Page 4 of Lady of Darkness
Charles, your father
I don’t realize I’m crying until a teardrop splatters onto the paper. Swiping at my cheeks, I take the letter and fold it up. Leaning back in the desk chair, I look up at the ceiling, willing myself to stop being such an emotional mess.
He knew they were going to kill him. He thought he deserved it. He probably did, though I still don’t know what the betrayal was.
Can’t have been worse than mine.
Why didn’t the other Lords know about me? I suppose it was easy to hide my mother and I away, to keep me locked up in this house every summer when he was working.
And they wouldn’t have felt the need to check after Archie was born. Why would they? My father had likely never mentioned me in order to keep me safe.
After a few minutes, I calm myself down and head back upstairs, where I proceed to ignore the letter, my father’s betrayal, and that damn pan of brownies. Pulling my Kindle into bed, I begin to read one of my romance books. My throat stings when I think of Alaric and how he would lie down in his suit.
Like he cared.
Because he did. He did care. And I threw it all away by trying to kill them.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a few more calming breaths. There’s a hollowness in my chest, an aching emptiness since reading that letter.
I was selfish, power-hungry, and I thought I was better than my best friends.
Please don’t be like me.
For the first time since his death… I think I miss my dad.
CHAPTERTWO
Harlow
Present
I stareout of my window as the rain begins to slide down the glass in thick rivulets. Thunder booms from nearby, and the sky lights up every few seconds with lightning. I’ve always loved summer storms, and here, they’re even more beautiful, lighting up the green, rolling hills, and old, stone fences. If I squint, it’s as if no time has passed, as if this entire community has been existing with the storms for centuries, bending to its whims. I quickly change into my all-black workout outfit, courtesy of Sterling, and pull on my white sneakers.
If he wasn’t a Lord of Darkness, he could definitely start a leisurewear fashion line.
I grab a raincoat from the hallway wardrobe–probably Cecelia’s–and then I head downstairs for a quick cup of coffee and a freshly baked croissant. Rose is putzing around a large pot, probably making some sort of stew for dinner. I smile and tell her that I’ll be out with Alaric–which is still my go-to excuse–and then I head out to the front door, where a dark grey Range Rover awaits me. Stopping midstep, I take a deep breath before walking up to the passenger door and pulling it open.
Alaric is waiting for me in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
“Hi,” I say quickly, closing the door and buckling myself in.
He doesn’t respond, not that I expect him to.
Ever since theincidentlast week, none of them have spoken more than two words to me. They spend their mornings bossing me around in the gym, and my afternoons are filled with learning about the Lords of Darkness. And it’s not abriefhistory, either. They all make sure I retain every minute detail of every single Lord in the order since 1066.
Next week, we move on to lessons about espionage.
It’s grueling, but it means that by the time they drop me off for dinner at six, I’m so exhausted that I barely have time to think about how I tried and failed to kill them–and how they’re punishing me for it.
Gone are the jokes and the camaraderie. They’re teaching me what they need to teach me out of obligation rather than pleasure, and I can tell they’re still fuming. None of them can even look me in the eye.
Which is fine. I guess I deserve it. But it makes for boring days, and I hate myself for admitting that I miss them.
I miss how they’d laugh with me.
I miss how Alaric would show up in my bedroom.
I miss how Sterling would taunt me, and how Gideon would joke with me.
