Page 12 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

11

brIDE

The sound of a pounding fist on the other side of the door echoed through the room.

“Ready yet?” Ellin called.

Despite Ellin knowing that all of this was fake, Rowin’s sister had seemed to enjoy dressing up Genevieve like her own personal doll.

When Genevieve finally turned to face herself in the full-length mirror—which Ellin had Sevin drag into the drawing room earlier—she watched as her eyes widened in awe. The first thing she noticed was how bright the nervous energy crawling through her veins made the flush of her cheeks, complementing the teal of her widened eyes. The second was the dress.

It was absolutely enchanting .

The gown was made of a silk with an opalescent sheen that made it appear almost lilac instead of white. She had never had any particular desire to wear pure white on her wedding day, and the color certainly didn’t fit her in the traditional sense, anyway. The bodice was cut snugly to her voluptuous curves, its boning coming to a “V” just below her navel. Its neckline dipped tastefully into her bosom and off her shoulders, which had been dusted with a pearlescent powder courtesy of Ellin. The silk skirts billowed from the waist in flattering pleats, stiff enough that she hadn’t needed to add any crinolines beneath to keep its volume. Tiny pearls and crystals were scattered over the bodice and skirts, as well as the large bow that sat just above the bustle of the dress, underneath the swooping cut of the back. And the sleeves . Puffing dramatically at her biceps, they made her look as if she had fairy’s wings before tapering in at her elbows and hugging her forearms all the way down to her wrists like a second skin.

Under any other circumstances her breath would’ve been taken away by how stunning she looked. Her glossy pink lips were perfectly pouty. Her golden-brown curls elegantly swept up into a strategically messy pile atop her head. The little pearls that dangled from her ears had been her grandmother’s. Every detail was utterly perfect.

But at the moment it was the dread weighing on her shoulders that made her hardly able to breathe.

“ Hello? ” Ellin called again, impatience coloring her tone.

Genevieve finally yanked open the door, giving Ellin a disparaging glare, but when Ellin’s mouth dropped open, it was hard to remain too annoyed.

“ Wow ,” Ellin exclaimed, her eyes roaming admiringly over the gown as Genevieve shuffled out into the corridor. “Truly magnificent.”

“Holy shit,” Sevin exclaimed as he stood up straight from where he’d been lounging against the opposite wall. A wolfish grin spread across his face as he flicked his eyes over her. “Forget Rowin, what do you think about marrying me instead? Your chances of winning wouldn’t be as good, but I’m much more fun.”

“Shut up, Sevin,” Ellin said with a roll of her eyes from where she was now throwing a blanket over the mirror. “The only difference between marrying you or Rowin is you hide your tortured soul much better than he does.”

“And I’m prettier,” Sevin added cheerily. “Don’t forget that part.”

Genevieve gave a slight shrug. It was true.

“Lesson number one about joining this family? Don’t feed the egos,” Ellin admonished Genevieve.

But Sevin was pretty, where Rowin was more sharp and handsome. Not to mention darkly alluring…

Genevieve shook off that train of thought before it went in a direction she did not want to explore and cleared her throat. “Why are you covering the mirror now?”

“I think you deserve a minute to collect yourself without any prying eyes,” Ellin stated.

A brief flash of the scene in the powder room flickered through Genevieve’s mind, and she shuddered at the idea of being so closely watched by those she couldn’t see.

Ellin clapped her hands together now. “Alright. Go make sure Father and Rowin are ready in the garden, Sevin. I’m going to fix her a drink.”

Genevieve raised her brows at that last bit.

Ellin shrugged. “You look like you need it.”

Genevieve definitely wasn’t going to argue. Gathering up her skirts, she let Ellin lead her back into the drawing room as Sevin headed for the front door humming a wedding march.

“I still cannot believe Rowin wanted to have the wedding outside,” Ellin complained. “It’s freezing.”

“Probably because he wants to torture me,” Genevieve muttered.

“Rowin isn’t intentionally cruel,” Ellin defended with a shake of her head. “Now, if it were Grave—absolutely. Which is why he’s been explicitly banned from the wedding. But don’t worry too much about the snow. Father has Remi and Covin shoveling as much of it as they can from the garden.”

“Why bother?” Genevieve asked. “With any of this?”

“Knox,” Ellin answered with a look that said, Obviously . “As soon as you walk down that aisle, you need to remember that every little thing you do has the possibility of being watched. And if you put on a good enough show, you might even be rewarded for it.”

“Rewarded how?” Genevieve wondered.

“There are technically two prizes you can win in the Hunt. Winning the Hunt itself is a year of freedom, but there’s also a vote for the player the spectators like most. The winner gets the title of Favored, and Knox grants them a boon from his infamous treasure trove.”

Genevieve tilted her head. “What sort of boon?”

Ellin shrugged. “Magic trinkets. Jewels. Rare artifacts. You name it. Covin managed to win last year—it’s usually Sevin—and he chose some ridiculous fucking potion that allegedly would enlarge his?—”

“Is this shit still not over yet?” a gruff voice rang out around them.

Genevieve turned to see two men pushing their way inside the drawing room. The man who had spoken was the same one who had been watching her and Rowin from the top of the staircase earlier. Grave.

