29
AURAS AND BLOOD
Irene
The idea of Sean being a supernatural creature filled me with dread. Finding him was already difficult without the added problem of his having special powers, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight a wizard.
Sitting on a bench, I practised catching auras in the garden where Graves was chopping wood and Myrtha was talking with the housekeeper. The gardeners were spread around, trimming bushes and pulling weeds.
Graves swung the axe over his shoulder and strode to me, his aura reddening. “What are you staring at? You’ve been looking at me for a while.”
Oh dear. I straightened. “I’m practising reading your aura.”
“You’re a soul searcher.” He scratched his stubble. “And what does my aura look like?”
“Well…there’s a lot of anger, and I can feel your curiosity towards me.”
He arched his brow. “Quite correct.”
“Why are you so angry? Why all the resentment towards Knight?”
I thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he exhaled, his expression softening. Even his aura became less scarlet.
“My father was the alpha of the Whitechapel clan, well, the duke.”
“Goodness. I had no idea.” I understood why he found his life in the Dark Court difficult.
“My father was a good man, but he didn’t understand business.” He paused. “Am I boring you?”
“Not at all. Please continue.” Learning what had happened to him would help me interpret his aura better.
“A few bad investments ruined us and the entire court.” Burnt-orange shame flashed through his halo. “When Knight attacked us, it was a bloodbath. My father was killed. My sister, Lucy, was kicked out of her home. Knight spared me because he said he’d won and that was enough. And I’m here. Useless.” There was a long pause. “I didn’t protect my father and my sister, and I can’t provide for her. What kind of werewolf am I?” His voice was a whisper, and his sorrow reached my heart.
“I detect shame. A lot of it. You should forgive yourself. You can’t carry the weight of a war on your shoulders.”
“Would you forgive yourself if your father died because of you?”
That was a good point. I shook my head. “My father died because of me.”
Sympathy glowed around him with a lavender light. Not much, but it was there.
“May I ask you a favour?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Can you convince the duke to help me get my house back? For my sister. I don’t care if I live here or somewhere else, but my sister should stay in the house where she grew up.”
“It’s very kind of you to think of your sister. But I’m not that important. The duke won’t listen to me.”
He narrowed his amber gaze. “You’re his favourite. He’s never taken a concubine.”
“Excuse me.” I balled a hand on my hip. It was only thanks to my education if I didn’t slap him. I could barely contain my anger. “I’m not his concubine!”
He shrugged. “If you prefer another term, it’s fine by me. But the substance stays the same.”
“I wasn’t clear enough. Ravenhill has never touched me.” That was true.
“I know he’s fussy about touching people and he gets angry when someone touches him, but I thought it was because he was eccentric and holier-than-thou.” Ash-grey confusion speared through his aura. “But he doesn’t touch you? Why?”
