All for a Rose (28 page)

“Oh, you must be hungry,” Maribel exclaimed. The frown that had been tugging at her mouth a second ago vanished as she put an arm on her sister’s shoulder. “I’ll fix you some food. Do you want to come with me to the kitchen?”

Corrine kept her eyes on Daman, brown orbs darkening to the color of frozen earth. “I’ll stay here and look through my spellbook. I think Daman has waited long enough.”

Daman studied Corrine, wary of the strange light in her eyes. There was something in those eyes, something reflected in her voice, that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

“Daman?”

Maribel’s voice held a hint of concern and it was enough to snap Daman out of his daze. He smiled at Maribel, though this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Of course, of course.” He swept an arm in front of him and addressed Corrine. “If you would come with me into the sitting room, I’m sure you would be more comfortable.”

Was it his imagination, or did Corrine give his armor a deliberate once over?

“Thank you.” Corrine hugged her sister, holding Daman’s gaze over Maribel’s shoulder as she did so. “I’m so happy for you.”

That set off warning bells. Daman’s tail slid back and forth, tension returning to his muscles with the enthusiasm of an old friend. The witch was being far too kind. It would be one thing for her to try and help him, to leave her sister here if that’s what Maribel wished. But there was no way she was happy about it.

Daman’s stomach rolled. If Maribel’s smile grew any wider, it would split her face. She did everything short of clapping her hands as Daman escorted Corrine into the other room. When she discovered Corrine’s true nature, it would crush her.

If
she discovers it.

Daman remained standing as Corrine settled herself into a broad-backed armchair beside the hearth. There was no fire, the days had grown warm enough that the house held a comfortable amount of heat without it. Corrine took great care tucking her skirt about her, behaving as though she were about to have her portrait painted instead of preparing for spellwork. Part of Daman expected her to drop the act immediately, to whirl on him and tell him how despicable he was and how she would worsen her curse if he didn’t send her sister home immediately. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she tried to blackmail him, tried again to get him to give over his estate to her or else she would poison Maribel against him.

“I got the spell from here,” Corrine said briskly, drawing a book out of her bag.

The cover of the book was heavy, some sort of thick hide, and too worn for Daman to make out the title. He uncoiled his lower half, rising to see if he could peer into the depths of the bag the book had come from. Corrine quickly closed it, stopping Daman from gleaning any clues to the rest of the bag’s contents.

Suspicion tightened his nerves and Daman moved behind a chair, gripping the back of it to keep his claws busy. Corrine opened the book and scanned its contents, one finger steadily trailing down the parchment. Her brow furrowed in thought as she perused the pages, deftly turning page after page. Suddenly, she gripped the book tighter. The pulse in her throat sped up. Daman found himself gripping the back of the chair he stood behind, leaning forward as excitement flickered inside him as well. His tongue tasted the air in front of him as if he could scent what she’d found.

“What?” he demanded, unable to help himself. He winced at the furrows he’d torn in the chair’s material, the stuffing peeking out in silent accusation of his destruction.

Suddenly, Corrine’s face fell. “A dead end.” She leaned back in her chair, letting the book fall closed in her lap with a depressing and final
thump
. “There are pages missing.”

Pages…
The wood frame of the chair cracked as Daman’s grip closed. His claws burrowed into the wood—the only thing keeping them from the witch’s neck. “What game are you playing?” His voice was hot and rough, a sound dragged over burning coals.

Corrine kept her gaze on the book, refusing to meet his eyes. “This book belonged to a goblin. A girl not far from my own age who was studying with Mother Briar.”

Daman went still, even his breath coming to a dead stop.
Jeanne.

Jeanne was a goblin changeling who’d had the misfortune to be left at the tender mercy of Mother Briar. Unlike the
sidhe
, goblins didn’t give one whit for what happened to their children after they left them and took home chubby pink human babes in their stead. The old witch had abused the poor goblin child with no fear of consequences, treating Jeanne worse than a slave, worse than an animal. The injuries he’d found on the goblin still haunted Daman’s nightmares.

