Bound (Bound Trilogy) (7 page)

I spun around and raced downstairs, excited about something for the first time in as long as I could remember.

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I fell easily back into the routines of life at Stone Ridge, helping Matthew prepare the gardens for winter, putting up storm windows, feeding the animals and cleaning the barn. Aquila watched us from the tree, huddled close to the trunk where he was nearly indistinguishable from the bark.

I tried to visit Aunt Victoria that afternoon, but her bedroom door was locked, and she refused to answer when I knocked. She rarely left that room anymore, but I’d hoped she would at least let me in.

After Della and Matthew went to bed that evening I sneaked some raw meat from the cold storage to my room, and Aquila ate while I went to the bedroom and changed into my sleep clothes. When I returned, he seemed to be waiting for me. I took out my charcoals and sketched him for a while, but it didn’t relax me the way it usually did.

After a few hours of lying in bed with thoughts churning through my mind, I got up to find a book to read. Aquila was dozing on a chair, and woke when I passed. He hadn’t done anything unusual all day. Maybe I’d been wrong about the magic.

He stretched his neck out toward me, and I reached out tentatively to stroke the feathers on his head. He
squorked
softly as he side-stepped his way toward the table and the window. I decided to leave the books alone for a while and followed him instead.

The moon was full and hazy behind the thin clouds that stretched across the sky, bathing the flower garden beneath my window in cool light. Most of the flowers had died off or gone to sleep for the winter, but the cherry tree still held its strange mix of flowers and fruits, and the rose and lilac bushes were covered in blooms. I opened the window, and Aquila stepped out.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” I asked, and he glanced back from his perch in the tree. “I was six years old when my parents sent me to live here. I hated it here at first, but I remember how pleased I was when I learned that the flowers didn’t wilt or fade until well into the winter. Everything in the garden bloomed longer back then, the flowers and the trees. When I was little, I used to think it was because the garden was in love with my aunt. She cared so much for it, like it was a child or a friend, and I thought that the flowers were the garden’s way of loving her back. Now that she doesn’t go out there anymore, the flowers only bloom when they’re supposed to. The trees have longer memories, though.”

Aquila fluffed his feathers.

“I know, it’s stupid.” I leaned farther out the window. “Matthew told me it’s just because the trees were cultivated over generations to bloom long and bear extra fruit. He doesn’t have as much time to tend the flowers as Victoria did, so they die off more quickly. I still sometimes like to think it was magic, though. It was the only bit of it I ever really had, until you came along.”

I was about to duck back into the warm room when a frail shadow passed through a patch of moonlight below us. Aunt Victoria’s thinning blond hair was twisted into a bun that left strands floating loose around her face. She wore only her nightgown, but carried a winter scarf in each hand, trailing on the ground. She paused for a moment, then hurried down a side path before I could call out to her. I ran to the bedroom, pulled on a sweater and grabbed a second one for her, and raced down the stairs and out the kitchen door.

There was no sign of her when I reached the garden. I searched down the path, circled around past the peonies and looked in the dark stone garden shed, then took my time searching the area again. She was gone.

I turned back to the house, where a thin silhouette paced by the windows in my aunt’s room.
At least she’s warm now,
I thought, but it didn’t ease my nerves. She never went near the gardens anymore. I pulled my sweater tighter to my body and walked back to the corner where the old well lay buried in rocks. The breeze shifted the branches above me, and a patch of moonlight revealed the dull nighttime colors of the hand-knitted, wool scarves she’d left on the ground.

Something crashed into the bushes. An airy shriek escaped me before Aquila climbed out of the tangled mess of ivy vines that covered the ground beneath the rose bush. He managed to flap onto the bench behind me, and I laughed a little at the sight of him standing there with his long toes splayed out on the cold stone, acting like nothing unusual had just happened. He glared at me, and it was hard not to laugh harder at how insulted he looked.

I sat beside him, pulling my feet close under my body to warm them. “It feels strange to be laughing out here again.” Aquila wouldn’t understand, but I wanted to talk and he seemed like a good listener. A tolerant one, anyway.

