Page 91 of A Bride for the Winter King
She explores the lines of my shoulders with her hands, stroking the skin back and forth. “No more ice freckles?”
“You licked them all off.”
“Well…yeah.”
A full-bodied shiver rocks her from head to toe as I peel the corset from her frame and discard it to the side. I capture her breasts in my palms, testing their shape and weight until she writhes against me, her head falling back on a soft moan.
I move to kneel down, kissing my way down the valley between her breasts to her stomach, ready to tear what’s left of her skirt off and make her come with my mouth again.
The sight of her blackened scab stops me cold, and I stand back up again. My heart gives a violent squeeze as I grip her waist, suddenly way more preoccupied by her health than her body. “Lori… I’ve got to get you that frost apple.”
Her brows pull together in a frown, and she traces the shape of the inflamed scar with trembling fingers. “Weird. It was fine before.”
Serpentine lines have spread from the M-shaped scar, the venom slowly spreading to the adjacent tissue
“Elio! Elio, are you up there?” Sara shouts. Her voice grows louder and louder as two sets of steps echo up the stairwell. She reaches the top of the stairs and stops herself short of enteringthe room, her arms braced on each side of the doorway. “Elio, we have to find Lori?—”
I cover Lori with my body to shield her from Beth and Sara’s noisy interruption, and glare at the last two friends I have in the world, ready to curse them to the seven hells for their constant meddling.
I bite back a scalding “fuck off” and settle for a grumpy eye roll instead.
Beth serves me a wry, knowing smile as she slips under Sara’s outstretched arm. “Never mind. I found her.”
Chapter 36
Poison Apple
LORI
Sara shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she waits for me to button up the shirt Elio handed me after they interrupted our last—or should I say most recent—lapse in judgment.
“All clear,” I call out, my heart beating in my throat at how relieved and excited she sounds.
“We found your grandmother’s name in the castle’s ledger. You and Iris aren’t related like we thought. Your grandmother was working as a maid for the Spring Court during those years. She was part of the staff Freya brought along with her to Iris’s birthday party.”
“She was the one who washed off Iris’s blood from the pavement,” Beth adds quickly.
“She was pregnant at the time. With your mother, I figure. She reported that“—Sara opens the old ledger—“all the blood disappeared with a single swipe. It really freaked her out.”
Elio steals the book from her hands and leafs through a few pages. “Why did no one tell me?”
Sara crosses her arms. “Tell you what? That the cleaning lady had a vivid imagination? Your wife had just died. They thought Lori’s grandmother was either looking for attention or crazy and dismissed her.”
“But they still made a note of it.”
“Clearly, her direct superior believed her, but not enough to stick out his neck. He must have thought it wasn’t worth mentioning. Nobody could’ve imagined this,” Beth says in a pacifying tone.
“Magic sparked off in many dangerous currents that day, and blood magic is known to mess with cells and DNA. Iris’s blood must have altered your mother’s eggs as they formed in the womb. The more powerful the curse, the thinner the thread…but it’s you, Lori.” Sara takes a meaningful pause, her eyes glossing over as her high-pitched voice fills with hope. “You’re the loose thread.”
Beth pries the ledger from Elio’s grasp with a smile. “She must be the only person who can cheat your curse.”
My gaze bounces from Sara to Elio. “The curse that condemns all your wives to die?” I try to clarify.
Sara frowns. “That’s not?—”
Elio snaps back to reality, and the dark, guarded glint in his eyes sends a tingle of warning up my spine. “Shush. Give us a moment.”
He walks to the coat rack and holds out his fancy wool jacket for me to slip on. I tie the sash around my frame. The oversized coat falls below my knees, and Elio guides me down the stairs. We exit the tower through the hidden door leading to the gardens, barefoot in the snow, his magic keeping us from freezing.