“And you need to speak with this girl,” he guessed, horror dawning inside of him, wrapping flame-tipped fingers around his lungs. “In order to lift the curse.”

“Yes. But I don’t know where to find her.”

Pressure built in Daman’s chest, his temper stirring his insides like a cauldron about to boil over. He hadn’t realized until that moment that part of him had believed Maribel, had believed that Corrine would really lift her curse. The wilting feeling inside of him, the sour, twisting sensation unique to dying hope, fell into the flames of his temper like an offering.

“Do you think I’m sstupid?”

Corrine finally met his eyes, brown orbs perfectly calm. If the sibilance creeping into his voice concerned her, she didn’t show it. “I’m sorry?”

Daman held on to the ruined chair, using it to hold himself in place as every fiber of his being raged at him to leap at the woman who continued to torture him even in the wake of the curse that had stolen his life. The wooden frame groaned, broken boards shattering further as he squeezed.

“Mother Briar ssent you here, didn’t sshe? Sshe ssent you here to find out where Jeanne iss sso sshe can track her down and drag her back to the pit sshe kept her in.”

“The pit… What are you talking about?” Corrine raised a hand and touched the amulet around her neck. Her fingernails clicked against the surface of the crystal and a warm pulse spread through the room. “Mother Briar is a kind old woman. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the horrible things people say about witches?” Her voice was full of reproach, condescending and pitying at once. “You don’t believe we’re all evil—”

“I have sseen no evidencce to the contrary.” Before Daman was even aware of his intentions to move, he found himself in front of Corrine’s chair, the thick scales of his lower body pressed against the cushion between her legs, one hand on each side of the chair’s back. “What did the witch promisse you in return for Jeanne’ss location?”

“Nothing!” Corrine squeaked. She pressed back into the chair, trying to get as far away from Daman as possible. “She doesn’t even known I’m here! I came to get Maribel back, that’s all.”

Daman bared his fangs. Corrine’s face drained of all color as she scrabbled to firm her grip on the amulet. He should have backed away, sought some sort of shield, but he was too angry. He leaned closer, flicking his tongue out to taste the air.
Fear.
“You are jusst like Mother Briar,” he sneered. “Too lazy to do your own work, you need ssomeone to be your sslave. What’ss the matter, Corrine? Did my gold not buy you enough workerss?” He paused. “Or are they mean to you?” he guessed. He tilted his head, studying Corrine’s face. “Iss there not enough gold in that trunk to blind people to the monsster you really are?”

For the first time since Corrine had arrived, a spark of the woman Daman had known showed in her eyes. Her skin tightened over her features and she pressed her mouth into a thin line. She glared at Daman and for a split second, he expected flames to shoot from her eyes. Her hand tightened on the amulet and another waved of magic rolled off of her. Something tickled at the back of Daman’s mind, some sort of warning. Corrine was angry. She was obviously wielding magic. Why wasn’t she striking out at him?

“You think you know me so well,” she ground out, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so
superior
. You go around saving changelings, rescuing them from the people their own parents left them with, so determined to see that they get a better life—so
sensitive
to their suffering.” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “You were kind to me when I came here too, but then you found out I was only human. You have no time for
humans
, do you? Don’t care as much for their suffering.” Her nose wrinkled. “Except of course for
Maribel.
”

Daman seethed at hearing Maribel’s name on the witch’s lips. “You were not suffering. You were a spoiled child who wanted to be surrounded with money and servants so you wouldn’t have to work yourself.”

“How would you know what I wanted?” Corrine bit out. “You stopped listening to me as soon as you found out I was human. You couldn’t have cared less what I had to say.”

“I didn’t have to hear what you had to say, I saw it with my own eyes. I went to your father’s farm after you came here, saw for myself what your life was like. I saw your room, heard your father calling to you through the door since he thought you were still there. He begged you to come out and have your supper. His love and concern for you were obvious.”

“And you still don’t hear me, won’t
listen
to me.” Corrine’s breath hitched, her brown eyes glittering. “You never asked me why I wanted so badly to marry you, to stay here.”

