Cynthia couldn’t tear her gaze away from Helena’s face, flashing in and out of darkness as they bumped along the gas-lit streets towards Mayfair. A veil had been removed from her eyes. She finally saw things clearly. Nothing had changed in the world outside The Devil’s Bargain, but everything had changed inside of Cynthia.
Damien Sinclair was a dangerous man, but he had unintentionally given her an invaluable gift. Awareness of her true self. She could almost forgive him for being an evil, calculating, cruel bastard. Almost.
‘I find it increasingly frustrating to not know what you are thinking.’ Helena’s cool voice reached across the carriage, a soft rainfall of sound.
‘How unfortunate that you must suffer as the rest of us do.’ Cynthia couldn’t stop the smile curling her lips despite the horror of their evening. Though it certainly could have gone far worse. She had all the letters of debt her husband owed to a dangerous man, and thanks to Helena’s unique gifts, they had given him nothing in return.
‘It isn’t just that I can’t hear you. It’s that I don’t understand the why of it. I could pluck the inner musings of any stranger on the street without a hint of effort. But no matter how I try, your thoughts remain hidden. It makes no sense.’
‘Try again, now. I’ll think something simple, and you try to read me.’ Cynthia watched Helena carefully.
RED.
She cleared her mind of everything except that one word.
Helena’s eyes started to change. In the dark carriage, she could barely distinguish their shade, but like water freezing on a pond, they lightened, glowed, and turned to flashing silver.
Cynthia stopped thinking about any colour other than Helena’s incandescent eyes. ‘Why do your eyes change like that?’
Helena blinked, the silver immediately dissipated until shadows once more hid her. ‘It happens when I use my powers.’
‘Always?’
Helena shrugged, the swish of silk against velvet squabs loud in the quiet carriage. ‘Sometimes, people are thinking so loudly, I don’t have to delve into my magic at all. Their thoughts crash over me like waves. Other times, when I’m seeking a particular truth, I have to push, and then my eyes change.’
‘Does it hurt?’
Helena smiled, her face caught in the flashing streetlamp as the carriage swayed. ‘No. Accessing my power feels like a rush of water, lifting me. Making me weightless. But the constant noise of other people’s thoughts can become…’ Helena shrugged, ‘loud.’
‘But not with me?’
A crimson curl broke free as she shook her head. ‘No. With you, it’s quiet.’
‘Maybe that’s a good thing.’
‘It’s frustrating. I’m used to the constant noise, but the silence is impossible. Take tonight, for instance. I have no idea how taking those pictures affected you, or what your true opinion is.’
‘If you wish to know what I’m thinking, ask. I promise I will answer any questions you might have.’
I have a few questions I’d like answered. Like why you two smell of each other.
Cynthia turned sharply to the fox snuggled next to Helena. He licked his chops and placed his sharp nose between delicate paws. She didn’t feel the rush of weightlessness Helena described, but some magic must be at play to let her hear Helena’s familiar.
‘All right. What were you thinking when we posed for those photographs?’ Helena lifted a crimson brow in silent challenge, daring Cynthia to live up to her promise.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as the heat she had felt in those moments returned with increasing intensity, pulling her attention away from Hamlet.
Blast. I should never have baited her.
But when Cynthia made a promise, she did not renege. ‘I was thinking that your hair is like a blazing sunset. Or the glory of autumn. And I wanted to taste you.’
‘To see if I taste of caramel and salt?’
Helena remembered her question from a week ago. Surely that meant something. It gave her courage to continue. ‘Yes. And my whole body seemed to turn into liquid fire. It was extraordinary.’ She leaned closer to Helena. The carriage was impossibly warm. Or perhaps that was just Cynthia’s skin. It stretched tight, achingly sensitive to the rasp of her lace bodice against her bare inner arm.
‘Before Sinclair interrupted us, you told me you never understood how others felt desire for one another. Do you comprehend now?’ Helena’s eyes were turning silver once more.
Cynthia bit her lip and held her breath. She should pull back. Wait until whatever madness currently claiming her released its grip. But she wanted Helena to know. She wanted to talk with someone about this revelation, if not to better understand it herself.
