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I look up at her sharply. “I’m pledged.”
“So?” She puts down one of my cards on top of the last one. “I left the Order and married an average man, I was already pledged. The only reason you two are making this so difficult for yourselves is because you’re trying to make it about other people and other things. Politics and the council and whatever the hell else.”
“How do you know?”
She grins. “I’m a psychic, didn’t you see the signs.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not that good of a psychic.”
“Lucky guess, then.”
I narrow my eyes. That doesn’t seem true.
“All you two need, if you really want it, is to pledge to each other. You can do that in front of one witness just as easily as the entire council.”
“Or, maybe I pulled some of my records—professional curiosity, you know—” she waves her hand “—and I noticed a strange pattern.”
I lean forward. “What?”
“Pick a—”
“Fucking hell.” I grab a card and shove it at the woman. “What was it?”
Her lip curves like a pleased cat. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that as heirs to two council seats, neither of you had betrothals at birth? Wouldn’t highly ambitious, politically minded parents want to use their kids to further their roles in the Order?”
I frown, saying nothing. Yes, it is strange, but I know what happened to me. There wasn’t a good match. I had no options.
“That feud between our families goes back centuries.”
I’m startled, and I suddenly remember that Angelica is a Capulet. It’s strange—she doesn’t seem like one, and it’s so easy to forget. I tense, like she might suddenly attack, but she barely looks up as she continues.
“You may not know my brother well, but what do you think your father would have done if he found out his only son was fated for the daughter of his only enemy? Would anyone have told you?”
My mouth goes dry, and I can’t form words. My mind goes entirely blank.
Angelica glances up, and I expect her to be smiling—like she’s won something, beat me, with this revelation. But she just watches me with intense, gray eyes.
“So,” I struggle to say. “Now what?”
It’s not eloquent, and I despise asking anyone else for what I should do, but this whole week has been nothing but that. Nothing but laying down every shred of pride I had left as an offering of devotion to Etta. Now, maybe, I know why.
“Ask Etta if she wants you or she wants to try and do everything all at once. If what you just told me about her is true, then maybe it will work out.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
ETTA
Aclap of thunder sounds outside my window and the rushing wind howls against the house, shaking my French doors for all they’re worth. I shiver, curling in on myself. The rain hasn’t started yet, but I can tell it’s not going to be the peaceful kind of storm, but rather an angry one. One with teeth and claws and vengeance, wreaking havoc against the world.
I’m back in my room at my house as if nothing happened. As if I was never gone. In a way, it’s like I never left, since my parents never even noticed my absence. A folder with another of my mother’s signature post-it’s sits unread on the end of my bed, no doubt full of whatever decor she’s chosen for the party after my bonding to Harrison. Just the thought makes me wish to go to sleep and never wake up.
I glance down at my phone, where my last text to Roman stares back at me unanswered.
How are you?
Hey, can we talk?
Apparently, my self-actualization came too late. That, or he was never going to be receptive to what I wanted. Either way, his silence is an answer, if not the one I wanted.