If Genevieve had to guess, she’d say Grave was a good two inches taller than Rowin, with a body built of pure, cut muscle. There were two onyx hoops pierced in his bottom lip, and his cropped hair was as white as Ellin’s, with the addition of a single streak of sable running through the right side. His gray eyes were only a shade or two darker than the pale gaze of the man in the portrait with the owl—who Genevieve now realized was standing right beside him.

“It’s technically her wedding day, Grave. Maybe try not to be an insufferable asshole until midnight at least?” Ellin suggested as she took two crystal glasses down from the cabinets behind the bar. Genevieve threw the girl a grateful look.

“Fuck off, Ellin. This is bullshit and you know it.” Grave addressed his sister, though his eyes remained locked onto Genevieve in a way that made her want to run and hide. “I can’t believe you’re helping him with any of this. If he manages to win with her , we’re all fucked.”

“And what did you want me to do?” Ellin shot back at him. “Blow his cover to Knox and get her killed?”

Genevieve stiffened as a flash of intrigue flickered through Grave’s eyes, but Ellin was already shaking her head.

“Knox has already sent out his invitations,” Ellin warned. “At this point, if you tell everyone that the wedding is fake, Knox is going to be furious. This is about more than a single mortal, Grave. And more than your desperation to beat Rowin. But do whatever you want, I suppose.”

Genevieve wasn’t sure she was as grateful for Ellin’s defense now, but there was no more argument from Grave, so Genevieve supposed whatever his sister had said worked well enough to placate his clear desire to remove her from this game. For now anyway.

“Now, whiskey or tequila?” Ellin offered Genevieve. “Grave? Wells?”

“Tequila,” Genevieve answered automatically as both Grave and Wells declined in preference of a bottle filled with something purple.

As Ellin searched through the glass decanters in the cupboard, Grave leaned over the counter to get a closer look at Genevieve.

He glanced in the direction of the mirror, as if to double-check that it was fully covered, and then grunted, “How exactly did you end up here in the first place?”

“I came to Enchantra to return some correspondence your father sent my mother,” she told him, her tone flat.

Wells cleared his throat. “Who is your mother?”

Genevieve took a deep breath and tilted her glass back to her lips, downing the burning liquid in a single gulp before answering, “Tessie Grimm.”

A look of shock fell onto all three of their faces. Then a low whistle came from the doorway.

“I haven’t heard that name in decades,” Sevin said as he strolled into the room. Then he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and announced, “Father said we’ll be escorting you out to the garden any second now.”

A rush of adrenaline went through Genevieve at his words, and she reached out to Ellin with her glass, silently asking for a refill. Ellin obliged with a smirk.

“And you said you aren’t Ophelia?” Wells confirmed as Genevieve took a slower sip of the liquor this time, relishing the warmth as it spread through her veins.

“No, I’m definitely not,” Genevieve said.

“How is Tessie?” Sevin asked, fishing something from the pocket of his waistcoat. A red sucker.

He said her mother’s name like he really knew her, not just of her—in the way children know of the adults who hang around with their parents just enough to remember their names. No, Genevieve was realizing now that they had all probably known Tessie Grimm themselves at some point.

“The better question is, why was Father writing her again?” Grave grunted.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly writing to her,” Genevieve revealed. “Since she died. A few months ago.”

Sevin openly gawped as Ellin hid her surprise behind a hand.

“ What? ”

Everyone snapped their heads toward the sound of Barrington’s voice. He looked dashing in a crisp, dark purple suit, with a matching waistcoat and paisley cravat. The only thing out of place was the look of devastation on his face.

Genevieve winced at the sound her glass made as she set it down on the countertop and turned to face the man fully. “I’m sorry. I wanted to mention it before, but everything happened so quickly and?—”

“When?” he demanded, his violet eyes shining with emotion as he rubbed a hand over his mouth in horror.

“Last fall. It was just before…” Genevieve shook her head as her words trailed off. “I can explain later. After the wedding. I think you and I need to have a conversation that doesn’t involve this damned game.”

Barrington squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but before she could apologize again, he was already snapping his attention back to his children. “Wells, Sevin, come with me. We’re going to get the doors and the gate open. Ellin, you can help Genevieve with her dress and escort her through the snow. Knox will be back any minute now.”

Ellin exchanged a glance with Sevin. “Trade?”

Sevin nodded at his sister before flicking his eyes over to Genevieve with a grim smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in capable hands.”

“Rowin hasn’t given a single fuck about our lives over the past fifteen years, and all of you are really going to attend this fucking hoax?” Grave threw at them.

“Get out,” Barrington barked. “This isn’t the time to rehash this argument. And I swear to Hell, Grave, you better not give away anything to Knox about this marriage.”

“Or what?” Grave taunted.

“Or there might be dire consequences for the entire family,” Barrington emphasized.

The two men stared at each other for a long minute, making Genevieve wonder what Barrington meant. Grave, to Genevieve’s surprise, did just as his father asked and left—albeit with a scowl on his face. He snatched the bottle of liquor from his sister’s hands as he went.

“Hey!” Ellin grumbled.

Grave swigged directly from the bottle in response as he and the others filed out one by one.

“Welcome to the fucking family,” Sevin told Genevieve cheerily. “Ready or not.”