Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Thirty

"Simon?" Her voice cracked.

"He's alright," Mary said.

Constance blinked her eyes open with difficulty. She was in an unfamiliar room filled with old furnishings. It felt like she'd stepped into an authorial legend. Stone walls, metal sconces, faded tapestries on the walls. She sat up and tried to get out of bed, but fell back, her legs weak.

"Take me to him," she demanded, her head spinning.

"He's in his own room, asleep. He's perfectly fine."

"I need to see him."

"I swear on my life." She handed Constance a glass of water.

She drank it. Her mouth felt like it had gravel in it, but what she really wanted to do was throw it at her cousin's head.

"Simon was never in any real danger," Mary said breezily. "William would never have allowed him to be hurt."

Heat rose in Constance's belly. She set the empty glass aside with as much force as she could muster, which wasn't much.

"You believe that?" She said incredulously.

"Of course," Mary said earnestly.

"What other lies has he told you?"

"I know how it looks and how it must feel but—"

"You know how it feels?" Her words were sharp. "You've had your dearest friend chain you to a bed and leave you to die?"

Mary blanched.

"You've had werewolves break into your house and take you against your will. You've watched as they threw your brother into a pit, helpless to do anything to save him?"

"No, of course not," Mary said, studying her hands. "But I know Simon was safe. You saw Edward. He had a sword and was ready at a moment to jump in and rescue our cousin."

Constance saw the vampire's head rolling across the floor of the pit, black blood pooling under his twitching body. She stuck her head over the side of the bed and retched.

She'd made that poor man fall asleep and then Edward had killed him. Her stomach heaved again, but there was nothing left. It had been days since she'd eaten anything of value.

"There now," Mary said, soothingly pulling a rope over the bed, a bell sounding far away. "I was going to have a bath drawn for you, anyway."

Constance wiped her chin, her hands shaking.

"I'd like to see my brother," Constance said again.

"Let's get you cleaned up first." She tried to take Constance's hand.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, shaking her off.

Mary looked hurt.

"It's important that you know we wouldn't have allowed anything to harm our cousin. We needed you properly motivated. But now that it's over, you can know the truth—"

"You don't get to call him cousin. Not after dragging him from his home, where he felt safe. And I don't care if you believe Simon was safe. I know he wasn't. Are you so foolish you believe a man like Baines is capable of any kind of decency?"

Mary's eyes narrowed. "He is a man of purpose," she said, opening the door for the maid. "He is committed to a holy mission. We are committed to a holy mission."

She pointed to Constance's vomit. The maid sighed imperceptibly and then left to get cleaning supplies.

Constance could see in her cousin's eyes that she believed what she was saying. Her love for Constance may have been real, but she'd do whatever Baines told her to. She was a genuine believer.