Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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Marissa's mouth was a grim line as she said, "Even today, he pulled a disappearing act."
My fingers curled around the end of my wooden spoon as despondency wrecked the last remains of hope. How could Dolcie keep doing this to Oswin?
"Maybe he's busy with work," I offered weakly.
"It's not if he's having an affair... It's whom with."
My eyes flared wide. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean," Marissa said, her hard gaze slashing to mine as she drew her full height and glared down at me along the length of her slender nose. "My mother suspects it's one of the servants. And I'm inclined to believe her."
I didn't need to remember to act surprised because I was. Shock slackened my mouth because some silly part of me had hoped if Sanela discovered the truth she'd have believed the other woman would be someone from her own rank, not a servant, and the affair certainly not conducted within her home, under her very nose.
All the fight evaporated, and Marissa slumped against the wall, looking downward at her hands as she rubbed them together. She glanced up beneath her eyelashes, misery misting her eyes. "Gods, Tabitha, it's been awful this week. She's seething and I don't blame her. I suspect she would have turned a blind eye if the woman came from one of the upper ranks, but she isn't. She's a servant."
The underlying insult stung. Even if Marissa was a friend and too caught up in pain to realize just how offensive it sounded, it still hurt.
I stroked my hand up her arm, squeezing in commiseration and understanding. She ran a knuckle under her eyes to wipe away the filmy moisture of tears and suddenly perked up with a small fake smile. "Anyway, all that can keep until after the wedding, and you'll promise me a girl's night, just the two of us, and we'll talk further about it then."
She offered her little finger and I curled mine around hers, whispering, "I promise." Except I felt cheap and dishonest because I knew fully well I'd continue lying to her, smiling in sympathy and offering solace, when I knew exactly who it was having an affair with Romain and that Marissa was going to have a half-brother or sister in seven months' time.
Marissa pushed off the wall, running the flat of her hand down a sleeve to tug at the ruched cuff, before angling her chin to a spot behind me. My bedroom, I realized when she said, "Time to get ready for the party, Miss Catt."
Pulling me forward, Marissa led me to the door, opened it up, and ushered me inside.
Thirty minutes later I was showered and dressed in the outfit my aunt wanted me to wear tonight. Marissa sat on our small couch with perfect posture, her knees together and feet neatly tucked to the side. Her leather tote slouched on the cushion seat beside her, onto which, years ago, I'd tossed a throw-over to hide the fabric's threadbare patches.
