City of Ruin, page 29
“We are not fated,” I tell him. “My brother and mother saw to it, even my father did when he lied to you about my death.”
Ever so slowly, Draven’s head turns and his eyes meet mine. I imagine my father spun many tales to save himself until Draven put the pieces together.
“He told you I was dead to save me. So that you would never be my fate.” I’m taunting him, knowing full well I shouldn’t, but I can’t help the hatred that seeps through my every word.
Draven’s eyes narrow minutely, but a slight grin lifts the corner of his mouth, giving me pause. “And yet, your mother is dead—by his hand, I might add—as is your brother and now your father. And here you are with me.”
My snideness wavers.
“Yes, you think you have it all figured out,” Draven says with a chuckle. “Ignorant for nine years, and then suddenly you see it all so clearly, I presume.”
“I know what sort of monster stands before me, which is all I need to know.” I grip the bedpost, my knuckles turning white. “So do the people of Briarwood. So does Greyson. He will come for me, and you will be sorry.”
Draven walks the length of the room, unhurried with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “Greyson,” he says with amusement. “On a first-name basis already, are you? Well—” He shrugs. “It’s no matter. Like the others, he is dead.” His eyes flick to me. “Apologies, my dear.”
My chin lifts indignantly as I tell myself I don’t believe him, but the truth of the matter is, I do not know if Greyson is alive, and tears burn the backs of my eyes despite myself, though I refuse to let them fall. “The Council will know what you’ve done, especially once they find out you have kidnapped me.”
“Kidnapped? You are not married to Blackburn, you are no more to him than a slave on paper, and now he is dead. And the fire, well, it wasn’t planned, but I couldn’t have arranged it any better. No more pesky paperwork either. And what a shame that the lord of the manor couldn’t get out in time.”
Draven eyes me up and down. “So you see, Selene, I am not to be trifled with.” His tone is no longer amused, but full of warning. “I need an heir, and you will give me one.” He takes two strides closer. “You will give me many,” he grinds out. Whatever the cost goes unsaid.
“What of your wife?” I say, my voice too tremulous to control.
“She is nothing to me—a broken vessel, and nothing you need to worry about.”
I glance at Sable’s shadow in the doorway. “And our children—what will you do with them?” I continue. “Sell them off? Take them away from me the way you’ve taken hers?”
“If you give me a son, I won’t have to, now will I?”
“There are other children that rely on me—Paige has already lost her mother, and you say she’s lost her father.”
Draven lifts his shoulder, only slightly. “If you behave, maybe I’ll allow her to live to keep you company.” He says it so casually, it’s sickening.
“And if I misbehave, you would kill a little girl?”
Draven laughs. “My, you do think me a monster. I could kill her, yes, but selling her would be far more strategic, don’t you think? Blackburn’s daughter would fetch a good price.”
A distant drone catches my ear, and even Draven pauses in his musings to listen. Walking toward the window, he peers out, his body going rigid.
I run to the other window and tear the drapes open. Firelight in the mist. The chanting cries of people. It’s only as a horde of them comes into view with pitchforks and rifles and weapons of their own making, that I realize all of Briarwood has come, and Collins and Raiden are at the helm.
“Greyson,” I breathe, but he is nowhere in sight. Raiden rides Midnight, and my heart sinks. “No . . .” Shaking my head, the world blurs. “He’s not dead.” It can’t be true. He’s Greyson Blackburn, the Collector. Master of Briarwood. My partner in this—my protector.
But the tears are too heavy to keep at bay as the reality that Greyson is not a beast nor monster, but only a man, crashes down on me.
“At least the bastards got something right,” Draven mutters to his henchman standing beside him. He shoves his man’s shoulder. “Go. Organize the rest of the men, and silence these fools. Kill them all if you have to. I can buy more slaves.”
The henchman dips his chin, but his eyes are wide with unspoken questions.
“What?” Draven growls. “You’re wasting time.”
