Page 79 of Married to the Devil

I wipe my hand down my face. “If I don’t know how they are getting past wards, I can’t make a counter. I’ve tried to craft a charm that can block fae magic, but it’s not going well.”

I wave a hand at the wire on the tabletop.

“Maybe just a ward booster would work?” Connors winces. “I know those are possible to make, and that would make people feel safer.”

I shake my head. “But it wouldn’t be real safety. Not if someone is bypassing wards altogether. The Sova family already had one of my charms on their ward.”

“The appearance of safety is as important as actually securing the territory,” Connors says.

I bite my lip, not wanting to admit defeat. I’ll admit I was naïve when I proclaimed to Stoneheart my intention, but it feels right no matter how impossible it seems. I want to give people legitimate safety, not our best approximate guess.

“I’ll think on it.” I glare at the useless metal. “I just wish I had something more solid.”

“Sometimes what we are able to do is all we can do,” Andrew says, sounding as dejected as I feel. A malaise settles over the room, and we return to our tasks. Rowan trying to add energy with his readying bustle, and my bodyguards taking turns checking the boundaries of the bookshop.

I nearly chew through my lip while failing another attempt that fizzles and leaves a scorch mark on Rowan’s table before coming to the conclusion that I’m done for the day. Trying to weave something into existence in which we don’t know if it’s possible is exhausting. The frustration itself of failing while knowing that I’m operating sightlessly, and that if we had just one or two more details, things would surely fall into place is an angrier churn than indigestion.

I scowl at my materials as I pack them up, and Andrew fidgets. He seems like he wants to say something but with my mood, I don’t know if I want to talk to anyone. Especially a Leonid. Though, that’s unfair since he’s younger than I am and wasn’t involved in Lorenzo’s actions toward my mother.

And he was helpful today.

Get over yourself, Stella. People are counting on you to create security and peace.I take a breath and focus on the teen.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He freezes like he wasn’t looking for an opening. My lips twitch, and he shakes himself a little bit.

“Yes. I—” He breaks off and looks uncomfortable. “I wanted to apologize.”

I blink. “For what? Your prodding led us to realize that we’re trying to solve a problem without knowing exactly what it is.”

“Your wedding night.” Andrew winces. “My brother and I are the reason your things weren’t in the suite.”

Ah. My stomach sinks. I want to claim that with everything that happened, I’d forgotten about the issue that had led me to pull Ben into this fray. But I hadn’t.

The chasm of that night, with contemplating the reasons someone would do such a thing, even suspecting Stoneheart may have set it up for a moment, only for it to be the act of a couple of teenagers…it’s a phantom pain rearing up unexpectedly. Because it did hurt to suspect it to be the Leonids, but it’s worse now to get confirmation that I am unwelcome.

The nature of my birth continues. Lorenzo rejected me so how can I really be surprised that others would do the same?

Ariel asserts that I’m some hoped-for sign, but does anyone else really think that?

I close my eyes and try to release the old wounds telling me that I’m not enough. Because reading that action as rejectionis bullshit. I know it’s bullshit, and I’m going to prove them all wrong.

“Why?” I ask. Because now that he’s torn off the poorly healed scars, I want to know.

“My brother does stupid pranks. He’d already—” Andrew’s cheeks flush, and it’s as if the hurt in my chest is his pain as well. “I don’t have any excuse. I’m so sorry.”

A prank by a teenager. There’s no reason for it to scratch at raw places in my soul.

I am lady of this territory and have a responsibility toallthe people here to look at situation with clear eyes. I pull myself up to my full height, and Andrew by instinct, tilts his bowed head and bares his neck.

“You helped him start trouble,” I say.

He winces. “He’s rash at the best of times, and I was afraid what Stoneheart would do to him if he were caught.”

“You’re not responsible for his actions.”

He doesn’t immediately agree. Has he always been the responsible one? Finally, Andrew clears his throat. “I have been. All my life. My father decreed it, but you’re right. He’s not here anymore.”

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