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I’m no longer afraid of them the way I used to be. Whether that’s due to my increased strength or something else, I’m not sure.
When there is a gap between carriages, I hurry across the street, following the scent of delicacies. I’m salivating before I reach the other side.
Inside the patisserie, it is warm and fragrant, with the taste of melted sugar in the air. The large glass case, taking up nearly one entire wall, displays the most exquisite desserts I have ever seen. Round tables line the front windows, and booths fill the remaining spaces. Patrons, in groups, big and small, fill nearly every seat. Since I’m alone, I don’t want to take up a table others could use, so I opt to walk around while I eat. I don’t go far, keeping the dressmaker’s storefront in sight so Della can find me.
I stop at a water fountain in the middle of the square. It’s made of flawless black stone and is almost big enough to swim in. It’s polished and buffed to a mirror finish.
The center is comprised of five levels, each depicting a scene. On the first, is a woman lifting her hand for a bird to perch on. The second is the woman with a handsome man with pointed ears and a crown. War fills the third, two sides colliding in a tangle of chaos. The fourth shows the two lovers cling to each other as hands try to pry them apart. The final scene on the bottom-most level depicts the man weeping over the woman’s fallen body, a sword run through her chest.
“Do you know the story behind this fountain?” a warm male voice asks with an unmistakable sensual rumble in his tone.
His warm breath fans against the side of my cheek. It’s so unexpected I nearly topple into the icy water as I turn.
Two strong arms encircle my waist. He pulls me in, preventing me from getting drenched by pressing me against his body. I gape up into familiar amber eyes, glittering with mirth. The mischievous grin on Oliver Wolvrik’s face is all the proof I need that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“What a coincidence running into you like this,” he all but croons, still holding me aloft. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Valmont.”
I level a glare at him. “I very much doubt this is a coincidence.”
Oliver wrinkles his freckled nose and shrugs, not bothering to deny it as he sets me upright. I step back and smooth out my skirt.
Oliver clasps his hands at the small of his back as he gazes at the fountain. “Not many know this piece originally came from the fae lands. The story behind it is actually quite sad.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times, but I’m unable to come up with a response to his strange ramblings. I stay quiet and glance around. If any vampires have noticed the wolf among them, no one seems to care.
“Oliver?”
“Oli,” he corrects absently.
“What are you doing here?” I demand in a harsh whisper. “I thought you’d left….”
“I did, but I returned to see you, of course,” he answers, as if it’s obvious. Then, seeing I’m not amused, his expression turns grave. It looks out of place on his youthful features. “There is something amiss—something big—but no one is talking about it. Nightwich has doubled the guard and our… people haven’t been able to get in.” Oliver pauses. “I need you to tell me what you know.”
I nod, and he moves close enough that anyone who sees us might mistake us for lovers.
In the absence of all rumors, it’s clear Elizabeth wants to control every scrap of information that goes in and out of the castle. I take a moment to think. Even here, I must be as careful with my words as possible.
“He is cursed,” I say, keeping my voice low and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear to hide my mouth. Oliver’s eyes widen. “On the third night of the full moon, she will make him her consort.” There’s no need to speak names for him to understand.
Oliver’s expression slips for a fraction of a moment before he schools his features. Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, his face is a blank mask. Amber brown irises shine like sunlight through honey in the light of the gas lamps.
There are so many questions I want to ask. Why are his people coming and going? Is he upset because he and Alaric are friends? Or is there another reason? But I keep them to myself as he mulls over what I said, and the unspoken details hidden among my words.
“This is worse than we thought,” he says, more to himself than to me. One hand absentmindedly scratches the day-old layer of scruff along his jaw.
Enough time passes with the two of us staring at each other that it begins to look strange. I place my hand on his forearm, drawing his attention, silently begging for him to explain.
“Knowing this, I’m surprised you found your way into town.” He shakes his head and loops my arm through his, then walks with me as he continues talking. “Now that you’re here, you should come with me.”
I balk and plant my feet, refusing to be dragged away. “Where?” I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. “You know I can’t.”
Oliver appears to be exercising his patience to the limit. Even if there is a compelling reason for me to go along with him, I expect more information than that before deciding.
Regardless of good intentions, I will not blindly follow anyone or let them make decisions for me that could take me further from what I must do.
He pulls me to stand before him, hooking an arm around my waist and cupping my cheek with his other hand. “You are in grave danger, Clara. With your vampire gone, you need to be somewhere out ofherreach… he would want you to go somewhere safe.”
That last part feels like a punch to the gut. Oliver might be right because I would want the same for him, were our situations reversed. But I can no more abandon Alaric than he would abandon me.