“There are dozens of them. They outnumber us, sir—”
“Go! Or I swear to God, Tinsey, I’ll kill you myself!” It’s the first tinge of panic I’ve heard in Draven’s voice.
“These people,” I say through tears. “They are coming to save me because they are not afraid of you, Edward Draven.” I swallow the sob that wants to wrench from my throat. “You’re outnumbered, and they won’t stop until you are dead.”
He whips toward me and I lunge for the door, prepared to scratch and claw and kick and bite until I get out of this nightmarish place. But Draven is quicker than my hobbly leg and battered body will allow me to move, and his hand grips my loose hair as he yanks me back.
I shriek, falling into him, and while one of his hands wraps around my middle, his other strong hand wraps around the front of my throat. His body is hard behind mine, and I whimper as his breath tickles the side of my cheek. “You are mine, Selene. What part of that do you not understand? I will die before I let them take you. Do you understand me—”
“Then you will die,” Greyson snarls as he strides through the doorway.
A sob of relief escapes me as I take in his soot-smeared clothes splattered with blood. His pistol is aimed at Draven and me, and when he sees I’m shielding the very man he’s come to destroy, his aim lowers and fear replaces the rage in his eyes—but only for the breadth of a moment. Whatever he sees in Draven’s expression makes Greyson’s eyes gleam. “Surprised to see me alive, I take it,” he taunts. “Perhaps you should’ve come to kill me yourself.” Greyson takes a step closer. “Let her go, Draven, you worthless piece of shit.”
Draven’s fingers squeeze harder and suddenly there’s a dagger at the base of my throat. I wince as the blade presses into my flesh. “Where’s the fun in that?” he purrs.
“You won’t kill her,” Greyson says, but I hear the uncertainty in his voice. Neither of us are sure how mad this man truly is.
“I don’t want to, but I would rather her be dead than give her back to you, Blackburn.”
“If you kill her, you will lose everything, Draven. All that you’ve sold your soul for over the years will be for nothing more than a cell infested with rats—a fate you fear far more than death. And I will see to it,” Greyson promises. “Or Killian will, because I received word last night that he has returned. If you kill me, he will come for you.”
Draven frowns in my periphery. I don’t know if Greyson is fibbing or if what he says is true, but the information serves its purpose.
“Your plans are foiling far too quickly for this to end any other way,” Greyson tells him.
Draven only shrugs, the tips of his fingers pressing into my flesh more painfully than the perfectly poised blade he holds in the other hand. “Foiling how? Because your house is burning? I have one of my own,” he volleys, but I can tell he’s trying to find a shred of control to hold on to because he knows Greyson is right. “Or is it because you are still alive? You won’t leave that way—I can guarantee you that.”
“And if I die, what will you do? My laborers are loyal to me and only me. They would rather die than work for you.” He nods toward the window. “As you can see.”
I hear the shouting and gunshots below. The slamming of doors and furniture.
“If you are left standing, Draven, with only the proxy’s daughter, you don’t think the Council will know what you’ve done? They know I suspect you for Constance’s death, only I couldn’t prove it. Now Cecil is dead, and you have no one left to help you cover your tracks—you have no one left who’s indebted to you.”
I don’t know if Greyson is stalling for something or simply trying to get a rise out of Draven before he makes his move, but the harder it becomes to breathe, the more desperate I am to get away from him.
“You are alone, Draven, and you won’t hurt anyone, not anymore.” Greyson raises his pistol again.
Draven steps back on instinct, into a piece of furniture that knocks him off-kilter. The moment the press of the dagger lightens at my throat, I pull away, reach for the fire poker by the hearth on my left, and whirl my arm around, bashing him with it.
With a curse, Draven stumbles back, his head hitting the wall before he falls to his knees. I fling myself into Greyson’s arms, gripping onto him and crying with joy in his embrace. “I thought you might be dead,” I rasp, barely able to contain the despondency inching its way in.
Greyson kisses my temple. “I’ll always come for you,” he breathes.
