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 pained voice had my gaze snapping back to hers. She rubbed her temple in frustration. "Gods, Tabitha, I don't know what to do." Her mouth quivered in distress as she hitched a shoulder in defeat, long loose hair swishing against the front of her black sheath dress.
Our gazes reluctantly swept to Sanela, who was flicking a hand over her dressing gown, trying to swipe off the fresh beads of wine that dripped down its silky fabric.
When my gaze slid back to Marissa, she was staring at me. She licked her lips nervously as she wrung her hands. Her mouth parted then abruptly shut into an indecisive line. She looked like she wanted to tell me something but was unsure if she should.
I waited patiently, while Sanela's mumbling and cursing, her anger at Romain refueling itself, filled the background.
Finally, Marissa stepped closer and spoke in a low voice, "This state she's in, I'm positive is all due to my grandfather, her father. While I was away this summer with my aunts, I heard them whispering between themselves. My grandfather, years ago, had an affair—"
"He did," a voice snapped behind us, the tone bitterly cold.
"Shit..." Marissa groaned under her breath, her eyes fluttering shut briefly as she rubbed the palm of her hand up her forehead.
Anxiety coiled beneath my skin as we turned to face Sanela.
She wobbled toward us, a drink in hand. "My father had an affair with a servant. A nobody," she snorted, rolling her glassy-drunk eyes. "He even had the audacity to marry the woman in secret. Some tacky ceremony out in the forest exchanging promises to one another. Promises that meant more to my father," she said, disbelief coloring her words as she flung an arm wide, "than those he'd given my mother in front of all the Houses and Master Sirro himself."
Marissa's eyes grew round and her mouth slackened. "He married her?"
Sanela's nostrils flared. She took one unsteady step after the other, coming closer and closer to where I stood until she was right in front of me. "I watched my mother fall apart over the years. She loved him and he didn't care. He didn't care about his true family, his real family—me and my sisters and brothers." She raised her drink to her mouth, staring coldly at me over its lip. "He married his servant whore and together they had a child. He stained our House, our family name, with a bastard child." She laughed into her wine, her breath clouding the glass. "That's who I was related to—a little servant boy."
Was—the word fell through me in horror.
Marissa was frozen in place, as was I.
I didn't know what to do or how to defuse Sanela's simmering anger. My role as a servant came to the fore, as natural to me as breathing air. I pinched the small vial clasped between Marissa's lax fingers and offered it to Sanela. "Here, Mrs. Deniaud, I have something that will help calm your nerves."
