Belmary House Book Two (8 page)

She bit back the apology she was about to utter at his lost look, and when he shook his head without answering, waited until he went to the kitchen before stamping her foot.

It was maddening. He was maddening. She carelessly tossed a log onto the fire and jumped out of the way of the sparks, irritated and sad and hating everything. She couldn’t believe she actually looked forward to boarding a ship again, thinking that a few days of mindless retching might be a welcome reprieve to all this angst.

A light knocking sound made her head swivel around toward the door, not certain she hadn’t imagined it, but a moment later it happened again. A very definite tapping. The view out the window showed only the street and the solid wood door didn’t have a window or any sort of peephole. The knocking came more assuredly this time. Someone was out there.

Perhaps now that Camilla was gone and her hexes were worn off, people were returning to the village. Maybe a ship had landed at the port. She called to Ashford that someone was knocking and he hollered back for her to wait, but the door wasn’t even bolted. Whoever it was could have burst in at any time if they’d wanted to, so she didn’t think they meant any harm. This was the inn after all. They were probably looking for a room. Her leftover irritation at Ashford made her decide not to wait for him.

“No, no, no, Matil—” Ashford came thundering from the kitchen, grabbing her around the waist as she swung open the door.

She was glad he did, because her bones stopped wanting to support her weight and he was the only thing holding her up. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She turned around to see if Ashford saw the same thing she did. He nodded resolutely, an unreadable look in his eyes. Looking back at the door, she blinked, but nothing changed.

Kostya stood in the doorway, sheepishly smiling at them.

Nothing worked right in her brain, and she burst into relieved tears, so glad to see him alive, thinking his death must have been a nightmare she finally woke up from. She wanted to fling her arms around him, but fear stopped her. How could he be standing before them now, a little ruffled, but otherwise no worse for wear? He didn’t seem dead. But was he alive? After the things she’d seen and now knew could happen, she didn’t know what to think.

“Is this real?” she stammered.

Ashford swept her behind him, then hauled back his fist and punched Kostya in the face. “It took you long enough,” he said.

She watched Kostya rub his jaw, trying to shake off the pain of the blow. He was clearly there in front of them, and clearly she was the only one who didn’t understand how that was possible. Taking in a gulp of air and suppressing a howl of frustration at the buckets full of craziness she’d had to deal with the last few weeks, she also stepped forward and punched Kostya. Yes, he was really there, his jaw plenty solid, his grunt of pain seeming proof that he was alive.

Ashford snickered and she hit him as well, hard, in the shoulder. He rubbed the spot and looked betrayed.

“What is going on?” she demanded shrilly, the tears flowing in force at her jumbled mix of fear, relief, and confusion. She held onto the doorframe to stay upright.

Ashford led her to a bench and she studied Kostya as he entered the room. His movements were slow and careful and he eased himself into the seat across from her, as if his joints were stiff, then rubbed his face some more.

“I think yours hurt worse than Julian’s,” he told her. “Really, I thought you’d both be more pleased to see me.”

Tilly sputtered and wiped her tears away, still dizzy from the tennis match of emotions bouncing back and forth, unable to settle on one.

“I am pleased,” Ashford said, sitting beside her. “I hit you because you upset Matilda.”

Kostya’s face fell. “I’m sorry for that,” he said. “But I had to be certain.”

“I did wonder,” Ashford said, leaning forward eagerly and pushing aside Kostya’s hair.

Tilly saw that there was a small bald spot beneath the thick waves and her stomach turned over. It was real. She hadn’t imagined what had happened in the church, Ashford hadn’t been mistaken in thinking him dead. But how was he here right now? She shuddered and hugged her arms around herself.

Kostya brushed away Ashford’s hand and smoothed his hair back down.

“I awoke only this morning and thought I was still in a nightmare,” he said. He stared ahead, eyes unfocused. “It took me some time to piece it all together, accept it.” He swallowed convulsively. “I wanted to be out of that place but I couldn’t leave … I couldn’t just leave them behind. I set it all on fire. I’m sorry. It was the best I could think of.”

Tilly closed her eyes against the image. The bodies had to be disposed of and there was no way anyone would want to use the building as a church again, it having been so thoroughly desecrated. She couldn’t think of any other way, and reached over to touch his hand, glancing at Ashford to see how he took it.

“You did right,” Ashford said. “Of course, I’m sorry those bastards lied all this time, but now we know.”

Ashford’s face went through such a fast range of feelings— resignation, anger, relief, happiness, back to anger, that Tilly couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t keep up with any of it.

“Yes, now we know,” Kostya said dully.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded. “You’re really alive,” she finished stupidly, unable to stop staring at Kostya.

“It’s a curse,” Kostya said. “I’ve had it since I was born. I was told it was lifted when Camilla gave my family the book, but apparently it’s not.” He clenched his fists and swallowed hard. “I can’t die.”

Her brain felt like it was slowly shrinking while simultaneously being turned inside out as his words sank in. She tilted her head to the side as if seeing him from a different angle might make things easier to comprehend.

“That doesn’t actually sound like such a bad curse,” she said.

No matter how she turned it around in her mind, she couldn’t seem to find a downside. Ashford made a hissing noise, and winced as if dodging a blow, then finally slowly nodded.

“I have to agree with Matilda,” he said, clearing his throat and looking pained. “I mean, now that— with Lucy gone… I don’t understand why you would take such a foolish risk. There’s no hold over you now. Didn’t you think of Matilda and me? Unless you truly wished to die?”

Tilly gasped, hoping that wasn’t the case. Ashford reached for her hand, but kept his concerned gaze on Kostya.

Kostya looked like he might be ill, and the words he spoke sounded as if they were being forced from his throat. “Serena is with child.”

