Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws (7 page)

Edward gave her a pained look. “What do we do? Do we tell anyone what happened to us?” His voice was hushed, and his eyes were darting around like he was afraid someone was going to hear them.

“Who would we tell?”

“No one would believe us,” he uttered.

“No,” she agreed, “they wouldn’t.” Although she was pretty darn sure that Adele was connected to this whole thing. She was going to confront her, and this time, no matter how crazy Adele acted, she would pressure her into telling the truth! Then she got a good look at Edward who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. She realized then that as traumatic as the experience had been for her, she was okay now, and he was the one that was jolted to the core. For the first time, probably in his life, his ordered world had orbited out of control, and he was struggling to make sense of it. She chuckled inwardly.
Welcome to my world.
She felt a surge of strength. That was one good thing that had come out of all of the strangeness. She was becoming more adaptable, growing accustomed to the unexplainable. She placed a hand on his arm. “Edward, what happened to you up there?”

His face drained, and he shook his head. “I-I’m not sure. I couldn’t breathe.” He rubbed his neck. “I must’ve passed out.” A haunted look settled into his eyes, and he looked away.

Elle knew then that he’d experienced horrors too—horrors that were too personal to share. She understood, for she felt the same way. The image of Rush had been so real. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the condemning look on his face. Before that, she’d felt that all-consuming love, followed by intense sorrow.
Strange
. Then she stopped. She’d called out to him, but she hadn’t said
Rush
. She’d said
Rushton
. That was the name she’d called him the night he came to her house and took her to the homecoming game. Something shifted inside of her, and she felt a flitter of memory, almost as though someone were pulling aside a dark curtain and letting in a beam of light.
Rushton
. She mulled over the name. It was definitely familiar, and that castle she’d seen … she’d been there before, but how?
More questions for Adele.
She could hardly wait until the next day to ask her! Her thoughts went back to Rush … Rushton … Rush.
Whatever the heck his name was!
As frightening as that dark vision was, it had let her know one thing for sure—her future was intertwined with Rush in some deep, inexplicable way that had started long before the present. She frowned. Had she really just thought that? She paused, sorting through her feelings. Maybe it was time to stop running from the inevitable and face it full on. She and Rush were meant to be together. She cringed. And then a calm settled over her, reminding her how she’d felt, floating in the field of daisies. An image flashed through her mind, and she saw Rushton, kneeling before her and holding out a daisy. They were dressed in strange clothes. He looked up and smiled at her, and she thought her heart would burst from sheer happiness. Life was simple … happy … and he was her everything.
Her everything? Really? Where were these thoughts coming from?
She shook her head ruefully. Now she knew she was imagining things because the Rush she knew was intensely complex—demanding her undying loyalty and love. And when she couldn’t give him want he wanted, what did he do? He turned his back on her in a New York second and started dating Lynessa! Her face twisted into a scowl as a hot jealousy stabbed through her. In that moment, she hated him. She hated him because he was rejecting her, and she couldn’t get him out of her head!

“Elle.”

Edward’s voice jerked her back to the present. He gave her a quizzical look. “You had a really irritated look on your face.” His voice became grave. “Were you thinking about what you saw?”

“No,” she said quickly, “I wasn’t thinking about that. Something else.”

“Well, do tell. I could use a diversion to take my mind off of whatever that thing was.” He shuddered.

She nearly laughed out loud at the irony. No, he definitely didn’t want to know what she was thinking! “I wasn’t thinking of anything worth talking about, I can assure you of that.”

He started the engine. “Okay, I guess we’d better head back.” He looked at her. “Elle, do you mind if we keep what happened between us … until we can figure out exactly what it was that happened?”

She hesitated, not wanting to be dishonest with him, but she didn’t want to make him anymore stressed than he already was. Finally, she nodded. “Sure.” She would keep it to herself …
sort of
. But she was telling Adele, and Adele had better have some answers this time!

