Too tired to carry on, he combed out his plait, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He almost didn’t notice the figure behind him, but movement in the mirror made him jump.
Adelaide looked just as she had at dinner, except her hair was loosed from its knot. She took a step into the bathroom, blocking the door.
She spoke so low, Linden wouldn’t hear. “I’ve come to ask you something. I want you to be truthful in your answer.”
Briar spat a mouthful of toothpaste foam into the sink. “Okay.”
“Do you love him? Truly?”
Briar felt like no response was the right one. “I’m not after his money.”
“That’s not an answer.” Her voice was a hiss to keep from raising it. “Countless men and women have thrown themselves at him for years, and none got far. What do you have to offer? You’ve sullied yourself with tainted magic, you’ve already brought the vultures to our door, and they don’t forgive mistakes. Not of people like us. So what is it about you that’s worth the risk?”
Every mark on Briar’s body felt hot as an iron in coals. She wasn’t entirely wrong. It wasn’t Linden’s money Briar wanted, but the power to save his life. Was that, in the end, any different? Probably not to her.
“I’m cursed,” he said. It seemed to echo off the bathroom tiles. “I’m dying, and he can save me. There. Is that the answer you wanted?”
Adelaide’s face went white.
“I’d love to love him, and I’m trying,” he went on, “but he isn’t easy to get to know, and you haven’t made it easier.”
She didn’t seem to be listening. “You’ll be the ruin of us.”
Briar’s emotions flared and sank like a ship tossed in a violent storm. He couldn’t settle on one. He’d never failed so badly to do the right thing, or to make a good impression, or to be liked. These were things that had once come easily. Chief amongst those feelings was a deep sense of unfairness. He’d worked so hard, tried with everything he had to do the right thing, follow a path to success that was hard won on his own. She made it sound as though none of it counted, and it had all been to Linden’s credit.
Briar knew the irony in saying it, but he said it anyway. “Is it really so hard to believe I could make him happy?”
She grabbed Briar’s tithed arm. He recoiled, but she held it hard enough that he couldn’t pull free, and her nails dug crescents into the skin. Vatii let out a squawk of reproach.
Adelaide spoke every word like a string of curses. “You are not so charming that his affection could be genuine. If I find which of these you used to ensnare him, I’ll burn it off.”
Stricken, Briar couldn’t reply. Her grip tightened enough to bruise.
“Mother!” Linden’s voice was a whip crack.
Adelaide released Briar with a look like a chastised child. “Linden, please—”
“You will have your private conversation,” he said, “but you will not like it. Get out.”
Without question, she obeyed.
Briar couldn’t put everything together just yet, but—the manor, the meal, the way the Fairchilds spoke to one another—all of it seemed off, an illustrious feast of rotten food glamoured to appear fresh. Briar’s fear, once focused on Adelaide, pivoted to Linden.
“I’m sorry about my parents. They have no respect for boundaries.”
“It’s all right,” Briar said. He suppressed a shudder as Linden came forward. He recalled the sharp sting of knuckles and a ring impacting hischeek. He recalled the vitriol with which Linden spoke to his parents. He recalled Gresham gasping for air, and a fish vanishing from the aquarium.
Linden tilted his chin up to look into his face. Briar held firm.
“I should lend you some of the skin elixirs I have. The curse is affecting you quite badly.”
Briar said, “My vanity would appreciate it.”
A soft chuckle. “Come to bed when you’re ready.”
Briar sat in Linden’s monstrous bed with his knees tucked up, running his fingers over the fine cotton of the new bed shirt he’d been given, trying to calm his racing heart. The sound of running water issued from the en suite as Linden showered.
The bedroom doors were open, giving Briar a view of the atrium down the hall. Their floor was on a level with the chandelier, which glittered at the edge of Briar’s vision like a shadow that vanished once investigated. The sense of déjà vu he got from it was potent and inexplicable.
