Page 58 of Discovered Magic
Why was she so blasé? What was he missing?
“What hardship did he face?” he asked.
Her eyes held approval, or rather, Cookie’s did. The Goddess superimposed on the elderly man’s visage was disconcerting.
“His love was married off to another, thanks to the Fates. A man very much like Bartholomew Mercer.”
Curbing the urge to swear, he asked, “Was it a youthful crush or true love?”
“You are wise to ask.” Her eyes grew sad. It was well known Isis was a romantic at heart and had a weakness for star-crossed lovers. “It was a true love match, and now, she suffers abuse at the hand of a husband she’ll never love.”
“Dear God! Couldn’t Draven save her?”
“The Fates wiped his mind immediately upon her betrothal, much like they did your Abbie’s.”
Rage boiled in his veins, and the desire to retaliate against those meddlesome witches burned him up inside. “Let me get this straight. He doesn’t know about his life at all? Or is it just of the girl?”
“He knows one of the Sisters of Fate is his mother. She hasn’t hidden it from him, but other than his French heritage and an aching sense of loss, he has no recollection of anything before coming to Perdition Ridge.”
Draven’s protective feelings for Abbie made a helluva lot more sense.
“Has he tried to recover those memories?”
“He knows there’s no point. His mother has made no secret of holding the key hostage until he agrees to his destiny. Only then will they restore his mind.”
Wilder considered what she’d told him. “Who is she? Can she be saved?”
“She can.”
“But you won’t tell him,” he said flatly.
“The young woman is inclined to believe Draven is faithless and has abandoned her. But I’ll not anger the Fates by telling him, no.”
“And will you reveal her name to me?” It was a long shot, but maybe with her soft heart, she would provide contact details. “Granted, it’s a technicality, but you aren’t breaking your promise to keep it a secret from him.”
“Wait until the time is right. You’ll know.”
“That’s cryptic as fuck,” he muttered. “But okay.”
She laughed, and Wilder would swear the room lit with her merriment.
“Her name is Céleste Duval, and she’s from a wealthy French Creole family in the place you call Louisiana.” Isis stood and circled him to touch the crown of Abbie’s head. “Cookie is getting impatient, and I must go or upset the balance further.”
“Wait!” He jumped up. “What about Abbie? How do I heal her and get home if I’m battling the Fates to do it?”
“Trust her.”
He frowned. “I do.”
“Hm, perhaps. But have a care, Beloved. Someone covets your prize.”
With those puzzling words, she shimmered away, leaving a dizzy Cookie in her place. Wilder helped him to the chair, taking his place just as Abbie returned to consciousness.
“I have to see her home. Will you be all right, sir?”
“Get on with ya. The day I need someone to wipe my behind is the day they can put me in the ground,” the man grumbled.
Wilder drew out a one-ounce gold nugget and pushed it toward him. “I know you said no charge, but I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality. And if you have more of that stew and biscuits, I’m happy to take some off your hands for Abbie’s father.”
