Page 51 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
His voice shook in such an uncharacteristic way that Harlow was reminded of the conversation they were supposed to have. “No, I don’t want to go home. Axel is fine with Larkin. I want to see the house… and talk. The way we said we were going to.”
He nodded, seemingly unable to speak, and led her inside. As he’d said, it was mostly empty, though there was evidence he’d been living here. His jackets, hanging on hooks in the mudroom by the back door. A single handmade mug, rinsed clean in the sink. An ironstone bowl of apples on the marble counter in the white kitchen.
Far from the open concept that many people had begun to prefer in newer homes, this house rambled from generously sized room to room. Each space was perfectly sized to accommodate a large family gathering, but there were no ballrooms, no enormous dining room, no grand halls. Only cozy places to gather intimately.
It was like no Illuminated home she’d ever been in. The walls were painted a clean, creamy white, both bright and cozy at the same time. Elegant and rustic simultaneously, the combinations of wood, stone and architectural details were immaculately chosen. She knew exactly how she’d fill the space, with rich texture and fabrics layered in light colors of alabaster, ivory and gold, with books and antiquities on every built-in shelf.
Harlow loved the dark beauty of Nuva Troi, but she wanted to fill this home with comforting light. Her shadows itched to get to work, but she shushed them. A fire burned in every hearth, springing to life from the magic in Finn’s fingertips as they entered each room, and shaded wall sconces were lit dimly all over the house.
“So,” she asked, “no furniture at all besides the kitchen table? Where will we sit?”
He flushed then, color rushing to his cheeks. “There’s furniture in the bedroom… Or we could go back to the kitchen. Sit at the table...”
Harlow swallowed hard. He was giving her a chance to back out, to slow things down. But she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to know what he had to say, and she was willing to hear it all in the bedroom. Whatever happened after that… Well, she was ready for that too.
“Bedroom,” she said.
Finn swept her up the staircase in the open foyer and down a long hallway in an instant, depositing her in a room with an arched ceiling. The enormous upholstered bed was tucked into a curtained alcove. Two oversized chairs flanked the fireplace, as though waiting for them. The walls were painted the same white as the rest of the house, and all of the fabrics in the room were coordinating whites and delicate creams, just as she would have chosen. Above a primitive dresser, near the door to what she assumed was a bathroom or closet, there were nine framed sketches.
Harlow drifted towards them and when her vision focused enough to make them out clearly she whimpered, stretching her fingers towards them. They were his sketches of the house, with her handwriting everywhere, labeling things. They’d worked on these sketches for days the summer between primary and secondary, dreaming together of a place filled with light and whimsy that felt different from the world they knew. He’d followed her instructions perfectly.
“You kept these?”
She turned to look at him, standing in the middle of the room. For the first time in their lives, he appeared helpless to her, as though whatever she said next might actually break him. He nodded slowly, but said nothing, though his gaze burned with an intensity of feeling she didn’t remember having seen before.
“But why?” Tears gathered in her eyes. “Why would you do this?”
“Come sit.” He took her hands and led her to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, which roared to life as she sat. Instead of taking the other chair, he sat on the floor in front of her, so he faced her.
“The last night we had together was the most perfect of my life,” Finn began, his voice rough with emotion.
Harlow clutched his hand in hers, sensing that she would need the support as much as he did. She was reluctant to admit it, but that night had been perfect for her too, the world full of possibility and love. They’d had their whole future spread out in front of them and that night, she’d foolishly thought they’d spend it together.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, knowing that what came next would probably hurt. “It was perfect for me too.”
He didn’t miss the waver in her voice and his hand cupped her face, as his eyes darkened with feeling. “When I got home after dropping you off, my parents were waiting for me. My dad was smiling this manic smile and my mother looked absolutely feral.”
Harlow could imagine it, after the scene in the ballroom at the Metro. She sensed the anger in him and squeezed his hand harder. Her knuckles went white with the effort.
“They had photos of us, Harls. I guess they had us followed? Though the photos didn’t look professional… I never found out where they came from. But I couldn’t understand why they were sohappy. After all the years they lectured me about not getting too close to you—they were always suspicious about how I felt about you. They knew I was in love with you. Hells, everyone knew. It was so obvious… So their happiness… It made me suspicious.”
She nodded, understanding this reaction. His parents had insulted her family so many times when they were younger that she too would have been shocked to know they were pleased by the union—as well as being instantly wary regarding their intentions.
He slid out of his jacket and flung it aside, and Harlow was momentarily distracted by the breadth of his chest and the muscles of his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. The tattoo of the sword, snake and lilacs caught her eye again. When his arms tucked back around her, her heart slowed its thumping pace.
“Go on,” she urged.
“They sat me down and urged me to keep… Gods, I can’t even say it.” His forehead fell to her lap in shame. She resisted the urge to run her fingers through the waves of his dark hair.
“No, say it.” She wanted to know what had driven him from her, what had changed him so deeply.
“They urged me tobreedwith you. That was how they put it. Like you were an animal. Breed with you until you produced ‘viable offspring.’” A strangled sob escaped his throat. She wished she could be surprised, but it wasn’t surprising at all that they’d actually said it. Harlow was sure they’d said worse.
“I was so disgusted with the way they spoke about you that I argued with them. Told them I’d never use you that way. I told them I loved you, that I’d pair with you, bond with you, but that I’d never treat you the way they were asking me to.”
“They just wanted us to have a baby?” Her voice was soft, but of course, given what she already knew, this wasn’t much of a shock for her.
He looked up at her. “No… I mean… Yes… But by any means necessary. Whether you wanted it or not—and who the fuck knows what they wanted with our child?”
