Page 8 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
Harlow wanted to apologize a hundred ways, to say how sorry she was for letting things get so bad. Her mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to begin.
He drew her into another hug. “I should have asked you to come sooner.”
Harlow felt all the tension leave her body. She and Enzo had been friends since before even she and Finn, since their parents had been close for ages. The distance of the last two years had been a strain, but in that one hug, she felt she was forgiven.
There hadn’t been fights or conflict when she’d moved in with Mark, just worry and tension about his growing control over her. Everyone in her life within the lower Orders had warned her about the human obsession with magic and the world of those descended from the Illuminated. They’d warned her that Mark’s interests might not be entirely focused on her, but on her status in the Order of Mysteries, as her mothers were on the high council of sorcière.
And there was always the subtle concern over what Harlow wasn’t saying about things between her and Mark. Enzo had been the most worried, knowing better than anyone how long it had taken for her to recover from her only other true relationship, and he’d made no secret of how concerned he was with Mark’s behavior. Harlow hadn’t listened to any of her family or Enzo about the warning signs, and had been frustrated that they’d been right in the end.
Now, six months outside Mark’s influence, she saw all too clearly how foolish she’d been. He'd isolated her slowly and carefully, until he thought she’d do anything he asked. When she wouldn’t give up her Order’s secrets, he’d kicked her out of their home, and the life she thought they were building together, cutting her off completely.
Putting things back together had been an exercise in humility. Harlow made amends to her family first, slowly over the last few months. She’d gone back to her work at the Monas, after a hiatus working in a human bookstore that Mark had approved of, and that had helped things with her sisters. Her mothers had been the first to welcome her back, no questions asked. But she hadn’t known how to tell Enzo he was right about Mark, maybe because he was the only one who’d known her, who’d been to their apartment, who’d actuallytriedto see what she saw in Mark and who’d still seen the truth of the situation.
That all seemed far away now, as she stepped into Enzo’s atelier. Burnished wooden racks of vintage and antique clothing mixed with Enzo’s own couture creations throughout the light-filled space. The walls were painted midnight blue, and an enormous vase of curly willow branches and fragrant eucalyptus graced a round pedestal table at the center of the room. Plush, patterned rugs in deep ruby reds covered the slate floors and an enormous crystal chandelier gave the entire shop an air of luxurious artistry.
Wooden mannequins modeled Enzo’s most exquisite creations, gowns of unparalleled beauty, touched with his magic in every stitch. He and Thea were very similar in that both their artistic proclivities were strong before their magic took hold, and now that they were in their mid-twenties, their artistry was amplified by their magical abilities, a natural extension of themselves.
Harlow wished she knew how her magic would manifest. She could do basic spells of protection, glamours of all kinds, and had an extensive education in magical lore, history, and craft, of course. As a sorcière, this was the way she grew up, learning the ways of mystery, and how to bend the filaments of magic, that held aether itself, to her will. But her own special ability, the way her own magic would carve the path of her life, refused to make itself known.
“Oh, Enzo,” she breathed, pushing her own disappointment aside to be happy for her friend. “It’s perfect.”
He grinned, his straight white teeth dazzling as dimples punctuated his joy. She clasped his arm, filled with true happiness. It was easy to be happy for Enzo; she loved him, and being here, feeling their bond reforming itself moment by moment, was just what she needed. Harlow had tried so hard when she was with Mark to forget how much she missed Enzo and her sisters, but she never could.
Shame filled her for how she’d treated them, but she tried to push it aside, deflect it before he caught on. “I see your name a lot in Section Seven.”
“Attached to all the most stylish socialites of the Orders, of course,” he laughed.
It was true, he dressed the most elegant members of the lower Orders, and the Illuminated were some of his best clients. “I doubt I can afford your custom gowns these days, but I’m here for whatever vintage you can armor me in. I’ve been roped into the season.”
Enzo pulled her onto the soft leather couch at the center of the shop. “The maters are finally insisting? Is it because of the McKays’ interest in the Row?”
Of course he already knew. The gossip was out and it would make this whole thing even worse. She nodded. “Are you dressing Finn? Was he the client?”
Enzo grimaced. “Yes… Are you mad?”
“No, no. Of course not. Business is business and the Illuminated are good customers, even the McKays.”
“Harls… I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think Finn’s changed.”
A long silence passed between them.
“You’re right. I can’t hear that. You know what he did. How he hurt me.”
“I do. I’ll never forget it. He hurt me too, you know? But he’s been here four times since he’s been back from Nea Sterlis and he seems different. Like the old Finn. We even went for coffee last week. He asked about what types of guys I was interested in these days and offered to introduce me to a few of his friends he thought I might pair well with during the season. He wasn’t just being nice either. He was… like he used to be.”
Harlow swallowed hard. The three of them had been so close in school, and then one day Finn snapped, and Harlow and Enzo weren’t good enough for him anymore. She shook off the memories before she could fall into that abyss.
“Did he apologize? Did he explain himself? Did he say why he spent our entire sixth year making our lives a living hell?”
Enzo cupped her cheeks in his hands. The familiarity of the gesture warmed Harlow’s heart. “First of all, Petra is the one who did most of the misery-making, so let’s put the blame for that where it belongs. Second, I didn’t ask him to explain or apologize. I don’t have to.”
He was right. Petra Velarius had done most of the work to turn Harlow and Enzo into social pariahs, but Finn had done nothing to stop her. He’d just walked away from them both and never looked back, until now, apparently. A sob caught in her throat as Enzo’s words fully sunk in; he hadn’t askedherto apologize either. One of his many gifts was his deep empathy, his magical ability to see what was on people’s hearts. He’d forgiven her instantly, as soon as he recognized the apology that welled in her; she’d felt it happen.
“I wish I had your abilities,” she said, understanding his change of heart when it came to Finn, but not able to trust it herself. The McKays were poisonous vipers, and even if Finn wasn’t aligned with what they were doing now, he wasn’t innocent either. “But I can’t trust him. You understand?”
Enzo nodded. “I do. It was different with the two of you. I get it.”
She took his hands and squeezed. “I am just really,reallyhappy to have your help getting ready for this. You know how nervous these things make me.”
