Chapter 7: Deception

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the soreness between my legs.

A quiet groan escaped me as I shifted beneath the sheets. Nearly every part of my body ached, though the pain was strongest around my hips and thighs. The memories of the night before returned in pieces… Pierce’s hands, his hot mouth against my skin, and the way his amber eyes had watched me in the darkness.

Heat immediately spread across my face.

I pulled the blanket higher, even though there was no one inside the room to see me.

The other side of the bed was empty.

I stared at the untouched pillow beside me. Pierce’s scent still clung to the sheets but there was no sign of him anywhere. His clothes were gone from the floor, and the room had been returned to order as though nothing had happened.

I wasn’t sure why disappointment pricked at my chest.

What had I expected? That I would wake up with his arms around me? That we would share breakfast in bed like the married couples in the novels I had secretly read?

Pierce Ashcroft had made no promises to me. We had entered this marriage because our families wanted an alliance, and whatever happened between us last night did not magically turn us into lovers.

Still, leaving without a word seemed unnecessarily rude.

I carefully sat up, wincing when the movement sent another ache through me. A robe had been folded on the chair beside the bed. I slipped it over my body and tied it around my waist just as someone knocked.

“Come in.”

Two maids entered carrying a basin of warm water, fresh clothes, and several folded towels. Both kept their eyes respectfully lowered. 

“Where is Pierce?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

One of the maids placed the basin on the vanity. “Mr. Ashcroft left early this morning, Miss Ruelle.”

“He left?”

“Yes, my lady. An urgent message arrived from Crescent City shortly before sunrise. Something happened that required his immediate presence.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“No, my lady. He only instructed us not to wake you.” She hesitated before continuing. “Mr. Ashcroft said you needed to rest and could travel to Crescent City later this afternoon with the remaining Ashcroft guards.”

I looked toward the windows. The sun was already high enough to pour through the curtains and stretch across the floor.

Pierce had left hours ago.

“He didn’t leave any other message?”

The maid shook her head. “No, my lady.”

Of course he hadn’t.

I told myself I didn’t care. Pierce was practically a stranger, despite everything we had done beneath those sheets. He had responsibilities in Crescent City, and I had no right to expect him to stay beside me simply because it was the morning after our wedding.

The maids helped prepare my bath, then dressed me in a simple pale-blue dress that fell below my knees. It was modest compared to the gown I had worn the night before, though the high neckline failed to hide the faint marks Pierce had left along my neck.

I stared at them in the mirror and quickly pulled my hair forward.

Pierce had said he could be gentle when he wanted to.

Apparently, gentle still included biting. A lot of it.

Once the maids left, I stepped into the hallway. My stomach felt empty, and I intended to go downstairs for breakfast before the attendants began packing the last of my belongings.

I had barely taken a few steps when I remembered the earring.

Two days before the wedding, I had gone to the west-wing library to return several books. One of my earrings had fallen somewhere between the reading tables and the shelves near the windows. I hadn’t noticed it was missing until that evening, and the wedding preparations had left me no opportunity to search for it.

It was a small sapphire surrounded by tiny pearls, and although it wasn’t the most expensive jewelry I owned, it was one of the few pieces I had chosen for myself.

If I was leaving the Holt estate for good, I wanted to take it with me.

Instead of heading toward the dining room, I turned toward the west wing.

The halls grew quieter the farther I walked. My father’s office was located in that part of the estate, so servants were forbidden from entering unless they had been called. Tyrell Holt disliked noise while he worked, and everyone in the household had learned not to disturb him.

I was halfway toward the library when I heard my mother’s voice.

“They deceived us, Tyrell!”

I stopped.

The door to my father’s office had been left slightly open. Eva rarely raised her voice where servants might hear, but there was no mistaking the anger in her tone.

“The Ashcrofts knew,” she continued. “They knew from the beginning, and they allowed the marriage to happen anyway!”

My pulse quickened.

I moved closer to the wall, careful to keep my footsteps silent.

“What exactly did the letter say?” my father asked.

“They have a copy of the original examination record.”

All the warmth left my body.

For several seconds, I couldn’t breathe.

The examination record was the document created by the High Priestess three days after I was born. The record that revealed I had no affinity for spellcraft and could cast only curses.

My parents had always told me it had been destroyed.

“It could be a forgery,” my father said.

“You know it isn’t. They included the High Priestess’s seal and her personal notes. No one could have reproduced those details unless they had seen the original.”

Something struck my chest painfully.

Pierce’s question from the night before returned to me.

‘Did you really lose your magic…or did you never have it to begin with?’

“What do the Ashcrofts want?” my father asked. “It’s obvious they want something from us.”

“The western herb fields along the border and complete control of the trade road leading into Crescent City.”

My mother’s shoes clicked sharply against the floor as she paced.

“They already possess more territory than most packs on the continent, and now they want ours. Those fields produce nearly half the ingredients used by our healing businesses. Giving them away would cost us millions every year.”

“It would cost us far more if they took this to the High Council.”

“So we simply surrender?” Eva demanded. “We hand over our land because they threaten us?”

“What choice do you think we have?”

My father’s voice remained calmer, but I knew him well enough to hear the anger underneath it.

“If the council learns we knowingly presented a curse-born witch as Veyra’s chosen heir, they will remove us from power. Every rival family in Estia’s lands will challenge our right to lead. They may even investigate the circumstances surrounding the gardener’s death.”

My hand flew to my mouth.

My mother released a bitter laugh. “This was your plan too, Tyrell. Don’t look at me as though I created this problem alone.”

“You were the one who insisted we marry her to an Ashcroft.”

“Because we needed the alliance! The rumors about her powers were already spreading. What else was I supposed to do with her?”

I felt like I was stabbed physically. I had heard my mother call me useless more times than I could remember. I had watched disgust appear on her face whenever she looked at me and spent years wondering what I had done to deserve it.

Even after all that, hearing her speak about me as if I were an unwanted object still hurt.

“I thought the Ashcrofts would believe the story,” she continued. “Everyone else did. The priestess who examined her has been dead for years, and the original documents were removed from the archives. No one alive should have known the truth except us.”

“Someone kept a copy.”

“And now we’re trapped because of it!”

Silence followed.

I should have left. Every instinct warned me to return to my room before someone discovered me standing outside the office, but my legs refused to move.

At last, my father spoke.

“The record by itself won’t be enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The council would still demand that Ruelle undergo an examination. They would need to confirm that she was curse-born from birth and that her condition wasn’t caused by the incident we reported.”

My mother stopped pacing.

“And?”

Something cold crawled down my spine.

My mother’s voice lowered. “What are you suggesting?”

“If Ruelle is no longer alive, the Ashcrofts cannot prove their accusation.”