I look at Gael. “Your home?”
“Sure is. I told the driver we’re going inside for a three-course lunch followed by a tour of my mother’s renowned art collection,” she says in a pompous voice that makes me laugh. “He ate it right up. This is the best part of town with a nonexistent crime rate, so they’ll probably find a tree to nap under.”
“You’re a genius,” I say, grabbing my bag as the door opens.
The footman concedes a step and offers me his gloved hand. “Mistress.”
I step out in a gush of blue fabric that spills across the cobbles and tip my face to the sun, drinking in the scent of freedom.
Smiling, Gael takes my hand and leads me past our stoic entourage through a garden gate, into a courtyard framed with a variety of citrus trees that pinch the air with their zesty scent. Lifting a rock from a tailored garden bed, she plucks a key from the mulch and uses it to unlock the simple, blue door.
“Back entrance,” she whispers, rolling her eyes. “Don’t want the servants to see. They’re such incorrigible gossips.”
We step into a bright hallway, the floor paved in gray marble to match the stone walls. Not what I was expecting, considering the outside is the classic blue stone of most Bahari homes.
“I’ve lived here forever,” Gael says, closing the door behind us, then walking ahead. “Papa died when I was six. Mother refuses to leave. This house hasn’t changed a bit since then.” She looks at me over her shoulder, the train of her silky dress dragging along the floor. “Guess you know how it feels. To lose someone, I mean.”
The words hit like a physical blow to the chest, and something inside me withers.
I didn’t lose anything that wasn’t my own fault.
“I was a lot younger than you.” I offer her a soft smile. “I don’t remember much.”
Lie …
I remember it all.
The deadly wrath that boiled up until my spine curled back, grubbing cracks in my skin that felt like split seams.
I remember the screams and the silence that swiftly followed.
I remember looking around and wondering where my mommy was—that’s when my heart got really scared.
I wish I could erase it all again, but I can’t.
It’s stuck with me. My penance for taking all those lives.
Mymother’s—
“Sometimes, I wish I could forget,” Gael says, leading us through another door and down a curling set of stairs, the air growing colder the deeper we walk. “Make Mother forget, too. She spends so much time and resources trying to liberate his death that everything else pales in significance. In a way, I became an orphan that day, invisible as I am.”
My heart flops at the thought of Gael growing up in this big house with everything to give and nobody willing totake.
“I’m so sorry, Gael …”
“No, I’m sorry.” She laughs, the sound hollow as she steps off the stairs and into another hall. “Poor little rich girl, complaining about her plush life. Stupid, I know.”
She offers me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and ushers me through a doorway, turning the dial on a large lantern, shedding light on an impressively stocked wine cellar.
“Wow …” Kicking off the ornamental shoes that were giving me blisters and making my feet sweat, I spin, scanning it all with wide-eyed wonder.
Baze would have a field day in here.
Reaching onto her tippy toes, Gael plucks a bottle from the top shelf, blowing some dust off the black and white label. “This looks expensive,” she mutters, retrieving a corkscrew from behind a barrel and digging it into the stopper.
I drop my bag to the floor and crouch, pulling out my change of clothes.
She takes a long swig, wiping her lips with the back of her arm as she offers me the wine, hissing out a breath. “Yup,” she croaks. “That’s the good stuff.”
