Page 64 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
“Something private,” Weston growls. “So I suggest you walk right back out.”
Brendan makes a swatting motion in our direction and ducks away, practically diving through the door in his haste to retreat. I start to unwind myself from Weston, but he doesn’t let me. He picks me up from the counter and carries me to the bed as if it costs him nothing.
He sets me down and digs in my trunk for a dress, which he hands over. While I tug the thing on, he searches for ourfallen clothes and steps into his breeches. That done, he makes for the door.
“Stay here,” he says.
I don’t, of course. The second I’m decent, I rush out after him. Brendan waits in the middle of the clearing, red-cheeked and fuming. Weston barrels toward him, and...
Oh.
I know what’s going to happen well before it does, because I’ve seen that same stride in the ring. Seen him prowl like that, every step bursting with intent.
Sure enough, Weston reaches my brother, cocks back a fist, and drives it straight into Brendan’s face.
My brother careens backward, landing on his back in the grass. Weston spits and makes a noise that’s part animal, then stands there, his back heaving, his fists clenched at his sides.
“You traitor.” It’s a deadly shout that’s also somehow half-whisper. “You miserable asshole. You selfish fuck.”
“Me?” Brendan’s indignant holler startles a raven from a nearby tree. “Me, selfish? When you’re the one who just had your hands on my sister? How does that make sense? And what the hell did you just hit me for?”
“For promising Bria to a man whotorturedher,” Weston spits. “For the fact that she almost died in Alverton’s custody. And for what? So you could buy yourself another fucking waistcoat?”
Brendan sits up, blinking hard. He drags the back of a hand across his mouth, seemingly surprised when it comes away coated in red. “I... What?”
“He almost killed her!” Weston shouts with unallayed fury. “He locked her in a room without a drop of water! For days!”
My brother’s eyes pop wide. His gaze seeks mine as if magnetized. And when his stare locks into place, I see it.
The moment he realizes my throat is bare.
All the color drains from his cheeks. His attention jumps to Weston, plainly searching for confirmation. Which he finds, of course.
He chokes on his own air supply. “What the... What’d you do? What the hell did you do to Bria?”
Exactly what I asked him to, I want to shout, only I can’t get the words out, because Weston rears back from Brendan’s vitriol as if stabbed.
It’s the worst thing my brother could have said. The one thing guaranteed to wound.
I force my frozen tongue to cooperate. “Brendan, no. It’s not like that. I asked him to?—”
My words die as movement at the treeline catches my eye. A man on horseback stands at the edge of the clearing, his features obscured by the brim of his hat. But even at this distance, a chill of recognition skitters down my spine. My bare toes curl into the grass.
Not possible.
Yet even as denial surges up my throat, the man coaxes his mount forward. Light hits his face. Air abandons my lungs as readily as if someone punched me in the stomach.
“Dad?”I say.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My father’s face settles into stern lines as he takes in the scene—Weston with his fists clenched, Brendan with blood dripping from his chin, me in my simple dress, my triquetra stripped away.
And I catch it, even from twenty feet away. A towering disappointment rising in my father’s eyes. A whole, looming wall of it, threatening to collapse and bury me beneath the rubble.
He just witnessed this entire exchange.
“What’s he doing here?” I say to Brendan—not accusing, just...flabbergasted. Beyond confused. Blank.
