The Broken Ones (The Malediction Trilogy 0.6)(52)

* * *



What seemed like hours later, a knock sounded on the door to my room and Pénélope entered, the gleam in her eyes matching the anticipation that had been growing in me throughout that time. Anticipation that had me on my feet, pacing back and forth even as I attempted to temper my thoughts.

It was late.

She was exhausted.

We’d both been through hell.

She was beautiful. There was no tempering of my thoughts as I took in the sight of her, evidence of her ordeal washed away with warm water and scented soap, her hair coiled into loose curls that framed her lovely face. She wore a blue silk nightdress that clung to every curve, and I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Her head tilted, eyes growing distant as though deep in thought. But I knew what she was contemplating were my feelings, which was exhilarating and horrifying. A smile grew on her face, then she was across the room, arms wrapped around my neck. She smelled like flowers with the faintest undertones of spice.

“Your mother is so kind,” she whispered.

I did not want to talk about my mother.

“And your servants. I’m not used to that.”

The wonder bordering on disbelief carved at my insides. That such a small thing – a thing I’d always taken for granted – would bring her joy spoke volumes to what she’d endured. But never again. I’d never let life be like that for her again. “Get used to it,” I said into her hair. “This is your life now.”

Anxiety pricked at me like a spider bite – not mine, but hers.

“You’ll never have to go back,” I said. “I promise.” And for once, the leaden weight of my word was welcome.

“Marc…”

I pressed a finger to her lips, wanting for her to begin her escape from the past now, with not another moment wasted on it.

Her lips curled against my finger. “You’d have me say nothing?”

“No,” I said, removing my finger so that I could kiss her. “Nothing at all.”





Chapter Twenty-One





Marc





The sounds and smells of morning came far too soon: the murmur of servants in the hallways, the faint clink of dishes, and the scent of cooking food filling the air. Pénélope was still asleep, tucked against me, her hair tickling my collarbone. The last thing I wanted to do was move.

But the worst thing I could do was ignore a summons from the King.

She stirred as I eased my arm out from under her, but then grew still as I settled the blankets over her shoulders. In the faint light of my magic, there was no mistaking the shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes. More rest would do her good.

I silently dressed, then eased out of the room, brightening my light only once I was out in the hallway. Following the smell of food, I ignored the urge to sneak out the back and went to find my parents.

But only my mother sat at the table, a steaming cup held delicately in one hand. “Your father has gone to speak with the Duke,” she said. “And His Majesty is expecting you.”

“I know.”

I started to leave, but then she said, “Sit with me and eat before you go, darling.”

Reluctantly, I tugged out one of the chairs, then selected a number of items for my plate though I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. Across the room, the piano began to play a simple melody, a lullaby I recognized from my childhood, her magic pressing the keys as though it were an extension of her fingers.

“Eat.”

I bit into a piece of bread layered with egg and butter sauce, one of my favorites, but the richness made me nauseous.

“How is Pénélope?”

I swallowed, the food sticking in my throat. “Sleeping.”

“Good. She needs to keep up her strength.” A note jangled harsh and loud, and my mother frowned. “She’s lived a difficult life in that house. Some villains are born. Some are made. édouard is both. As is his mother.”

It was strange to hear my mother speak so familiarly about the Duke d’Angoulême, which made me wonder how well she knew him. How much contact they’d had in the past.

“I understand your choice, Marc,” she said, setting down her cup. “You wish to keep her safe. And even if her life were not in danger, bonding always has an allure for those deeply in love. It is the pinnacle–” she lifted her hand high “–connection that can be achieved between two hearts. An ultimate and unalterable commitment in our world where loyalty flips on the turn of a coin. But…”

I couldn’t help flinching at the word, because no good ever came from it.

“But you are my son, and I fear the danger your choice has put your life in.” The music ceased and she pressed a hand to her temple for a moment before turning her face to me, her magic brushing my cheek. “No parent wishes to outlive their child.”

Her unseeing eyes turned liquid with tears, and my stomach twisted with guilt. “Mother…”

“Shhh.” Rising, she came around the table, pulling me against her. “I am terrified for you, Marc. As is your father. But above all, I wish for you to be happy and to know love, so for the sake of that wish, I will try to be brave.” Bending, she kissed my forehead in a way she hadn’t since I was a little boy. “Now go. You shouldn’t keep the King waiting.”