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“I didn’t break precious Willow skin. I only did what you asked.”
“She deserved it, Sebastian. The girl is arrogant, like mama says. She taunted mama,” Ethan says.
Rage turns my vision black for a second.
Gregory chuckles, and I think I hear him calling Ethan an idiot under his breath.
I shoot Gregory a look. He knows I don’t like that.
“You were there?” I turn my attention to Ethan.
He clears his throat, wavers, glances at Lucinda for direction.
“Did you lay a hand on her, Ethan?” I’m trying to rein in my rage, at least with him.
“No,” Ethan answers, panicked. I know I need to go easy on him. He can’t control his emotions, and that’s not his fault.
“Ethan did nothing wrong. Even though he has as much right to that little whore as you.”
“No, he doesn’t. Not yet.”
“I just looked. I didn’t touch her, Sebastian. I didn’t.”
Fuck.
I sit down, raise my eyebrows as one of the girls from the kitchen puts a whiskey down for me.
“What did I ask you to do, exactly, stepmother?” She hates being called that. She may hate it more than when I call her by her first name. But she will answer because she alone is the one responsible.
Her lips purse. “She should learn on her first punishment that disobedience will cost her.”
“What did I ask you to do exactly?” I repeat, draining my glass. The girl refills it.
“The examination.”
And this is true. I did want her re-examined for the simple reason of bringing her down a notch. “And?”
“She disobeyed, like we all knew she would.”
“How many did I order if she disobeyed?”
“One or two strokes.”
“And you delivered?”
“I didn’t break skin!”
“How many strokes did you deliver?”
“You saw for yourself. And if you want her to respect you, you’ll deliver nine more now. That will teach her.”
“That will break her.”
“Isn’t that the point?” she hisses.
“On my timeline, Lucinda, not yours. She belongs to me. You do as I dictate to the fucking letter, or you’ll be the one on the post. Are we clear?”
Her left eye twitches. It always does when she wants to tell someone to go fuck themselves.
“Are we clear?” I repeat, my face stone.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now get out of my sight.”
It takes her a minute, and I know she’s cursing me to hell and back, but I don’t care.
She walks into the house as the servers bring out dinner: a roast chicken with potatoes, vegetables and a salad.
I look at Ethan as I chew my first bite of chicken.
“You should have stopped her.”
He looks at me. “I didn’t want to, and when it’s my turn, I won’t.”
“It’s not your turn yet, brother. You stay away from the girl, or I’ll be angry with you, understand?”
“Mama says I get to have her too. She says you want to keep her all to yourself. But I get my turn too.” He eats a forkful of chicken, washes it down with a swallow of wine.
“How did the meeting go?” Gregory asks, sitting back in his seat.
I don’t know if he’s uninterested in Helena or what. Maybe he’s just smart enough to keep his head down because he has two years to wait.
Hell, maybe he’s smart enough to know that between Lucinda, Ethan and me, there may not be much left when his turn comes at all.
The meeting was with our bankers. I confirmed the first installment of the payment that should be sent to the Willow family and looked over everyone’s accounts. I need to keep a tight rein over Lucinda and Ethan, because even if Helena is bound to be handed over to him after my year is up, I still control the family funds. It’s how I plan to keep control of him when he has her.
I wonder how much Helena knows about the money that exchanges hands after the reaping and through the years the Willow Girl is property of the Scafoni family. I wonder how she’d feel about her own precious family if she did know.
“Good,” I say, glancing at Ethan. “Things are on track.”
After dinner, we all go our separate ways, Gregory leaving the island for some party or other, Ethan retiring to his room. I go for a walk, making my way to the east side of the island where the Scafoni Family Mausoleum is.
This path is not lighted, and I swear the grass here is browner. Nothing grows here anymore, like the ashes of the dead infect the earth here with death. It’s always cooler on this side of the island too, and that makes no scientific sense.
This is why some part of me goes along with this insane business of the Willow Girls.
I don’t believe in any god, but I do believe in ghosts. I believe those of the Willows are vengeful, but more so, I believe in the curse Maggie Scafoni, Anabelle’s mother, placed on us centuries ago.
