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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chef Markel leaned his bulky shoulder against the doorframe, his imposing size swallowing the space. He was wearing a light beige suit, the jacket unbuttoned and one hand tucked inside the pocket of his pants. The crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned and contrasted against his dark skin. There was a flash of white teeth as he smiled warmly at my aunt.
"Lovely," he said to my aunt.
"You look good too, Markel," Aunt Ellena replied, her cheeks flushing as she touched a self-conscious hand to her temple, smoothing back her hair.
"You know you're not supposed to be down here, in the female dorms, right?" I said to Markel to tease him, but also to take his attention off my aunt who needed a moment to compose herself at his sudden appearance and his obvious attention.
"What are they going to do, fire me?"
"Maybe," Marissa answered airily. And then burst into laughter at the faux-shocked face he shot her, his hand spread across his chest.
He pushed off the doorframe. "Just checking to see what's keeping you ladies, and to see," he said, sliding his eyes toward Aunt Ellena, "if you needed an escort to the dance."
A smile began on my Aunt's face, shy at first, then widened with delight and the color staining her cheeks deepened.
My eyes widened and my heart swelled to see my aunt a little off-kilter and obviously pleased.
She dipped her head. "Very much so, Markel."
As I moved past her, I whispered, "Is he the reason you're so adamant on going out tonight?"
She shushed me, but her eyes sparkled and her smile grew broader.
Markel offered her his arm and she linked hers with his while behind their backs, Marissa and I shared a look of—What the hells? But this is so freaking exciting!
We followed, trailing behind Markel and my aunt at a polite distance, down the empty hallways of the Servant's quarters, our heels noisily clattering along the long narrow length.
As we crossed the open doorway of the Servants' Hall, I spotted Joann, sitting on a chair in front of the open French doors looking out at the back lawns, with her feet on a table, ankles crossed, smoking a cigarillo. Clouded silver streamed from her mouth as she puffed away. She wasn't interested in the dance. Too many people—she'd grumbled to me earlier. She saw me wave at her and lifted her hand holding her cigarillo in reply.
While I was intrigued by the smiles my aunt was giving Markel and the laughter he enticed from her, I slowly began to notice the change that had occurred in my friend. The way Marissa was glancing about the empty hallways of the Servants Quarters with sharp blue eyes, her quietness, and the tension in her body.
"What's wrong?"
She jolted, her gaze snapping back to mine. "Nothing."
"Liar," I replied, digging an elbow into her ribs, making her shy away with a cry of protest. I knew her. I knew something was worrying her.
