The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(73)

“I’ve always been afraid of this power,” Odette says simply. “The thing I feared most was that I would bear witness to the death of someone I love and be unable to prevent it. That is the real reason I don’t bother to look. I . . . couldn’t bear it.”

“I know you gazed into Celine’s future the night you first met,” I say. “Will you not tell me what you saw?”

“Even though you asked that I not divulge your future?”

“This is not about my future,” I say. “This is about Celine’s.”

Dark laughter flies from Hortense’s lips. “You silly fool. If you cannot see how your fates are linked, then all that money spent on your fancy education was a complete waste.”

“Never mind that. What did you see?” I press Odette.

Odette sighs. “I saw Celine sitting on a throne in this very room. On either side of her feet lay a tamed lion and a tamed wolf.”

“The tamer of beasts,” I say in remembrance.

She nods.

“What kind of throne was it?” Jae asks.

Blinking, Odette closes her eyes as if to reconstruct the memory. “Golden, but strange. As if it were covered in vines that twist into something sinister near the top.”

Arjun moves toward her. “Do you remember what the top looked like?”

“As if it had . . . horns. Not ones like the devil, but more like antlers.”

Jae grunts. “Then it is exactly as Lady Silla wishes it to be.”

“What do you mean?” Lines form across Odette’s forehead.

“The Lady of the Vale has long wished to reunite the Winter and Summer Court under one banner, and it appears she wishes for her daughter to rule over both,” Jae says.

Laughter flies from Odette’s lips. “Are you making jokes? I suggest you try again.”

“It is not a joke,” Jae replies. “It is merely a logical conclusion.”

“Well . . . that’s . . . absurd,” Odette sputters. She points at Arjun. “He always says how much the Summer Court despises ethereals. And their lady wishes to install one on their throne?”

“Does Lady Silla not have other offspring?” I ask.

Arjun shakes his head. “The bloodlines of elemental enchantresses have struggled to reproduce for almost half a century. It is why many of them take mortal lovers. Human blood seems to strengthen the chances of a child surviving. This was the reason my own mother sought out my father. A child is a precious thing to any member of the gentry.”

“Si les enfants sont précieux, then why are they so cruel to ethereals?” Hortense asks.

Arjun lifts a shoulder. “That is the way of the Vale. I suspect they resent ethereals for thriving. For possessing the gift of immortality without having earned it. Perhaps they wish to lord over us with their last remaining advantage: their pure bloodline.”

Hortense spits at nothing. “This is the same disease that exists in mortals. An obsession with purity. Mark me, it will be their end.”

I listen as they speak. Even though the news of Celine’s parentage is not a surprise to me, I still don’t know what to make of it. Perhaps I should simply tell Celine the truth and leave the decision to her. But another, more visceral part of me wishes to protect her from all of it. To keep her away from this world and its perils. “Celine’s eighteenth birthday is less than seven weeks from now,” I say to no one, my attention settled on the far wall.

“Which means nothing you might have done or said could have prevented this exact outcome,” Odette replies. She reaches for me, her fingers coming to rest on my hand. “Stop blaming yourself for every bad thing that has happened to Celine in her life.”

I gaze at her sidelong. “Is it so wrong to want to keep those you love safe?”

“It is if you are lying to them,” Jae says from his chair across the room. “Don’t spare Celine the truth to appease your own ego, Sébastien.”

Hortense glares at him, then turns toward me. “Listen to the traitorous chaton. He may be cannon fodder in my eyes, but there are times he speaks true. Tell Celine what you know. Leave the decision to her. It is what a good man would do. One who trusts the heart and mind of the woman he loves.” Intensity sparks in her rich brown eyes. “Do not make her story about you.”

Her last words are like a punch to the stomach. If Nicodemus were here, he would do just that. His anger at being betrayed by Jae would eclipse all else. He would make these stories about himself.

I will not be my uncle.

I look around at each of my brothers and sisters. I think of the measure of them. What makes them who they are. What makes me who I am.

And I know what I must do.





CELINE





All day at the shop, Celine had warred with herself.

She’d promised never to seek out Bastien again. She’d sworn to leave behind his world and all the troubles that came with it. The questions remained: Did she owe it to him to keep that promise? Did she owe him her loyalty? Or was it more about honor?

Honor had not done Celine much in the way of favors. An honorable young woman would not have fled Paris after committing a murder, no matter the circumstances. She would have faced justice and hoped it prevailed.

Laughable. When had justice ever prevailed when it came to a richly entitled young man and a young woman of modest means?