Nobody's Goddess (Never Veil #1)(48)

I looked at my own overflowing bowl. I couldn’t summon the will to lift the spoon. I shoved the bowl forward.

“I left Alvilda out front,” I said, anxious to change the topic. “She was blocked from entering by … ” My gaze traveled to the statue-still specters.

The lord waved his hand, cutting me off. “I will take but a moment of your time this evening. Are you feeling well, Olivière? You have not yet touched your food.”

All eyes—visible and not red eyes, at least—fell on my full stew bowl and me. Even Father, I noticed, had finished at least half of his.

“I already dined with Alvilda.” It was at least half-true.

Elfriede furrowed her brow and pursed her lips but said nothing.

“Alvilda?” asked the lord tensely. “She is?”

My father moved to open his mouth, but one of the specters bent down and perhaps murmured something where I imagined the lord’s ear to be. So they can speak?

“Ah,” said the lord. “The lady carver. I can see now why there are so many … interesting … wooden trinkets about.” He motioned to the mantle above the fireplace, where I had haphazardly dumped this morning’s creations.

Ugh. Those weren’t my best work.

“Do you really think her a wise companion, Olivière?”

I felt a roar of fire grow in my stomach. “Alvilda has talent. She may get most of the village’s carpentry and carving work these days instead of my father, but I assure you it’s by his own deeds that he suffers in his trade as of late.” I sent a pointed look to Father, but he did nothing more than pick up another spoonful of stew.

Another wave of a gloved hand. “I refer more to the detail that she refused her Returning.”

My jaw dropped. “What business is it—”

“I’ve told her time and time again that I agree with you, my lord,” interrupted Father.

My blood boiled. Really. I opened my mouth to speak.

“It matters not.” The lord began to rise, and the specters slid smoothly behind him to make room. “The morrow is Olivière’s Returning, and after the ceremony she will reside with me in the castle.”

I shot up, sending my chair flying backward and crashing. “Excuse me?”

“Noll, listen.” Father spoke quietly.

“I didn’t agree to a Returning!”

There, I had said it. No one had asked my opinion before.

Elfriede dropped her spoon onto her bowl. The silver hitting the glass made a strange clang, not like the wood-on-wood of our usual dinnerware. Jurij seemed stunned, and I noticed his hand twitched nervously on his thigh, his chair half pushed backward, whether readying himself to jump up or forcing himself to stay seated, I couldn’t be sure. Father’s face glazed over, his eyes darting from corner to corner, probably looking for a bottle.

The lord stood unmoved a moment, towering about a head over me. I tried to imagine where I might find his eyes behind the veil and I stared, daring him to correct me.

The lord’s hat shifted, and he made a quick motion in my direction with a gloved hand. For a moment, I thought the specters might move to grab me. I tensed, ready to put up as fruitless a fight as Alvilda had. Instead, they righted my fallen chair and exited the house through the doorway behind me.

“I assumed you would be ready by the morrow,” said the lord after a brief moment of silence. “I gave you time to prepare yourself. Even if you chose not to visit me. Besides, your father and sister assured me just now that you would be ready.”

A pain shot through my chest. I glanced at Father and Elfriede in turn, but neither would meet my gaze. Jurij, at least, seemed in genuine shock at the revelation. Perhaps he’d been dreaming of Elfriede when they’d had the discussion.

“I can see now that I was mistaken. The ceremony should be canceled,” continued the lord. He traced the table with the tip of a gloved finger as he made his way past my father to join Jurij and me at the other side. He held the finger up to his veil, examining the small traces of sawdust. Then he flicked away the dust with his thumb and grabbed my hand in his before I could stop him. His grip was harder than I remembered.

“But I will come for you on the morrow nonetheless.”

He slid my hand under his veil and pressed those cold, damp lips of marble to the tips of my fingers.



I didn’t speak for the rest of the evening. I couldn’t look at my father or Elfriede, and it was just as well for Father, who used the opportunity to stay long into the night at Vena’s. He didn’t appear again, not even in the morning to bid me farewell.

Elfriede busied herself first with freeing and washing Arrow and then with all manner of outside chores until the chilly air forced her to enter the home and pull herself beneath the bed covers. It wasn’t our shared bed that she entered, but our parents’. She needn’t have bothered. I didn’t use a bed. Instead, I curled up against Alvilda’s side, and we shared a quilt wrapped around our shoulders on the ground before the dying fire. She said nothing, only ceasing her gentle squeeze on my shoulder to stroke my hair on occasion.

Jurij gave me a sorry look and a pat or two on the shoulder before he disappeared outside with Elfriede. Some friend. But then, the command must have worn off after the Returning. When she came back inside, he wasn’t with her. I’d hoped to see him in the morning, but the carriage came bursting through the woods at the first fleck of light over the mountainous horizon. I felt the urge to flee, and I searched restlessly for some clue in Alvilda’s expression that I should follow the urge to run, that I could still hope for the choice that was my gift. The choice that was my right.