After the beat of a blink, Ashford dropped her hand and punched Kostya again.

“What in the hell?” she cried.

Aghast at Ashford’s behavior, she hurried around to Kostya’s side of the table. It wasn’t exactly the proper order of things, especially in this day and age, but she didn’t think it warranted such a violent reaction. She wondered if Ashford’s feelings for his old friend Serena were stronger than he admitted, and guiltily pushed the bitter feeling away.

He stood up and looked like he wanted to do worse than punch Kostya, but paced angrily away instead.

“Tell her the rest of the curse,” he demanded. She’d never seen him so angry.

Kostya looked at her and sighed. “I must live to watch my children die,” he said as if reciting.

Tilly thought of his daughter Lucy, who’d passed away the year before. It had been a riding accident, or so everyone believed. He must have been tortured with fears that it was his curse all along, but with no way to know for sure unless he tried something so rash as taking his own life. She couldn’t imagine how he must have felt all that time, and now with Serena pregnant— Tilly gasped, finally understanding. The only thing she couldn’t understand was the nature of whoever had placed the curse on him in the first place. She couldn’t believe someone could be so cruel.

“You suspected all along that they never lifted it,” Ashford accused.

“Only since Lucy,” Kostya answered, waving away Tilly’s attempt to check his injured jaw.

“And you didn’t think to test your theory before ruining Serena?”

“Julian, enough,” Tilly said, horrified at his words.

“I thought of it many times,” Kostya said faintly, his head down and shoulders hanging. “But I was too much of a coward.”

A tear fell onto the table and Tilly patted his shoulder, scowling at Ashford. He scowled back, but then threw his hands in the air and sat down, reaching to take Kostya’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was a shock. I didn’t mean it. I’m most certainly glad you’re still here.”

“But the curse,” Kostya said, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. “If I don’t find a way to have it removed, Serena’s— our child is in danger.” His normally gentle face turned stony.

“We’ll leave at once, the soonest possible ship, and figure it out at home,” Ashford said. “There’s time still.”

Tilly was surprised at his sudden change of mood. He’d gone from fearsomely angry to sounding nervous in his concern, in all but a blink.

Kostya smiled. “That’s what you’ll do,” he said forcefully. “I shall stay here and wait.”

“That’s madness,” Ashford argued, eyes wild.

He gestured to Tilly to do something, help him convince Kostya not to stay, but for the life of her she didn’t know what to do. It was clear Ashford was terrified of Kostya’s decision.

She shrugged apologetically. “I’m not sure how things can get worse,” she said.

Kostya snorted and rubbed his hand over his face. Ashford shook his head at her.

“Things can get worse, Matilda. Things can always get worse when the Povests are involved.”

“You’re going to fight them?” she asked Kostya. She turned to Ashford. “We should stay and help him.”

“No,” they both answered. Kostya stood and placed his hand on Ashford’s shoulder, smiled down at Tilly.

“When they arrive, I’ll do whatever they tell me to do to have the curse lifted,” he said, heartbreakingly reconciled to his fate.

“You don’t even know if they’re on their way,” Ashford said, getting up to pace back and forth.

Tilly could feel the desperation coming off him in almost palpable waves and her fear for Kostya grew.

“They’re on their way,” he said in such a calm manner, that her fear tripled in size and threatened to squash her. “You can feel it, too, can’t you?” he asked her, then nodded to Ashford. “That’s why he’s having a fit over there. He knows it’s true. They’re very close.”

The two men stared at each other and Tilly forced herself to get her emotions under control. Ashford had told her that getting angry helped fight off hexes or whatever magical tomfoolery that suddenly made her want to run from Rouleney in a screaming panic. And she had plenty of reasons to be angry. Gripping her skirt in her fists, she knew she had to make a decision, or they’d continue their useless standoff until the Povests arrived and decimated them all.

“He’s not leaving,” she said, jumping up to take Ashford’s arm. “So, are we staying or going?” She tried to make her voice sound as reasonable as possible, all while fighting the chills of terror that got stronger by the moment.

“I think they’re waiting for you to leave,” Kostya said in his eerily calm tone.

“You’re not helping,” she snapped, rounding on him, and holding tighter to Ashford. “Oh my God, I hate this.” She took several deep breaths but it didn’t help.

“It’ll get worse if you stay.”

He sounded taunting and she closed her eyes against the desolation on his face. She’d never run out on a friend in need before, but all she wanted to do was flee.

“We’re staying,” Ashford finally said, the words coming out brittle and forced.

Kostya laughed and advanced to give Ashford a hug. “You’ve always been the brother I was never allowed to have,” he said. “They hate that, you know.”

“Good,” Ashford said childishly, and Tilly saw that he blinked back tears, feeling her own well up at what seemed to be a final farewell.

“We’re staying,” she agreed recklessly. There was no way she could leave, she’d never be able to live with herself.

Kostya looked at her sadly. “Shall I tell you why I was cursed? he asked, returning to the table.

He sat down and patted the bench beside him, and she joined him, even though she dreaded knowing more.

“Don’t,” Ashford said. “We shouldn’t be wasting time, we should make a plan.”

Kostya shook his head. “I don’t want to insult you, Julian, but what exactly do you think you can do?” When Ashford didn’t have an answer, Kostya turned back to her and began his tale. “My people like control,” he said. “No one does anything without the permission of the leader of our coven. Nothing.”

He paused and she wondered what he could have done so wrong to be cursed in such a way. The Kostya she knew was gentle and kind, hardworking and honest.

“My parents had two children before I was born, and that was deemed a large enough family. But my mother got pregnant with me quite by accident.” He smirked. “As these things happen.”

Ashford grumbled, but she shot him a look to keep quiet, riveted by Kostya’s soft storytelling voice.