Authors: Nicole Williams
I focused all my concentration on the space ahead of me and the pounding feet beneath me. I concentrated on the cool morning air I drew into my lungs and the ever present dampness that hung in the Oregon atmosphere dewing across my legs. I’d been a decent runner as a Mortal, but my new speed exhilarated me, and the might of my fears served as the nitrous to my body’s engine, propelling me at otherworldly speeds across the meandering hills.
A black streak came into my peripheral vision, and when I turned my head to investigate, I saw someone else running a way’s off. The speed it possessed identified it as an Immortal, and as it grew closer, the silver-blond hair and confident swagger (even in a run) identified who it was.
“Hey-a, Bryn,” he called out, slowing to a jog in front of me.
I came to an abrupt stop. “Good morning, Patrick. What are you doing out here?” His three-piece suit was telling he was not out on an early morning run like I was.
“Following you,” he replied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “William asked me to get some information to you regarding you two’s little escape plan, and when I saw you exit the Manor this morning with all engines burning”—he smiled, looking amused—“I figured this would be the perfect time.”
“You were really flying. If I knew how long it would take to catch you, I would have changed into more appropriate footwear.” He lifted one foot up to display the clumps of mud spackling his expensive looking, black wing-tips. “Why the need for such a raging sprint at this unholy hour?”
My gut reaction was to tell Patrick to mind his own business—to deliver his message and get packing so as to leave me alone with my wallowing. Then I looked into his face, and saw the similar strong jaw-line and the same shaped eyes of William’s, and my response flowed easily. “It finally hit me why William’s been so upset about the
event
tonight.” I couldn’t make my mouth form around the three syllable word beginning with the second letter of the alphabet—the very thing threatening to take away my every meaning in life.
Patrick shot me an unimpressed look and raised one brow. “You did, huh? Wow, you must have been in agony this whole week racking your brain as to why my overanxious brother would be so uneasy about the . . . event,” he said, his sarcasm leaking through his teeth.
“Why wouldn’t one of you tell me William is going to be on the Council’s list of Betrothals tonight?” I cried accusingly at him. “Did you think it would somehow be easier for me to find out tonight once they announce who William’s expected to be United with?” I didn’t worry about hiding the anger and rancor in my voice. I knew Patrick could take it.
For one moment, Patrick’s eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled in confusion, and then he burst into full fits of laughter. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the echoes from his laughter could have been heard back at the Manor. I fumed while he struggled to recompose himself.
“You’re funny, Bryn, you know that?” He said, once he’d regained a decorum of composure.
I didn’t respond.
“That’s why you’re so upset? Because you think William’s name is going to be on that list tonight?” His eyes stared at me incredulously, his laughter coming to an end.
“Yes,” I muttered. “Why wouldn’t that give me reason for worry?” I tried to match the same tone and expression he used with me whenever he thought something should be so obvious.
“Trust me, that’s not the reason he’s worried about tonight . . . and his name is certainly not one on the list,” he assured, chuckling to himself again.
“How can you be so sure?”
He contemplated for a minute before answering, “William’s always been a serious, determined, pensive kind of person . . . not charming, witty and verbose like myself.” He smiled ruefully as I narrowed my eyes at him. “He’s accentuated these characteristics of himself even more since entering John’s Alliance. He hasn’t earned the reputation for being one of the best professors here without exhibiting extreme dedication and a cold sort of personality.”
The momentary seriousness in his face washed away and amusement returned. “There’s no way the Council would ever punish a woman with a Union to William.”
His explanation didn’t appease me, so my arms remained crossed with doubt.
“Come on, Bryn.” He nudged me gently with his hand. “I told you I’d always tell you the truth, no matter what. Right?”
He waited for my response, so I nodded my head begrudgingly.
“Well, that’s the truth. William is not going to be Betrothed to anyone tonight, and you know even if he was, it would mean nothing to him. You’re all he’s ever wanted . . . and the reason he’s been so wound up about tonight is because he’s worried about you.”
“Me? What’s he so worried about me for?” I understood why William worried about me around John and the Council, or when I was alone—but why so especially tonight . . . on the eve of my escape from this place?
“Awww, you know how he is,” he said, lightheartedly. “Personally, I think he’s a little nervous about seeing you all dolled up tonight after that last attention-grabbing number you wore.” His eyes filled with teasing accusation. “And you know how jealous he can be. What’s he going to do if another guy asks you to dance?”
“Rip his arms off,” I muttered back, my anger and anxiety receding.
He laughed again. “You’re probably not too far off the mark there, and then all of us would have no choice but to run for our very Immortal lives.” He wrapped one arm around my shoulder in comfort, but it felt awkward—it wasn’t the arm that belonged there.
“Come on, let’s head back.” He dropped his arm and stared at his shoes pointedly again. “And could we reign in the horsepower on our return trip to salvage what’s left of my lovely Italian leather?”
“I was just getting warmed up,” I whined. “Do we have to go back so soon?”
“We do,” he said with finality. “You’ve got to go get pretty for William and I’ve got to get pretty for all the ladies.”
I laughed, and its release calmed me. “Pretty, indeed,” I teased him. “You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever met.”
He popped his shirt collar up and slid an expensive looking pair of aviators into place. “Try not to be jealous.”
We both laughed, and I nudged him. “I’ll do my best.”
We started back to the Manor at a much more relaxed pace than I’d left it. I leaned over and picked a purple wildflower, and accompanied it with a yellow one a few feet in front of it.
Patrick was content to let me tarry on at this pace, stopping every so often to add another piece to my bouquet. “Joseph will meet you at dawn tomorrow morning at William’s houseboat on the lake . . . he said you would know how to find it.” There was a tinge of a question in his statement.
