Page 91 of Lunar Desires
My interest was seriously piqued. “Really?”
A soft smile lifted her lips. “I know you’ve been struggling with the magic inside you. How it’s changing you.”
I nodded, my mood sinking from the cookie highs. “God…” I rubbed my eyes. “Maybe I should just sleep the day off.”
“Not before you read this.” She tapped on the notebook with her finger. “I think this will help.”
Juliet Aurora’s diary. Could I bring myself to read it? I mean, I’d read Uncle Jonathon’s, but his words only elicitedfeelings of disgust. Every damn sentence dripped with vanity and malevolence.
My birth mother’s would be a different kettle of fish.
“I’ll leave it with you,” Erin said. “Now. May I indulge myself before I lose my mind?”
Staring at the notebook, I mumbled a yes. Curious, scared, and feeling a headache coming on.
“Those cookies are so wonderful. Thank you.”
Eyes still on the notebook, I said, “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if you ever stop baking them.”
I chuckled, her obsession easing my headache a smidgen. “Hint taken. No ceasing of my cookie duties here.”
She patted my leg affectionately. “I’m glad it worked. I’m sly when it comes to sugar.”
I traced a finger across Micky Mouse. “Was she a Disney fan?”
Erin popped the kettle on. “Massively. Would you like a tea?”
“No, thanks.”
What was her favorite film? Which character did she love the most? Were the answers in these pages?
God, I’d love to ask her these questions in the flesh.
“Read it,” Erin added. “Show it to Isaac. I think it will help.”
I rubbed out some ache from the back of my neck. “Thanks.”
“You are most welcome.”
Five minutes after Erin left with a cup of tea and six cookies, I took the notebook into the library.
My mood brightened a little, as it always did in the mansion’s library. Grander than grand, still upholding the gold-and-terracotta décor of this house, the mahogany bookshelves were huge, lining the curved walls from floor to ceiling on two levels. Filled with rare editions of literary classics, historical texts, fantasy series—all sorts of things. You want it, this library probably had it. And it sported plenty of cozy spots to curl upwith a book. My favorite was a terracotta loveseat by the huge window overlooking the sea. Something about it soothed me, giving me the warm and fuzzies.
I took the notebook to it, got myself comfortable, and prepared myself to begin reading my birth mother’s words under the glow of a Tiffany lamp.
“Here goes,” I whispered, counting myself down. My fingers trembled, my heart hiccuping nervously.
On the first page was her name, written in elegant cursive, possibly in black fountain pen ink. Nice. I was often complimented on the prettiness of my handwriting.
“Got it from you,” I said.
Okay. Next page. First entry dated forty years ago at the creation of shadow magic and House Kingwood. Juliet wrote about her determination to end this threat, to fulfill her destiny with her siblings.
Sadly, when the Battle of Coldharbour Downs hit fifteen long years later, her hope diminished, reflected in every turn of the page, her determination fading. Page after page of desperation, lamenting her failure to wrangle her siblings into action. Details about Uncle Jonathon’s arrogance, saying that he knew they’d win. How slow and steady always wins the race, which Juliet rebutted with a ramble about how they were at a stalemate with House Kingwood. They needed to go harder and faster. Kane Kingwood already had too much support.
I didn’t know much about the former Star—Aunt Janet. In this diary, Juliet was a lot more favorable toward her than her brother, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t frustrated.