“I didn’t need to ask you,” Daman spit back. “You couldn’t have made it more clear.”

“You think I was desperate to marry a man I didn’t love, who didn’t love me, because I wanted
luxury
?” Corrine seethed. “That is what you thought of me?
Think
of me?”

“You used your sister’s blood to fool me, lied to me about your circumstances to manipulate me, and then tried to seduce me,” Daman shot back. “That tells me all I need to know.”

“Of course it does.” Corrine slammed a hand down on the spellbook, glaring at Daman with hot tears in her eyes. “I’m tired of your judgment, your insults. You can stay in that form for all I care, let your anger eat away the rest of your humanity.” She sneered at him. “It’s not like you’re using it anyway. And when your temper finally consumes the rest of you, Maribel’s blood will be on
your
hands!”

Daman roared, the last shreds of control he had snapping as he reared up, fangs bared. He raised one heavy, clawed hand into the air. The tears spilled down Corrine’s cheeks as he brought his arm down, slashing at the center of her chest.

Something struck his arm a foot away from her body, halting his strike with bone-jarring suddenness. Pain jolted down his limb, rattling the bone as magic prickled over his nerves in a sensation like buzzing insects. Daman’s lips parted as he gaped at Corrine. Magic. She’d used magic to form some sort of protective shield around herself. She’d
wanted
him to attack her, had been goading him all along. Which meant…

“Daman,
no
!”

Maribel’s voice shattered the sudden silence in the room, pierced the heated fog surrounding Daman. Dishes crashed to the floor as Maribel dove forward, shoving Daman away from Corrine.

Daman didn’t fight her, couldn’t collect his wits enough to do more than fall away. The fury that had been so hot a moment ago had frozen to hard, painful slivers of ice in his veins.

Daman couldn’t move. The coil of his lower body had become heavy stone, his arm where Maribel had shoved him away ached in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain. Maribel was staring at him, not with anger or horror…but with hurt. Tears shone in her eyes, melting them to pools of blue so deep he could have drowned in them.

Those eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Every scale on his body grew heavier, the fangs in his mouth growing larger until even closing his mouth didn’t erase the thought of them from his mind, the image he knew must have greeted Maribel when she’d walked into the room. He would have appeared as a monster in her eyes, a beast intent on killing one of the people she loved most in this world. His attention flicked between Maribel and Corrine. The bond between them was as palpable as the distance between Maribel and himself.

There was nothing he could say to salvage the situation. No accusation he could rally against the witch that wouldn’t cement the picture of him as the aggressor, not when he’d been caught mid-attack and she was cowering behind a shield, sobbing like a child.

A thousand words fought to escape his lips, but they all died on his tongue under the weight of Maribel’s tears, the overwhelming sense of disappointment, of…loss. A howl built in his chest, gaining volume and power as it rose. He had to get out, get away before that sound broke free.

He fled the room.

Chapter Thirteen

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

Maribel stroked Corrine’s hair over and over, though whether she was doing it to calm her sister or herself, she couldn’t be sure. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions too fractured to be rational. Daman holding her in his arms, kissing her. Daman standing in his room amidst destruction he’d wrought. Daman baring fangs longer than some kitchen knives, wicked, curved claws slashing at a crying Corrine.

Daman looking at her as though his entire world had fallen apart.

“What was I thinking? Great Goddess, what was I thinking? Bringing you here…”

“You love him,” Corrine said, her voice thick with tears. “You wanted to believe the best of him, to have faith in him. I don’t begrudge you that.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything for you.”

“Oh, Corrine, you haven’t ruined anything.” Maribel held her closer, partly to reassure herself, and partly to keep her sister from seeing her face. Maribel didn’t know what emotion her sister might find there. She didn’t know what she was feeling herself. Or maybe she didn’t want to know.

“But I did! I know you, Maribel. I know you love me, and I know you love him, and I know that you’ll never let yourself truly be with him while you feel it’s a betrayal to me.” She took a ragged breath and a fresh wave of tears soaked Maribel’s shoulder.