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VEIL

I ’ve been staring at the bedroom ceiling for what feels like an eternity. My bedroom ceiling, in my house. I never imagined that, one day, I’d be able to say that.

Since I had nothing of my own, Mercy and Wolfgang set up an account for me with all the money I could ever dream of—and then added an even bigger lump sum on top.

“You are part of the ruling families now,” Wolfgang declared with a roguish grin. “You will never want for anything again.”

I smiled, nodded solemnly, and thanked them both, unable to admit that I did still want for something.

And that something is the reason I find myself staring at the ceiling in the early morning hours.

It all happened with such lightning speed. Mercy reminded me that I no longer needed to lift a finger for things to be done, and not even a week after my little spat with Gemini in Belladonna’s library, I was moved in.

I huff loudly, shoving the blankets off me. I step out of bed and reach for the fluffy robe I chose for myself, even with Belladonna’s and Mercy’s loud protests. They insisted that the blue fleece was an eyesore. I ignored them. I loved it.

Buying a brand-new wardrobe made me realize that maybe, at twenty-five years old, I still didn’t know who I was. It felt silly to have such a realization over something as insignificant as clothes, but … my whole life, I could never afford anything but whatever I could get my sticky hands on. Then Gemini came along and treated me like his doll. I’d never had the option to choose before.

Padding across my spacious bedroom, I make my way into the en suite. A claw-foot tub faces the large arched window, dawn barely waxing over the horizon. If I’m going to spend my time thinking, might as well do it in a bath, watching the sunrise.

When I first saw the bathroom’s layout, the bathtub facing the windows, I burst out crying. It reminded me so much of Gemini’s house. Luckily, no one witnessed my bizarre outburst as I cursed the pregnancy hormones and pretended it’d never happened in the first place.

As I wait for the tub to fill, I undress, letting the clothes fall to the floor at my feet. Catching the reflection of my naked body in the mirror, I stop in my tracks. Turning slowly to face it head-on, I begin to carefully note how my body has changed since I was last on my own.

I’ve gained some much-needed weight. My hips and thighs are fuller now—healthier. My arms and legs have grown toned due to the weeks I spent practicing my routine at Animus. My heart pinches at the thought of the circus; I’m unsure when I will ever return … or if I ever will.

I lift my hands up to my stomach, delicately placing my palms just under my belly button. I tilt my head to the side, lost in thought. I claim to be still deliberating my choice—keep it or terminate the pregnancy. But with every passing day, it’s becoming harder and harder not to feel fate’s damning influence.

But if I choose to keep it, does it also mean that I choose to keep Gemini?

“Veil?” Mercy says as she walks into the ruler’s drawing room. “Had we planned to meet? Jeremial didn’t notify me of?—”

“Can we talk?” I urge, wringing my hands as I chew on my bottom lip.

Mercy’s brows lift as she points a manicured finger at herself.

I nod, answering the unspoken question.

“Of course,” she says with a softness I’m not accustomed to from her.

She gestures for me to sit on the settee across from her. Smoothing the back of her shift dress, she sits down, crossing her ankles together and carefully clasping her hands over her knee.

The silence lingers, coaxing me to speak.

I clear my throat, shifting nervously in my seat. “Was there ever a time you didn’t trust Wolfgang?”

Mercy huffs out a wry puff of air, but I’m unsure why exactly until she says, “I never trusted Wolfgang.” Then, almost to herself, she says, “I forget how little you know about our shared history.”

“You grew up together, didn’t you?” I ask.

She nods. “But we hated each other.” Then she cocks her head, brows dipping. “Did Gemini tell you about the Lottery?”

“The Lottery?” I repeat slowly, perplexed.

Mercy sighs. “Unacceptable,” she mutters under her breath as she pinches her nose. Her green eyes lift back to mine. “I’ll make sure to have some books sent to your house. There’s so much for you to learn.”

My heart squeezes, and a vague embarrassment washes over me. I know Mercy didn’t intend it that way, but I can’t help chastising myself that I should know these things already. As if my lack of knowledge were somehow my fault. I wade through the misplaced shame before returning to why I came here in the first place.

“Then when? When did you begin to trust Wolfgang?”

I find no need to elaborate on why I’m asking such a probing question; I’m sure Mercy can easily surmise the deeper meaning.

She idly plays with her pearl necklace as she thinks. “I don’t think it was a conscious choice. It never is when dealing with matters of the heart — wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m not sure I do know. I’ve never been in love before.”

The word before slips past my lips, and I cringe at the implications.

“Before?” she repeats, and I break out into a cold sweat. “Do you love Gemini, Veil Vulturine?” she asks with the faintest of smiles, and she reminds me so much of him in that moment.

My cheeks burn up. “I — I prefer not to say,” I croak. “It’s irrelevant. If I don’t — if I …” Flustered, I stumble over my words.

Mercy finishes my sentence for me. “If you do not trust him.”

Tears blur my vision, and I curse under my breath, quickly trying to catch them with a curled finger under the eye. Mortified, I evade Mercy’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” I mumble in frustration. “I think this pregnancy is making me more teary than usual.”

She sits in silence, waiting for me to compose myself, one hand still clasped over her knee, back straight.

“I might not remember the very moment I began trusting my husband,” she says, and I sheepishly slide my eyes back to hers. “But I do know this.” She inches closer to the edge of her seat, leaning toward me, as if sharing a secret. “It takes vulnerability to trust. And believe me, Veil, I know firsthand how hard that is. Gemini could promise you the world; he could profess to never betray you ever again for as long as he lives, but if you don’t believe him, then …”

Mercy pauses, her gaze lifting to the ceiling before flitting back to me. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard.

“Trust and betrayal are two sides of the same coin, I fear. You must be willing to live with that harsh truth if you ever want to trust Gemini.”