Page 3 of A Lie so Pretty and Poisonous

I should have known better than to provoke him. He was a hornet’s nest on a good day, vibrating with unchecked resentment and an inflated sense of importance. I bruised his ego well over a decade ago when I turned down his advances and refused the courtship my mother arranged between us in front of the society’s wealthiest and most elite. He came from one of the most prestigious families in the region, which crafted his gilded self-image with the delusion that a woman should be fawning over a chance to be with him. After my perceived slight, he consistently went out of his way to be wretched toward me. Terren couldn’t commit to anything other than a grudge, and he had enthusiastically made the one he held against me a lifetime obligation.

“Riveting conversation as always. I see time has not stopped you from maintaining the decorum expected of a noble,” I spat, forcing my voice to remain steady. He liked timid women, and cowering to him would only bring him some sort of twisted pleasure. I refused to be the reason he had an ounce of joy.

Calm yourself, Rory.

I yanked my arm from his grip and gently straightened the sleeve of my blouse. “Now… what do you want, Terren?”

He gathered his sense of propriety and straightened, keeping a subtle smirk on his face. One which I had fantasized slapping off him on numerous occasions. “Your mother entrusted me to find you, bring you her letter, and ensure you and that child come back with me to your parents’ manor.”

I had hoped that my mother would get bored with trying to track me down and bring me to heel. That she would realize it wasn’t worth the effort to force me into the daughter she expected but never got. Especially since I walked in defiance from the moment I could put one foot in front of the other. Pretending her embarrassment of a daughter didn’t exist would have been better for both of us. I foolishly let myself believe, since we had years of no contact, that she would let me live my life the way I wanted in peace.

He reached into his coat pocket and thrust an envelope adorned with a golden seal into my hand. My family’s crest, a stag with a leaf between its horns, was boldly embossed in the wax. I looked from the letter to him and opened my mouth to speak. My impending protest was stifled by the back door swinging open and hitting the wall with a thud. A small figure was silhouetted in the doorframe.

Greta. Impeccable timing.

She was a short, lithe woman with sky-blue eyes that always radiated warmth and had the demeanor of a crackling fire. Steady but not to be messed with. The age lines on her face told a story of a life well lived.

“Oh, Rory, dear!” Greta exclaimed. “Can you come grab this crate? It is heavier than I thought it would be.” She waddled slowly toward me, taking care not to run into our display of medicinal tinctures freshly poured into glass bottles of various colors.

I ran to her, leaving Terren to seethe by the front counter. “I told you I would have gone to pick up this shipment for you.”

“Thanks.” Her breathless voice blew the silvery wisps of loose hair from her face as I took the crate from her arms. “I sometimes forget that I am not a young lady anymore, but I like to lie to myself and think that I can still do things that I did thirty years ago—to my detriment.” She laughed and looked up at my face with a fading smile. “What’s wrong, dear? You look crestfallen.”

I nervously eyed Terren, standing, arms folded, and an eyebrow arched above glaring eyes. Greta tracked my line of sight.

“Can I help you?” she asked him in a clipped tone as she walked toward him with a straight face and confidence, casually picking up a letter opener off the counter and arming herself. With the number of crimes happening around the continent, she likely assumed Terren had come to add the apothecary to the countless other businesses in the village that had fallen victim to theft as of late. The uptick in unrest had everyone on edge.

His eyes wandered the apothecary with a sneer. I doubted any of the herbs we used could cure him of his lifelong ailment of being an asshole. “No. I have business with Aurora.”

I crinkled my nose, hating how my full name rolled off his tongue.

Greta kept herself between us, palming the letter opener. “Oh, I see. Well, Rory, are you done with whatever business needs to be addressed with this…” she looked him up and down, “gentleman?”

I nodded, fending off the impending panic attack. “Yes. We are done here. Please leave.”

“You know I can’t do that, Rory,” he mocked and stepped around Greta.

She gripped her makeshift weapon tighter, but Terren didn’t even spare it a glance as he approached me. Greta tracked his steady steps through narrowed eyes. The one thing that would make him behave was a scrutinizing audience. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Greta,” I said, and she lowered the letter opener. If I didn’t reassure her of my safety, she might stab him on principle.

He leaned toward me with one hand pressed against the wall behind me, leaving only a few inches of space between us. His voice lowered to a soft but menacing tone, breath hot on my neck as he put his lips next to my ear so that Greta couldn't hear. “I will be back in three days’ time to collect you and that bastard child. I am in town and have my men watching this hovel of a shop. I have eyes everywhere. Don’t try to run.” He paused and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Or do. I would love a reason to get a little rough with you.” His dark eyes ran hungry lines up and down my body, lingering too long on my chest. Inching his face so his nose brushed mine, he added, “I’ll have you scream for me in one way or another.”

A wave of nausea hit me, and cold dread slithered down my spine. Terren didn’t make idle threats. I knew from experience that he kept true to his word. He straightened, turned around, and briskly walked to the front of the apothecary. With his palm on the brass door handle, he paused, looked back at me over his shoulder with darkened eyes, and said, “By the way, Jairus wants you to know he looks forward to having you back.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as Terren turned around and disappeared out the door, slashing one last deep wound open within me with his forked tongue.

Greta rushed to me and gently cupped my face. “Are you alright, dear? Who was that?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Terren. My beastly mother sent him to deliver a message and upset me.” I didn’t often talk about my parents. I craved a clean slate without the status and wealth of my family to influence the way people perceived me. It was challenging being an outsider in a village that flourished with generations of families who all knew and supported each other. If they had found out I was a noble, my welcome here would’ve been nonexistent. But Greta knew. She was the only person in the world whom I had trusted to divulge my past to.

“She found you,” she whispered. “How long has it been since you left?”

I swallowed. “Four years.”

Four years and hundreds of miles between us. Yet I still couldn’t escape the clawed reach of this monster and the wounds she reopened within me.

I looked at the letter fisted in my hand. The loopy and delicate handwriting of my name indicated my mother took time to write the letter herself instead of making one of her servants do it for her. I broke open the seal and pulled out the folded parchment, letting the envelope fall to the knotted wooden floor. A small trace of my mother’s perfume lingered on the parchment. Greta turned to leave, but I grabbed her hand, and she silently drifted back to my side. I needed her to anchor me. My heart raced as I read.