back the clasp and stood as far away from the earpiece as possible.

“A mouse!”

Violet. Ellie dropped the valve and slipped off her apron before bounding up the back stairs to the unused bedrooms.

Only the front of the manor was needed to house the Burbe ladies. Ellie slept in the cook’s old quarters off the kitchen, and her father slept wherever he dropped. Most often the settee in the south parlor. No one wandered into the cobweb-painted back wing. Ever. Ellie slammed her shoulder into the door at the top of the steps. The wood creaked and groaned as she forced it open. Inches of dust scraped along slivered wood.

The tunneled expanse of hallway before her betrayed little light. Violet stood at the other end, at an open bedroom door, candle in hand. The yellow ray of the flame teetered and shook as the young lady gasped for words.

Ellie ducked in and out of active spider webs to reach Violet. They stood side by side, staring into the dim interior of Lady Eleanor’s old bedchamber.

A sense of foreboding washed over Ellie, prickling the hairs at her nape. Gooseflesh trickled down her back. “What are you doing here, Violet?”

“Mommy wanted me to see if Eleanor had any dresses we could use for dances. Provided we update the fashion.” Violet peered into the room again. The candle trembled and a glob of wax melted onto the floor.

Ellie twisted her dress in her fingers, holding back words of anger. This is my mother’s room. If she had any dresses, they belong to me.

Violet continued, unaware. “But I saw…a mouse…a dreadful little thing.”

“You’ve scared it off with your screaming. I wouldn’t worry anymore,” Ellie called over her shoulder as she strode into her mother’s old room.

She walked to the center of the dark room. Sheets, gray with dust, covered the furniture like tired phantoms. Cobwebs tangled in the corners and along the gold chandelier. The bed sagged, no doubt the mysterious mouse’s home.

A sad tear, filled with loss and grief, dripped down Ellie’s cheek. She sniffled and wiped at the salty liquid.

“Come, Violet.” Ellie snagged a crud-covered candlestick from the dingy vanity and lit it on the flame Violet held. “It’s not that scary if we shed light on what we’re seeing.”

Violet only mumbled, lost for words.

The room did not get better. In fact, the more light Ellie shed, the worse everything looked. Gray. Dusty. Creepy.

“Eww.” Violet’s description of the armoire’s contents was poetic perfection.

Ellie passed her candle by the empty armoire. Rodent droppings littered the bottom of the closet, the gowns nothing more than plate-sized holes held together by frayed string.

“Let’s get out of here.” Violet snuffed out her own candle and padded to the hall.

Ellie sighed and nodded. She walked past the vanity and noticed one drawer stuck out. As if someone had closed it in a hurry and didn’t bother to check the latch. She brought her light to the spot. The dust hadn’t been disturbed.

She grasped the drawer handle, her curiosity insistent.

“Let’s leave,” Violet said in a voice laced with fear. “We’d best get out of here.”

“One second.” Ellie drew open the drawer.

Empty. It had once housed her mother’s jewels but Ellie had pawned them off in secret years ago to acquire money to buy the manor. Still, she made a show of opening the drawers to see if anything of her mother’s was worth saving.