R
ushton was going
to be Cinderella’s undoing! Her future with Prince Edward, life in the palace, any hope of saving the manor and paying off her family’s debt. It would all end because she was weak. No matter how hard she tried to get away from him, the pull was too great.

When she first arrived at the castle, she’d mentally prepared herself for a confrontation with Rushton—a confrontation that never came because he’d left. When she’d casually asked Edward about him, Edward told her that Rushton had left the kingdom on a quest of self-discovery in order to come to terms with the dragon attack and the fact that he’d survived when everyone else died. Her first reaction had been panic that she would never see him again, but over time, her sorrow turned to relief. She didn’t know how she could’ve managed to live in such close proximity to him and not be with him.

Edward was attentive and kind, and thus far, her time in the castle had been spent mostly by his side as they took long strolls in the garden, went on vigorous horseback rides, and had candlelit dinners by the water. Edward was so different from Rushton. Whereas Rushton was free-spirited and impulsive, Edward was regimented and controlled, always choosing every word and action carefully. At first, Cinderella had felt stifled by Edward’s stiffness and predictability, but then she realized that a steady routine was helping her manage her heartache over Rushton. She’d even felt a few moments of lightheartedness where the clouds would part, dispelling the gloom. It was in those moments that she felt hope—hope that perhaps she really could return the love that Edward was showering on her.

As fate would have it, just as she was starting to open herself up to Edward and accept her new life, the letter came. Rushton was back, and he was asking her to meet him!

If only Rushton had stayed away then she might’ve had a chance at happiness. It was so infuriating! He couldn’t keep disappearing and randomly showing up! What was she going to do? Think! She had to think! Just because he’d written a letter asking her to meet him didn’t mean she had to do it. She could resist him, couldn’t she? Even as she thought the words, the vapor of him settled around her, and she felt a wave of dizziness coming on. Being around Rushton was so intoxicating that she couldn’t think clearly. That crooked smile that drove her to distraction. The way she wanted to rip his hair out one moment and then fall at his feet the next. Rushton’s steady hand, guiding her. His lips on hers. Fire. Incredible, burning fire. She clenched her fist.
Stop it, Cinderella! Enough!
She had to think rationally! Everything was unraveling. She was on a runaway horse, headed for a cliff, and couldn’t muster the strength to pull the reins and make it stop.

Such thoughts were getting her nowhere. She took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm and then scooted her chair closer to the fire in an attempt to stave off the chill in the drafty room. The thick palace walls retained moisture, making it impossible to get warm. Edward had been her only comfort in the palace, and she wondered how long it would take,
if ever
, to feel at home here in this giant conglomerate of courtyards, tunnels, and never-ending rooms. Upon her arrival at Aandover Castle, Edward insisted that she occupy the large bedchamber overlooking the North Courtyard or “Bailey” as he called it with its manicured gardens and intricate maze of hedges.

“It’s the same room that my mother used before she married my father,” he said.

How she was supposed to feel at home in this enormous bedchamber was beyond her. Her eyes ran along the walls and upward to the monstrously tall ceilings that made her feel so small. No detail was left undone. Admittedly, when she became a lady in waiting, she’d daydreamed about what it would be like to be a princess and live in the castle, but she’d always pictured Rushton at her side, not Edward. Now that she was here, it felt overwhelming. The castle was beautiful beyond her wildest imagination, but everything was so lavish that being here amongst such decadence was making her feel starved for normalcy, like she was living on a diet of sweet rolls and cake when what she really wanted was a hearty bowl of porridge and brown bread. She looked at the silk bedspread with its delicately woven design and the heaps of pillows, the stately windows that were flanked with velvet drapes and tassels, and the plush rug made of bearskin. Her gaze went to the only familiar piece of furniture in the room—the milky white mirror and dressing table that had once belonged to her mother. At her request, Edward had it brought from the manor to the castle. Loneliness settled over her, and she longed for the manor and her simple room.