In a daze, Draven fumbles to his feet, staring at the blood on his hand that drips from his head. “You bitch—”
Blackburn lifts his pistol, about to pull the trigger and end it all, when an otherworldly, ear-piercing shriek fills the air. I cower into Greyson, cringing as Sable rushes into the room. Screaming, she bashes Draven over the head with a vase, knocking him to the floor. As he wobbles on his hands and knees, trying to stand, Sable looms over him, her chest heaving and her eyes almost feral. I grip onto Greyson’s coat and watch with bated breath as she picks up the discarded fire poker on the rug.
It takes Draven a few more wobbles before he notices his wife hovering over him, and his eyes flash with terror as he realizes she will be his end.
“Sable,” he croaks, using the windowsill to pull himself to his feet. “Sable, wait—”
“You took all of my children from me,” she says, her voice so wire-tight it’s barely audible. “And you will never hurt another child ever again.”
Draven has no time to process or react before she twists, and whirls back around, driving the fire poker into his chest. He sputters forward as she pulls it out, yanking with all her might. Blood spews from Draven’s mouth as he lurches forward. Sable strikes him again before she can barely hold the poker and drops it at his feet.
Draven splutters. Sable heaves, hunched over as if she’s used up all of her strength. Even as the most horrid man in the world dies, I cower into Greyson, unable to watch.
The commotion downstairs is drowned out by Draven’s gurgling, and Sable, as she sobs.
Craning my neck, I force myself to look at her, to see the frail woman who has been reduced to such a miserable state.
Pulling away from Greyson, I go to her, slowly lowering myself at her side. She doesn’t look crazed anymore; she looks relieved. And exhausted and broken. But as she weeps a lifetime of sorrow from which there is no coming back, at least there is no more monster to torment her.
“He’s gone,” I breathe, ignoring the pain in my knee as I inch closer. “Sable—”
Her hands cover her face, her shoulders shuddering, and she shakes her head.
“He’s gone,” I whisper again, and carefully, I reach for her. When she doesn’t flinch at my touch, I wrap my arm around her, slowly, so as not to startle her, and I pull Sable against me. “He’s gone,” I say again and again, willing her to find an inkling of respite in that.
To my surprise, the emaciated woman turns into me, her head hitting my chest as she wraps her arms around me. She holds on for dear life, her fingers digging into my skin. “He took them all,” she sobs. “I have no one.”
“You have the babe,” I remind her, but she shakes her head.
“There was never another one. There is nothing left of me to bear. I had to lie—” she chokes out. “I had to—”
“Shh.” I brush her hair away from her face and rest my cheek against her head. My eyes lock with Greyson’s and he looks as miserable as I feel, fearing this woman will never be whole again.
“You’re okay now. We’ll see that you get care—we’ll take care of you,” I promise, and I know, no matter how much Greyson hated Draven, he will do what he can for this woman. His honor is bound to helping people like her. People like us.
There are footsteps in the hall and Greyson whirls around, his pistol aimed at the doorway. Raiden stops dead in his tracks. His hair is mussed, his clothes torn and bespattered with blood—he even took a right or left hook to the face, by the looks of it.
When he sees Draven in a bloody heap on the floor, the tension in his shoulders seems to ease. He nods in satisfaction and hikes his thumb over his shoulder. “Draven’s men—what’s left of them, anyway—have conceded,” he reports.
Greyson looks at me. “We should go,” he murmurs, and only then do I remember Briarwood is burning. Greyson and Raiden step out to speak privately, and I look down at the woman in my arms.
“Come,” I whisper in Sable’s ear. “Let’s get you away from this place.”
It’s an effort to stir her back to the urgency of the moment, but finally, she allows me to help her to her feet, and by the time we make it to the bedroom door, Greyson reappears. “Bart and Victoria are here with us. They’ll take her to Bronson in Emberbrook.”
