Page 11 of Once Upon a Forbidden Desire

Rose frowned at me. “How do you know what she looked like?”

My mouth went dry. “Isn’t that how you described her yesterday? Maybe I just assumed.”

Rose’s eyes widened, looking past me, and I turned with sudden foreboding. Lord Bloodthorn stood there. For once, he hadn’t averted his gaze from me. His eyes were narrow slits, his mouth a grim line. In his hand he held the white mask I’d left on the tower last night.

“Put this on, Cinders,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

It went veryquickly and very badly for me after that.

Perhaps worst of all was that I could see them struggling to believe it, even in the face of the proof offered by the close-fitting mask and the other items the search of my attic produced. How could Tawhiri have given such attentions to someone so ordinary and so far beneath him?

“He is trying to shame us,” Acantha said softly, finding the only explanation that fit. I flinched.

“He doesn’t care about sidhe blood or any of that! That’s your obsession!” I flung at my father, whose expression didn’t change.

They locked me in the attic.

Later, after they’d all left and I’d rattled the doorknob and wasted many hatpins trying to prize open the windows without success, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.

Maybe it was better this way. Someone like me marrying Tawhiri had always seemed too far-fetched to believe. I had my freedom now, and I was pretty sure someone would let me out of this attic tomorrow, although the Night Sister knew how angry Lord Bloodthorn would be if Tawhiri chose someone other than Acantha for his bride.

I hugged my knees up to my chest. I didn’t need Tawhiri. I could go and start a new life somewhere. I’d known the man for less than three days. Really, not marrying someone I’d known for that length of time was the only sensible course of action. Wasn’t it?

I thought of how it had felt to have Tawhiri so tightly focused on me he was unaware of the crowd. The warmth of his hands. His mouth. How he’d given me my name back. I could fall in love with that man, given half a chance. But it would be so much easier not to. All I had to do was nothing.

He’d wanted me even without the illusion, knowing exactly who and what I was. Abruptly I was angry. Two days ago, freedom from my dawn-curse had been the biggest dream I could imagine. Now, there was this yearning for a nebulous more. Tawhiri had started to convince me that perhaps there could be more, that I was worth more than the sum of my debts and disappointments.

I wanted that.

Admitting it to myself made everything worse because I was still stuck here, and Tawhiri would choose someone else, thinking I’d gotten cold feet. Would he choose Acantha? She’d spoken out of shock earlier, but it wasn’t her whole character. Maybe they’d be happy together.

I didn’t want them to be happy together.

I heard the clock downstairs strike midnight.

I rose. I beat at the windows with a boot, trying to shatter the glass. I threw myself at the door over and over, until I felt bruises forming. The house held fast. In frustration, I howled at the manor. “Look, I know you don’t like me! But I’m not tied to you anymore. If you let me out, I’ll go and never return.”

A shiver went through the walls as the manor considered this. Tempted, but it would not disobey its master’s instruction.

I began to rifle through my things, desperate for anything that might help me escape. I hammered at the walls and shouted for the house brownies. But no matter what I tried, I remained trapped, a moth in a jar with the lid screwed on tight. The minutes ticked at the back of my mind. How long would Tawhiri wait? My heart squeezed, imagining how his features would tighten as the time passed and it became clear I wasn’t coming. He would think I didn’t want him enough to take the risk.

At last, exhausted, I sank down in the mess I’d made of my room, drew my knees up to my chest, and cried.

I felt itwhen dawn broke. Maybe I would always be attuned to it now. The walls shuddered, and the door unlocked, but it was too late. The ball would be long since over. Tawhiri would have chosen someone else.

I ran anyway.

The white stag still waited in the little copse. I climbed into the carriage, chest so tight I could barely breathe. A carriage ride later, I spilled out onto the steps of the Golden Hall, hitched up my skirts, and ran. Only to be greeted by the crossed halberds of the guards at the doors.

“Humans,” they said, “are forbidden to enter the hall.”

I didn’t have my mask and I looked terrible as well as human, I knew, with circles under my eyes and a nose red from crying.

“I’m—”

“—invited,” a familiar voice said from just inside. Acantha stepped into the light. In her hand was the feathered white mask. “She’s invited, as a Daughter of Bloodthorn.”

I stared dumbly at her.

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