When Edward brought her to the palace, Queen Loreena let her know in no uncertain terms that she disapproved of Cinderella’s behavior the night she fled the ball. It was obvious that Queen Loreena despised her. She was too stately to say the words out loud, but her every action conveyed her distaste for Cinderella. To Edward’s credit, he’d insisted on personally showing Cinderella her room, despite Queen Loreena’s protest that it was “improper” for him to be in the bedchamber of his betrothed. “You finally have a room that is fit for you, my princess,” Edward said, a touch of pride lighting his handsome features. He smiled, and she had the impression that his smile radiated the light of the sun. She had to keep reminding herself that of all the maidens in the kingdom, Edward had chosen her. She was the lucky one. She hugged her arms, remembering how on that first day in the castle, Edward had come up behind her and whispered in her ear, his breath sending tiny shivers trickling down her spine. “You complete this room, my darling.”

She turned to him, wondering how a prince, someone as perfect as Edward had chosen her. “Oh, Edward. There is so much about me that you do not know. I am but a simple—”

Before she could finish, he went to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. “The best part, mi’ lady. The view.” He bowed slightly.

“Oh, Edward,” she breathed, “’tis beautiful.”

“I knew you would like it.”

She took in the majestic snow-capped peaks in the distance, framed by a crystal blue sky and a smattering of wispy clouds. “’Tis magnificent,” she said. “Truly magnificent.”

“I ordered it just for thee,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “After all, I am the crown prince.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “It would seem that even the mountains obey thy command, sire.” She batted her eyelashes and put on her best maiden face.

“Your eyes burn brighter than the stars in the heavens, and your lips are the color of rubies.” He touched her hair. “Flaxen gold,” he uttered. “I love you, Cinderella.” He searched her face, his eyes earnest. “I would have gone to the end of the earth to find you. We will be happy here.”

There was a sense of pleading in his statement, and she knew he was waiting for her to validate it. “Aye,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “We will be happy here.”

But they wouldn’t be happy—because no matter how hard she tried to forget about him, Rushton was always there. She retrieved the letter from the bodice of her dress and read it again. The words burned their way into her heart, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. For a long moment, she stared unseeingly into the flames. It would be so easy to toss the infernal letter into the fire, to pretend that she’d never gotten it. Yes, she loved Rushton, but what was done was done. She had an obligation to fulfill. Whether she liked it or not, her future was here, in this palace, with Edward. She would forget about Rushton, and he would eventually find someone else.

Her eyes lifted to the painting, hanging over the mantel. It was a portrait of a young Queen Loreena, painted around the time of her arrival at the castle, shortly before her marriage to King Aalexander de Moncier. There was a mocking smile on her face that seemed to suggest that Cinderella would never measure up. Her picture had hung over the mantel all of these years, waiting for the time when the portrait of Edward’s fiancée would take its place. She jutted out her chin, leveling a glare at the cold eyes staring back at her. “Whether I like it or not, I am engaged to your son, and you will accept me into your world,” she said, the words giving her courage.

Cinderella read the letter again. The words swirled around her, beckoning her into Rushton’s world as surely as the moon pulls the tides.

She crumbled the letter in the palm of her hand. How could he put her in this position? If only Josselyn hadn’t given her the letter. An image of Ruston with his fierce blue eyes and ebony hair flittered through her mind. She saw his crooked smile, felt his hand, caressing her jaw. Her heart clutched. There was only one answer. She would go and meet him one final time. They both needed closure—closure to help them realize that they could never be together. Closure to help her realize that he would truly be out of her life and that she would never see him again! A blaring anger seized her as she thought about Wisteria and all that she’d done to keep them apart. It wasn’t fair! She hurled the wadded letter across the room.

“Mi’ lady, what is wrong? Art thou ill?”

Cinderella flinched. The last thing she needed was for Queen Loreena’s minion witnessing her temper tantrum. Millicent was Cinderella’s servant, instructed to attend to her every whim. Even though Millicent was quiet and plain-faced, Cinderella sensed that she was cunning and more complex than she appeared. Her watchful eyes were always taking everything in so that she could report back to the queen. “Oh, Millicent, I did not see thee enter the room.” She smoothed her hair and began straightening her gown.

