Page 113 of Thrones We Steal

I motion to the flowers at my feet, a bit bedraggled from the wind but still standing. For now. “I need to protect them from the hail!”

Without another word, she grabs the stake from my hand and holds it in place while I wield the mallet. In a few minutes, thanks to the now muddy ground, it’s in place. We follow suit with the others, forming a border of sorts around the plants. It resembles a rectangle that’s had too much to drink.

“I thought you were in London,” I say as I pick up the roll of netting, visible only during the flashes of lightning still rending apart the sky. My heart freezes as I wait for her answer, sickeningly eager to see how she’ll excuse her betrayal. Bea is the queen of justification, and she hasn’t yet been backed into a corner she couldn’t talk her way out of.

She helps me unfurl the netting, despite the wind doing its damnedest to tear it from our cold, shaking hands. “I just got back.”

“Good time?” I holler as we back away from each other, spreading the netting into a thin sheet.

I can’t hear what she says, but she shakes her head. Her blonde hair is somehow still beautiful even as it hangs in wet clumps around her ears. I reach the furthest set of stakes before it dawns on me that I forgot to bring anything to fasten the net to the posts.

“Bloody hell!” My momentary loss of concentration gives the wind all the room it needs to slip in, rip the cloth out of my grasp, and send it hurling toward Bea. I chase after it, and between the two of us, we manage to get it pinned to the ground, but not before a wrestling match that leaves us both panting.

I’m exhausted and my legs are quaking. I slump onto the muddy ground. “What the hell,” I mutter. “This dress is ruined anyway.”

Bea plops down next to me as the rain’s icy fingers trail down my back. I’m shivering uncontrollably, my teeth clattering like marbles in a jar. “Are they worth it?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Probably not.” But I’ve come too far to abandon them now. “You don’t have to help.”

She looks at me, water running down her face and dripping off her upturned nose, and says, “I think I do.” She hangs her head and brushes at the grass between her legs. “I know that you know I was with him.”

Here it is. The truth neither of us can hide from anymore. Two sisters in love with the same man. He chose the one and rejected the other. A classic tale, even if it feels anything but. I shrug before pushing to my feet. “Is this the part where I offer my congratulations?”

She tugs on my arm to keep me from walking away. “It’s not like that. Nothing—nothing happened.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Would I lie to you?”

Is she serious? My hands are on my hips now and my body temperature is rising, despite how cold I am. “As a matter of fact, you would. You did. You assured me you’d stay away from Henry. Instead, you flew off to London with him!”

She bites her lip and to her credit actually looks remorseful. “I’m so sorry, Celia. It was an awful thing to do.”

“Yeah, you could say that. Now help me get this net up before the hail comes. We’ll have to tie the corners to the stakes. I don’t have anything else with me.”

Working on one corner at a time, we get it attached at all four corners. When the whole thing is finally up, I stand back and laugh. “We actually did it.”

Drenched to the bone and shivering hard enough to wake the dead, we stand there grinning at each other like idiots. “What are we doing?” she laughs. “Let’s get inside!” She grabs my hand and we run up the garden path as fast as my dress allows, dodging puddles the whole way.

Our noisy entrance brings a staff member to the door. She retreats to fetch us towels, leaving us in a stoic silence, broken only by the sound of my teeth still clacking together and the ping of water hitting the marble floor. Our laughter seems to have been washed away by the rain.

“I really am sorry.”

I glance at her and, if the rivulets of water running down her face are any indication, she looks genuinely sincere. She did help me in the pouring rain after all.

“Henry and I didn’t go to London together.” She toes a puddle on the floor with her sneaker. “I caught him completely unaware. He didn’t even know I was in the city. We went our separate ways shortly after that photo, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Momentarily stunned and at a loss for words, I just stare at her. Is this supposed to make me feel better?

“I’ve always lived in your shadow and I thought this might help me break out of it once and for all.”

“What are you talking about?” I squeeze a fistful of hair and robotically watch the drops join their siblings on the floor.

“Come on, Celia. You’re always the star of the show. Everything I do, you do it better. Everyone adores you. They just think of me as ‘Celia’s little sister.’”

“That’s absurd. You’ve always been the belle of the ball. Half of Wesbourne is in love with you, and the other half just can’t say it because they’re married.”

“Now who’s being absurd?”

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