“They died right over there. The twins.” My voice caught in my throat, all traces of laughter gone. “I didn’t know them well. My mother had me move back to town when Aunt Victoria was pregnant. I wanted to stay and help, but Mother said that finding a husband had to be my priority. Aunt Vic and Uncle Ches were so excited to have a baby. They’d given up hope.” I smiled a little at the memory, bittersweet as it was. “When we found out it was twins, my mother practically had to chain me to the floor to keep me from coming back. I met them a few times. They were sweet little boys. Uncle Ches always said they’d be a boatload of trouble later, but he laughed whenever he said it.

“I wasn’t here when they disappeared, a while after they started walking. They were gone for three days and every person in the area was looking for them when—” I had to take a few deep breaths before I could finish. “When Uncle Ches found them in that old, dried-up well. I don’t think anyone even remembered it was there. We don’t know what happened, how they got out of the house, whether one followed the other or they went in together, whether they died right away or…” I couldn’t finish that thought. “Anyway, Ches and Victoria have gone through hell this past year. He’s tried to move on, but she can’t. She spends most of her time in her rooms thinking the boys are playing somewhere else in the house. When she remembers that they’re not, she won’t get out of bed. Won’t see anyone.

“This garden was one of the best parts of my childhood, and it should have been for Jacob and Leram, too. None of it makes any sense.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, and tears started rolling out. By the time most of them had soaked into the sleeves of my sweater, the cold had caught up with me and I was shivering hard.

“I guess me freezing to death out here’s not going to change the past.” I wiped a sleeve across my face and stood. “Thanks for listening.” Aquila looked up at me, then out over the garden. I went to the pile of stones that covered the well and placed a rock on top of the scarves to hold them in place. “I’m going in,” I told him. “You’d better decide whether you’re in or out tonight, because I’m shutting the window.”

He chose in. I collapsed into bed and felt the approach of the deep sleep that had eluded me earlier. The last thing I heard was the rustle of feathers in the next room.

Chapter Eight

Rowan

T
hree days passed in relative peace. My aunt didn’t return to the garden, but she did allow me to have tea with her one afternoon. Aquila showed no further signs of being unusual, except that he was the quietest and cleanest animal I’d ever met and managed to stay hidden from everyone else in the house. When the rain forced me indoors, I kept myself busy organizing my uncle’s library.

It was a fine respite from my regular life, but I knew it couldn’t last.

On the morning of my fifth full day at Stone Ridge the door to my room slammed open, jolting me awake. Footsteps thundered across the wood floor of the sitting area and into my bedroom. Someone landed on top of me with a loud cry of, “Get up, get up, get
up
!”

I grabbed the heavy feather pillow from under my head and used it to whack the intruder, who shrieked and bounced back onto the floor. I groaned as my cousin ripped the blankets off of the bed and flopped down beside me, out of breath and laughing. “Come on, sleepyface,” she said, grinning. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

I squinted at her and tried to look angry. “Felicia, I wouldn’t be happy to see Prince Charming himself if he woke me up by jumping on me.”

She giggled and brushed her golden curls back from her face. “That might not be so bad, you know.”

“Filth,” I muttered, and grinned back at her. That was the problem with Felicia. She was always so damned happy that I couldn’t stay mad at her, even when I wanted to. When I was a child at Stone Ridge, I looked forward to visits from Felicia more than I did trips to see my parents.

She rolled over and stared at me with a mock-serious expression. “We have much to discuss. But first, get thine self to a washing chamber and clean thy teeth. Thou art offending my delicate sensibilities.”

“Says the girl who smells like the horse that brought her here.” I rolled out of bed and raced through the doorway before she could smack me. Felicia always got me into trouble when we were kids, getting me to join in on whatever trouble she was causing. Now that we were grown, she still brought out the wildest and most childish part of me. I’d missed that.

There was no sign of Aquila in the sitting room. I couldn’t blame him for disappearing when that strange, noisy person burst in. I leaned out the window and came face-to-beak with him sitting in the cherry tree. “Sorry,” I whispered. He didn’t look impressed.