Millicent went over and picked up the crumpled letter. “You dropped this …” She opened it and started scanning the contents.

In a flash, Cinderella ran to her side and jerked the letter from her hands. Millicent looked stunned.

“How dare you! This doesn’t concern you. You have no right to read …”

“I-I’m sorry, mi’ lady. I do not know how to read,” she blurted. Millicent’s face turned red, and she wouldn’t look Cinderella in the eye.

“Oh.” The relief she felt was nearly palpable. If anyone found out about Rushton, she’d be done for. Then she got a good look at Millicent. Cinderella felt a stab of pity for the sturdy maiden with her drab hair and plain frock. Her cheeks were blotchy, and she looked like she might break into tears any moment. A wave of guilt washed over Cinderella. Had she forgotten so quickly what it was like to be a servant in Seraphina’s house? What it was like to have no hope for a better future? She of all people knew how it felt to be at the beck and call of someone else day in and day out. For Millicent, there would be no prince to rescue her from the doldrums of servitude. Becoming a servant to a princess was as high as she could climb. Cinderella smiled in an attempt to soften her actions. “I am sorry, I am trying to write my vows to Prince Edward, but I cannot get anything to come out right. I did not mean thee any ill will. I am simply embarrassed for anyone to read them.” She smoothed out the letter, refolded it, and tucked it into the bodice of her gown.

Millicent frowned. “I was only trying to help.”

Cinderella immediately understood what Millicent was conveying, for she’d used that same tactic many times on Seraphina and Josselyn. The comment was the closest thing to a reprimand that Millicent dared to give her superior. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “Forgive me, I did not mean to overreact. I am just a little tired and with Prince Edward away on the hunt …” She tried her best to look forlorn and fragile. “I fear being at the castle is a little much for me.”

Millicent seemed mollified. She immediately jumped to action. “Of course it is, your highness. You will get the hang of it. Tonight at the evening meal, Queen Loreena will instruct you on how—”

“Nay, I do not feel up to going to the evening meal tonight.” The words came out more quickly than she’d intended. She could feel the blood draining from her face and didn’t have to pretend to look pale. The evening meal the night before had been nearly intolerable, and she’d suffered through the deafening silence of Queen Loreena and her disdainful expressions. There was no way she could handle another evening alone with Queen Loreena. “I am feeling a little faint.” She purposefully stumbled and allowed Millicent to catch her and lead her to the bed.

“You need your rest. I will have some food brought up for you. Queen Loreena will understand. Prince Edward is due to return late this evening, so thy heart will not have to suffer long without him.”

“Thank you, Millicent. I think I will take the evening meal in my room.” She offered a wan smile. “I will feel better tomorrow … with Prince Edward at my side,” she added.

“Allow me to get thee undressed.”

“Nay!” The protest came out in a near shout.

Millicent gave her a funny look, her eyes going to the bodice of the gown where Cinderella had tucked the letter.

“Nay,” she repeated more calmly. “I wish to relax for a while. I will undress myself later.”

Millicent looked like she might argue, but she only shook her head and got Cinderella settled back into the chair. The moment Millicent left the room, Cinderella pulled the letter from her gown and read it once more. She stared unseeingly into the flames, burning clean and bright. Burning hot enough to consume the letter and banish the words forever. Her feelings about Rushton, the memories, all burnt to ashes. Ashes to be scooped up in the morning and thrown away. She held the letter dangerously close to the fire, watching in fascination at how the edges curled. One flick and it would be done for good. The letter gone. Rushton forgotten. A corner caught fire, and before her mind could process what was happening, her fingers were snuffing out the flames. She couldn’t do it. She had to protect the last tangible piece of Rushton she had left, if only for a while.
Soon
, she told herself, folding the letter and tucking it into her gown. Soon, she would be able to burn the letter and let him go. But for now, for just a little while longer, she would keep it close.