I nod as I see Victoria hurrying up the stairs. Her dress is rumpled and her long braids fall over her shoulders, but she looks unharmed and as imposing as the men with her shotgun in hand.
“You and I,” Greyson continues, “have someone to get home to.”
Paige. I nod, suddenly brimming with relief. “Yes,” I say, taking Greyson’s hand. “Let’s go home.”
51
GREYSON
Midnight leads us through the meadow that butts up to the tree line, just outside Briarwood. The smoke is visible above the trees, blotting out the rising sun and turning the sky crimson through the thinning morning clouds.
A swell of emotion tightens my chest as I count the ways in which we’ve been lucky tonight. Guilt quickly follows, however. Mona and Martin are gone, and others lost their lives for me tonight—for Briarwood. It’s not a truth that’s easily swallowed, and yet, it inspires me too.
I peer ahead at the throng of people making their way to Emberbrook. Many of them are battered and somber, but they walk with purpose. I eye the wagon of the dead and injured, but I also note the dozens of people who came to fight for what they believe in, and I feel an undeniable pride in that. Selene was right, people would die for this place, and now, no matter what unfolds with the Council of Four, I know Briarwood will never be theirs.
Selene leans her head back against my shoulder as Midnight ambles closer to the manor. Even if I know it’s burned beyond repair, I want to see it. After what happened in the castle, it’s the only home Paige has ever known.
I kiss the side of Selene’s head and wait for the new ruins to come into view as we weave through the trees. “You and your damn fire pokers,” I murmur, recalling that first night in my study. For not being much of a fighter, she’s sure scrappy when she wants to be.
A laugh bubbles out of her.
“I guess I should be grateful you’re so resourceful,” I muse.
“Perhaps you should.” She kisses the underside of my jaw, and I revel in the feel of her lips, warm and soft against my skin. Alive. After what feels like an endless night, I finally allow myself to really, truly breathe.
“You used the villagers as a distraction,” Selene says, her tone thoughtful. “While you found a way inside.”
“Whether Draven assumed I was alive or dead, I knew a mob of angry men and women would cause chaos, if not confusion. Draven thought killing our people made us weaker, but it only brought more of us together,” I realize. “Everyone was more than willing to do what they could to stop Draven from taking someone else from them.”
Selene picks absently at my fraying jacket sleeve. “I’m glad you didn’t come alone,” she confesses. “I worried you might, and—” She shakes her head.
“I knew better than that, even if I’d wanted to,” I say softly. “The voice of an opinionated governess was in my head, telling me I had an entire estate who would fight for Briarwood. For you.”
She cranes her head to peer up at me. “Really?” She smiles proudly.
I nod. “I might be stubborn, but I do listen.”
Whatever pride she feels seems to vanish just as quickly. “How many did we lose today?” Her voice is grim, but I hang on to one single word. We.
I stare into her eyes, our bodies swaying together in the saddle as I lose myself in the thought of us and our future together—the future of Briarwood. “Eleven,” I confess. “To my knowledge, at least.”
Selene’s brow crumples. “It could’ve been worse, but still, it’s far too many.”
“Yes,” I agree. “It is.” And I see the same melancholy in her eyes that fills my heart. “Many will mourn their friends and loved ones today.”
“And your brother?” she asks. “You lied about him returning?”
I nod, my concern for him only festering. “Chauncey has heard nothing. I still have no idea where he is.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathes, but I smile, willing her to be happy in this moment. “There is much to be thankful for. Let us sit with that a while longer.”
Selene chews on the side of her cheek as we continue riding in silence through the dogwoods, the rest of the villagers farther ahead.
Eventually, what’s left of the collapsing manor house comes into view, metal beams and crumbled brick and stone. But even as the smoke billows from the remains, my heart feels lighter, like the final tether to my haunting past has been snipped.
“Our home is gone,” Selene says, and it’s not the dwindling flames or the rubble that makes my eyes prick with emotion, but her.
I kiss her temple. “We will build a new home,” I promise her.
