“Is this your plan then? Reveal yourself to Opulence?”
Alora surveyed all she could see. The lawn and topiaries, the stone walkway and flame-washed stairs. “I think so. Merridon has done a lot of work painting over his secrets. I think the best place to start is by washing some of them clean. Could you wish for rain?”
Bash did, and the skies rumbled in answer. Seconds later, the downpour began. Alora felt badly over the shouts of protest from the elegantly dressed as they rushed inside, but not so badly that she thought about stopping. The rain pummeled the grounds, splattering the path in fat drops that sent bursts of glitter into the air with their velocity.
Alora watched as the white lane began to run with gold, the mansion’s walls losing their luster moment by moment. Gray stone lay beneath, plain as a mountain. She watched as the topiaries wilted, too, beneath the onslaught. In a matter of seconds, they were no longer green but taupe—fake and plain. She stepped backward, the lawn protected where her shoes had been, and saw the blades quickly fade as the rain found them too.
She glanced at Bash last.
He’d lowered his hood, his face upturned to the sky. She glanced over his covered jawline, his mouth and nose, and when he pulled off his coat, she smiled that he wore a black vest, vining with silver leaves. A ‘mending’ he’d allowed.
“I prefer you dressed like a shopkeeper,” she said.
His gaze found hers. He reached backward, unclasping the mask, until he could pull it free, stuffing it into the pocket of his trousers. He held out a hand, thought better of it, and removed the gloves first. Then his bare palm was there, waiting to begrasped by hers, as he said, “Bash Syntaine. Enchanted with the ability to both destroy and restore light. I own a shop called Potions and Peculiarities that I’d be interested in selling to the right buyer. I’ve traveled widely, almost never by my own choice, and have hurt a lot of people, most against my own will. I could have fought harder against it, but I stopped quite some time ago. Until now.”
Alora put to rest the lonely look of his stranded hand and slid her own within it. “Alora Pennigrim. Enchanted with a too-vivid imagination. I would love to buy your shop—for the right price. I’ve hardly traveled at all, except from Eirian, which I abandoned when I hurt someone very badly under rather good intentions and couldn’t fix it. I also haven’t fought very hard, until now.”
They stared at one another awhile, the rain soaking them through. Veins of black snaked across the whites of Bash’s eyes, and Alora wondered what that meant.
He said, “How’s that for revealing myself?”
Alora smiled, and it wasn’t at all perfect nor practiced. “A good start.” His eyes cleared to that familiar, deep green at her statement, and she knew then what had brought upon the darkness, because she felt that vulnerability the same.
She didn’t want to be free of him. Not at all.
He stepped nearer, the fake topiary standing stark and ugly behind him, and she couldn’t deny anymore that she’d more than one dream now. That hers was the same as his and just as much of a worthwhile torment. Her breath hitched when his hand came around the back of her head.
His mouth dropped near hers. “Tell me what to wish for and when to wish it. I’ll see this place fall for us both.”
Alora did, her new plan tumbling from her lips in a rush—all for it to be dashed to a heap at Lennox’s scream.
Chapter Forty-Two
Marshall Merridon had slapped Lennox Flowers straight across the cheek, and he’d grabbed ahold of her before she could fall beneath the aggression of it; there upon the front steps of the mansion.
Alora’s vision blurred in her rage.
It nearly caused her to miss Bash’s leaving.
“Enough!”
The malevolence of Bash’s shout jolted her, enough that her eyes cleared, and she found him rushing through the rain with long-legged strides. He’d made it to the stairs before Alora could even step on the path, his hand enclosing Lennox’s wrist, hauling her behind him.
Alora ran, missing the beginnings of their exchange due to the harsh rain, and stopped at the first stair. Marshall Merridon loomed over his adopted son in a threatening manner. When his hands came up to shove Bash backward, Bash smacked them away. Hard enough that Merridon stumbled, and Alora gasped.
This wasn’tat allgoing according to plan.
“You dareput your hands on me? I am the Master of Opulence! I own you all!”
“You do notownme,” said the Urchin captain and fisted his hand around Merridon’s sopping crimson tie.
“Me neither,” said Lennox, from behind Bash’s back. Her cheek was red as cherries, but her eyes were vivid and angry.
“Or me,” said Alora, but much quieter.
Still, it drew attention. Merridon turned toward her, his hands attempting to find purchase on Bash’s wrists and failing. His eyes widened as he took her in.
“Miss Pennigrim? Get back to the Room of Desire thisinstant.” When Alora didn’t so much as twitch, he appeared overcome, his features an apoplectic purple. “What has happened? Obey me!”