“What?” I exclaimed, the flowers falling from my hand. “Did you say
William’s
houseboat? He told me it was John’s.”
Patrick’s face flashed with remorse. “He’s going to kill me—” he groaned.
“You’re Immortal, he can’t kill you,” I shot back. “Answers, Patrick . . . now.” I tapped my foot, and while I’d thought it such an unusual response of impatience when I’d seen it performed by someone else, I could understand the relief people found in it.
“Come on, Bryn . . . he’ll go after my car. He’ll kill him and that’s as close to my death as—”
“Patrick—now,” I interrupted, hardly able to wait until I got my chance to speak with the genuinely frightened man in front of me’s older brother. The tiny, black bikini, the robe that appeared out of nowhere . . . he was in
trouble
.
“Yeah, that monster boat is his,” he answered, hanging his head in shame as if he’d just given away his best friend . . . which I suppose he probably thought he had.
I don’t know what caused me to soften, but it happened without having to make an effort. The flame of my anger was no match for the extinguishing might of my love for him. I wasn’t going to let some miscommunication of boat ownership get me in a tizzy when much more important matters lay ahead of us over the next twenty-four hours.
“What are you going to do to him?” Patrick asked me through squinted eyes.
I exhaled, feeling like a hopeless pushover. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? After that big explosion . . . you’re going to let him off that easy?”
I smiled, as a few forms of mild torture coming to mind I’m sure I could impart upon him. “I suppose I could think of something.”
“Good, do. Don’t go soft on him.”
“Are you going to tell me about you guy’s plan for my escape from this place anytime soon . . . or are you planning on selling your brother out again?” I eyed him from the side.
His dimples set. “Given your preference for early morning runs,” he said, nudging my shoulder with his, “that will be our cover. If anyone sees you tomorrow morning, you should look like you’re going on a run. That means you can’t bring anything with you— no luggage, bags, or anything else that would arouse suspicion you were going for more than just a jog. Do you understand?” His voice was serious, and I saw in Patrick during these more grave moments a lot more of William than I realized was there.
“I understand.”
“After tonight, you won’t see William or me again before you leave. You will have to say your goodbyes tonight . . . without really saying your goodbyes.” He glanced at me to see if I’d understood him, and I had. I’d have to say goodbye without the farewell embrace or the words I wanted to speak.
“I’ll be prepared,” I answered solemnly.
“Joseph will take you back to Pacific City tomorrow and you will stay there with the rest of the family until William meets up with you in a month.” The reminder of being separated from him that long made me grimace. “After that, William will take you to back to Montana. He will petition our Council to have you accepted into our Alliance and then he’ll—” He stopped himself suddenly, and a sheepish look covered his face.
“And
then
what?”
“Nothing . . . and
then
nothing,” he answered quickly, but looked ready for the oncoming assault.
“I don’t think so, Patrick. Wasn’t it you who just told me you’d always tell me the truth, no matter what?” Irritated as I was with him right now, I also was delighted he’d just re-quoted his promise to me moments ago.
He threw his head back, recognizing the conundrum he was in. “This isn’t mine to tell. You’d want to hear it from him anyways,” he answered simply. I’d expected a verbal volley in return, but from his tone, I knew the topic was closed, and I would not be able to negotiate or force any further information from him.
“Fine,” I relented, ceasing my side-ways glare at him.
As we approached the front gates of the Manor, we were barraged with the sights and sounds of bustling figures flitting around the outside; arranging lanterns, flowers and other décor for tonight’s festivities.
“He’s quite lucky, you know? Having found you after several lifetimes of searching and waiting. It makes me jealous knowing the love he has for you, and the love I can see you have for him,” his whisper waivered in places. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find someone as special to me as you are to him.” He managed a weak smile, and leaned in to kiss the side of my cheek. “Goodbye, Bryn.”
He spun around and loped off towards the large outbuilding to the east, leaving me standing there with more needless confusion. This thing with Patrick saying something frustratingly evasive, and running off before I could ask for further clarification, was starting to become a pattern. I was pretty sure this had been his good-bye, and realizing I didn’t know when I would see or speak to this Hayward brother again, caused a lump to form in my throat. I watched him disappear into the endless rows of the vineyard before I walked through the front gate.
None of the bustling bodies acknowledged me as I walked up the drive and through the tall double doors that were surrounded by crystal pillars and lanterns filled with unlit candles. There were floral garlands scalloped over anything that would stand still, and such an excess of ice from the intricate sculptures adorning the lobby, I seriously wondered if the citizens of Wisconsin saw this much ice in winter.
I sighed. Always ice . . .
endless
ice in this chilling place that could easily freeze one’s heart if it wasn’t already enflamed with an eternal fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE BETROTHAL BALL
The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed uneventfully. I stayed hidden in my room, knowing William would have wanted it; to keep me safely out of sight of the increasing numbers inhabiting the Manor.
It was a welcome release when Annabelle knocked on my door later that afternoon. She entered with an elaborate garment bag in hand—the kind that was so fancy you couldn’t possibly imagine what it held zipped within it.
“Hey, Bryn.”
“Hi, Annabelle. How did you know I was in desperate need of company?” I welcomed back. As different as Annabelle and I were, and how I was quite aware she lusted after the man who possessed my soul, I’d grown fond of this young girl who’d shown an exceptional level of kindness to me.
She beamed at me as she hung the garment bag over the door to my closet. “John asked if I’d help you out tonight . . . we can get all fancied-up together. How’s that sound?”