When I returned, Felicia was looking at the books on my shelf. She took a seat in an armchair with her legs crossed under her, and I sat in front of her on the floor. She pulled a brush out of her bag and went to work on my hair. She’d treated me like a doll since the first time she came to visit me at Stone Ridge. I never complained. It was relaxing.

“You know why I’m here?” she asked at last.

“You missed me?” I winced as she tugged at a knot in my hair. I’d known as soon as I saw her why she’d come. I might have temporarily forgotten about Callum’s letter, but my mother hadn’t, and she’d sent someone to remind me. I gritted my teeth, and reminded myself that it wasn’t Felicia I was angry with.

“Ro, you have a proposal. A good one, from a great guy. I’m here to make sure you don’t make a mess of it.”

“You don’t seem to have much faith in me.”

Felicia sighed and set the brush in her lap. “You know I love you like a sister, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s with love that I say no, I don’t. Remember when you had a proposal from that mayor’s son, and you turned that down? I supported you. He was dreadfully dull, and obviously wanted you for your family history.”

Harsh, but true. My mother and my sisters’ success in having healthy children, plus the fact that my family had no history of adults using magic, made me more desirable than I’d have otherwise been. Felicia would have managed to use that to her advantage. I hadn’t.

“But Callum,” she continued. “He’s perfect. He’s rich, he’s sweet, he’s gorgeous. He’s going to do great things. I can’t tell you how many girls in Ardare would love to get their claws into him. But he’s ignored them and courted you. He sent you a proposal, and you didn’t even tell your mother, or send me a letter to let me know.” She sounded hurt. “It seems like you’re still undecided, and I’m sorry, but you really can’t afford to be. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what my problem is.” I tried to keep my voice steady. It always betrayed me when I was upset. “I know what’s expected of me. Even if Aunt Vic and Uncle Ches didn’t make a big deal out of it, I’ve always known. And I know that it’s inevitable. I’m not going to disappoint my family and hurt Callum, and if I did I’d regret it, soon. I care about him, I really do.” I reached up to play with my hair, and Felicia leaned forward to gently move my hand away.

“But you’re not happy about it.”

The concern in her voice undid me in a way my mother’s nagging never could. My throat tightened. “I want to be happy. There’s something wrong with me, Lecia. I don’t think I love him.”

“Oh, honey, you will!” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me. “You just don’t know him well enough yet. I wish your parents had let you move in with me. You would feel so much better about this if you lived in Ardare and saw Callum more often.”

“Maybe.” I scooted around to face her. “It just seems like I should feel more for him. He’s amazing. I just don’t feel any passion when he kisses me.” My cheeks grew warm. I was used to reading about this, not discussing it. “I don’t burst into flames when he says my name. I don’t pine for him when we’re apart. I don’t feel…
that
. And I don’t know that he does, either.”

She tilted her head to the side. “So you haven’t slept with him yet?”

“No.” My face grew warm. “It’s not that I’m opposed to the idea, but it’s never seemed right. And when I think about it, I just hear Miss Persimmon’s lectures from that marriage preparation class Mother made me take last year.”

Felicia laughed. “I promise, it’s far more enjoyable than the old ladies make it sound. They just want to make sure you know how to make babies, but you only need to worry about that in the weeks before your annual cycle. The rest of the time it’s fun and practice. And more fun. Maybe even a happy accident. When’s yours due this year?”

“Just finished,” I admitted.

“Ugh. Don’t tell anyone. Let them think you can make a baby sooner. Like, right after the wedding. Or before, even.”

“Callum didn’t drop me when I told him about my headaches. I doubt a year of practice before my next chance to get pregnant is going to end things.” I thought back to the last time Callum had kissed me. It was sweet. Safe. Warm.
Maybe that’s just how it starts.

Felicia reached out to squeeze my hand and got up from the chair. Cold panic washed over me as she went to the window and leaned out for a breath of fresh air, but it seemed Aquila had moved. Something on the table caught her eye, though. The fairy tale book. Felicia held it up and raised her eyebrows. “Are you supposed to have this?”