When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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A crackling hum came from twin monoliths. They were obelisk in shape and a mottled bottle green. A magical barrier to keep anyone from swifting in. Or swifting out.
My heart ricocheted in my throat as we faced those monoliths and the additional security measures that stood between me and freedom—the massive steel gates; the 15-foot wall threaded with adamere that surrounded our estate, and the secondary electrified fence that was infused with magic. There were guards on duty too. All of them were dressed in crisp, black uniforms, and strapped with guns and swords.
One of the guards headed for us as soon as he spotted who sat beside Graysen in his car.
Graysen rested an elbow casually on the curve of his open window and revved the engine, hard and loud. The guard stiffened and I saw the hesitation in his pace. No one liked facing a pissed-off Crowther, especially this one. Graysen slammed the heel of his hand against the horn, long and furious, revving the engine again, and his foul curse floated in the air.
The guard pulled to a stop and turned, waving his hand at his companion. Several jarring noises rattled loudly as the heavy locks unlinked the twin gates, and they rolled slowly apart. Though I was sure the guard's decision to release us had more to do with the long line of shiny black SUVs suddenly arriving behind us than going against my father and allowing me to leave.
My father had been utterly outraged when Graysen informed him he was taking me out for the day. I'd been left in the car which idled right beside the grand marble steps leading up to the front entrance of our mansion. Graysen and my father stood on the terrace, facing off against one another and he'd refused to let my father speak with me. I hunkered down low, keeping my gaze straight ahead, fixed on the neatly trimmed boxwood hedging the circular pebbled driveway, trying to block out my father's fury. But I'd snatched glances from the corner of my eye. My father argued, his cheeks burning red. No one questioned him or went against his orders. Only Graysen rebelled against him, and now I discovered his leverage over my father was me and the Alverac.
Graysen finally ended the argument by simply walking away. He sauntered down the marble steps whistling a jaunty tune. He really enjoyed winding my father up. But neither of us had a choice when my father quickly barked instructions at his men to follow us.
Oh well. I might be shadowed by a vanguard of bodyguards, but at least my one day of freedom was my own. Graysen had given me full authority to dictate how we were to spend our day in the city.
In front of us, the metal gates opened.
My fingers bunched nervously into my skirt. After hiking back to the mansion after our swim, we'd dressed for our day out. I wore a loose silk-crushed shift, the color of pewter, and tied my hair up into a ponytail. Graysen hadn't mentioned anything about my bare feet. No scathing remark to find shoes. He'd changed into a new pair of jeans, a fresh black t-shirt, and twin daggers buckled to the outside of his calf-high boots.
