Ruined (Ruined, #1)(23)
“Sounds like your mother and my father would have gotten along.”
Mary tilted her head, pressing her lips together. “In a way, I think they would have. But my mother . . . she had a certain darkness to her. She could go from happy to furious very quickly. Your father seems to have a better handle on his emotions than my mother did.”
A long silence followed her words. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “That they’re gone.”
“Thank you,” she said, without much feeling, like she’d given that response a thousand times. She was silent for several seconds, staring at him like she was mustering up the courage to ask something. “Why did you want to talk about the Ruined?” she asked.
“I’m curious. People don’t talk about them much here.”
“Your father is engaged in a war with them.”
“There are no Ruined in Lera. It’s easy to pretend they don’t exist.”
“Not even Olivia Flores?” she asked. “Your father took her prisoner, didn’t he?”
“I don’t think she’s in Lera. If she is, she’s far away.”
“You don’t know where?”
He shook his head. “She was moved recently.”
Mary twisted her lips around, looking at the wall past him.
“You disagree?” he asked. “With keeping her prisoner?”
She looked at him sharply. “I didn’t say that.”
Her tone held more fervor than he was expecting. “Do you agree then?”
“No.”
He waited, laughing when she didn’t offer anything more. “Is there another option?”
“He could have not taken her prisoner at all.”
Cas lifted his eyebrows. “My father hasn’t talked about her much, but I got the impression she wasn’t so much a prisoner as a guest.”
Mary let out a loud laugh. “A guest!”
“I . . . that’s the impression I got. That she’s helping and healing.”
“A Ruined. Helping you!” She threw her head back like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “After you killed her mother and declared war on her people!”
“I . . . it sounds stupid when you put it like that.”
“It sure does, Cas.”
Her tone held a tone of condescension, and he laughed despite his embarrassment. “Perhaps I didn’t think that through.”
“Perhaps not. Olivia Flores is a prisoner, not a guest.” Her amusement faded, her eyes locked on his. “You should ask your father about her. Find out the truth.”
“I will.” He was suddenly embarrassed that he’d never inquired about Olivia before. How old was she? Fourteen? Fifteen? What exactly was his father doing with her?
There didn’t seem to be much to say after that, so they sat in silence for several long minutes, until he decided he had probably stayed long enough. He stood and headed for the door. “I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Cas.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his heart skipping around his chest. Had she changed her mind? Did she want him to stay? He turned back to her.
She stood, gesturing to her pink dress. “I can’t get it off myself. I’ll have to call my maids in to help me unbutton it, and if you’d like them to think we consummated . . .” She trailed off, clasping her hands in front of her.
“Oh. Of course.” He hadn’t even thought of that.
She turned around, revealing an impossibly long row of tiny buttons down the back of the dress. He stepped closer to her, grasping the top one, behind her neck.
“Are all these buttons really necessary?”
“I wouldn’t know. Your mother sent the dress and told me to wear it tonight.”
“Of course she did.” He moved on to the second button.
Mary lightly grabbed the edge of the skirt, the fabric rustling as it moved. “It’s beautiful. Your mother has excellent taste.”
“I suspect she told you that herself.”
She laughed softly, and Cas could feel her body rise and fall beneath his fingers. “She did.”
He moved down the row of buttons, slowly freeing each one. As the material parted, it began to reveal the bare flesh of her back, and he found it hard not to look. Her smooth olive skin practically glowed, and he was almost tempted to run his fingers down her spine.
The left shoulder of the dress slipped down, and she quickly crossed her arms over her chest, holding it in place.
The buttons ended below her waist, and he swallowed as he undid the last ones. His palms were sweaty and his insides had started dancing in a way he didn’t particularly like.
“Thank you,” she said softly, without turning around.
“You’re welcome.” He forced his gaze away from the open dress, revealing a part of a woman he had never given a second thought to. Now he thought he might like to see that every day.
He strode to the door, grabbing his coat off the chair. He didn’t look at Mary for fear of his face giving away his feelings. “Good night.”
TEN
EM FOUND AREN waiting in the hall the next morning, and she gestured for him to follow her into the sitting room. He peeked around the corner like he expected someone else to be there. When he found it empty, he stepped inside.