Page 135 of Summer of Sacrifice

No one had even attempted to argue with Tindle when he insisted on a carriage, nor Dulci when she insisted she would be joining him within it. There had, however, been quite a squabble between Gaius and Arielle when he insisted she ride with them. That particular debate had been solved by Seleste, who said she and Arielle could ride the bench seat, and lead the horses pulling the carriage.

King Frederic, however, was also in a carriage of his own, and Grimm had rather liked the plan of a decoy, should their magic falter at any time and the travelling party found out. That did begin an argument, as Tindle was not inclined to enjoy being fodder for a mad king. Grimm had merely given him the option to travel by decoy carriage—since he insisted on one—or stay behind and miss all the excitement.

And everyone knew Tindle could not pass a chance to witness drama.

Winnie looked back at the two carriages. Seleste had begun the journey chatting animatedly with Arielle, but the further they rode, the more stricken she’d begun to look.

Out of nowhere, a form fell from a tree onto the back of Winnie’s horse and Sorscha screamed. It was Laurent—howling with laughter.

“Serves you damned right!” Eleanor spewed at Sorscha through her own hysterics. “After you did the same thing to me, falling onto Gaius’ horse last Autumn!”

“That was ages ago, little niece. Get over it!”

Laurent wrapped one arm around Winnie’s waist, the other hand sliding up and up— She clamped her hand over his, nails digging in. “It is too hot for this,” she growled.

He only snickered into her hair, nuzzling her ear. “The reaper says we’ll stop near Bellvary tonight. There is a manor in the country there, where the king will live out his days.”

“Ooooh,” Sorscha hummed. “Do we get to stay there, too?”

“That seems to be the plan.”

Seleste, Then

AUTUMN,

ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY EIGHT YEARS AGO

Seleste traced her finger over the words.

Ballet de Merveille

This year, the invitation was violet, as was her dress and mask. She’d never answered him, never agreed to his proposition. Yet, the pristinely wrapped box had shown up for her at her rented room in Merveille, the one she used only when in the city for a case. With a sigh in equal measure of exasperation and joy, she rose to don the taffeta gown.

Tucking the letter into the folds of her cloak, Seleste did not wait for the attendant to show her the way to Cal’s box, nor did she leave her cloak with him. She would not be staying long. She strode to the theatre box with purpose, despite the winged beasties aflutter in her stomach. Her letter had been penned the day the invitation arrived. She’d told herself it didn’t mean she would go. But it was only a lie she’d fed herself.

The walk to the box was fraught with sensory memories. The scent of polished, old wood and ladies’ perfume, reminding her of her tearful rush to leave last year. By the time she reached the curtain, her fingers were trembling. Steeling herself, Seleste pulled it aside, suppressing her many emotions when the light revealed him.

She’d vowed not to speak to him. It only made things harder. But he’d grown his hair longer, and a short beard grew on his jawline. All of her unspoken words came in the form of tears leaking from her eyes, despite her other vow to not cry.

The moment he saw her, he stood in a flurry of movement, a thousand emotions flitting across his handsome face.

Unwilling to stay even a breath longer, Seleste thrust her letter out. Cal reached to retrieve it, his fingers brushing hers. By the time he handed her his letter with his other hand, it was all she could take.

Seleste snatched it from his grasp and darted from the box, from the theatre. From him.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

GAIUS

“Are you all right, Seleste?”

She smiled at him as he rode up next to her and Arielle to check on them, but she was far from exhibiting her usual perky demeanour. Gaius barely caught the dismissive, demanding gesture of Arielle’s hand cutting through the air, warning him to knock it off before Seleste answered.

“I’m tired, that’s all. Thank you for asking, Gaius.”

What in Hades did Arielle sense that he didn’t? He almost snorted. The answer was just about everything.

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