Page 18 of Goldrage (The Chrysophilist Trilogy #3)

He pauses to cut a piece of meat, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. “I imagine I’ll be visiting quite often now. Getting to know my cousin’s new family.” His eyes find mine, holding messages I can’t quite decipher. “After all, blood calls to blood.”

Adrian’s stillness has progressed from careful to corpse-like. Julian looks ready to vault across the table and pop Lorenzo’s head off. But it’s Lady Harrow’s reaction that chills me most; she’s assessing my cousin, like she’s already working out how to use this new information to her advantage.

“Oh, what a wonderful idea!” Bianca’s chirp shatters the tension. She claps her hands together again. “Please do visit, Mr. Mancini. This house could use more cheerful company.”

God, is she really this naive, or is it an act? No one could be this oblivious. It’s like watching a fly land right in the center of a spider’s web.

Julian’s voice comes out strangled. “I don’t think?—”

“It would be delightful.” Lady Harrow cuts him off smoothly, and something in her tone makes my stomach drop. Lorenzo’s presence isn’t a threat to her, it’s an opportunity. Something to use against me. Another way to ensure my cooperation.

This isn’t good. This is the opposite of good.

Cousin, why did you do this?

“Now then,” Lady Harrow returns to her earlier topic. “About your presentation to the Consortium?—”

“A brilliant idea!” Lorenzo interjects with an enthusiasm that makes me want to kick him under the table.

“Aurelia must be introduced to her new position in society. The Golden One carrying the Harrow heir? The Consortium will be beside themselves with excitement. I see where the true intelligence in this family is.”

Lady Harrow touches her chest and I swear she blushes. I can’t tell if it’s an act or if she really enjoys the compliment. “Oh, thank you. Please, come visit as much as you like. You can be the voice of reason for your cousin.”

“What do you say, cugina?” Lorenzo asks me .

Every instinct screams at me to refuse, to fight, to maintain some scrap of autonomy in this nightmare.

But something in Lorenzo’s eyes tells me to trust him.

I think he’s insane for coming here and revealing that he’s my family but…

he’s not just playing the fool. There’s a strategy, even if I can’t yet see it.

“I guess...” I say through a clenched jaw. “If it’s expected.”

Lady Harrow’s smile is pure predator satisfaction. “Wonderful. We’ll begin preparations tomorrow.”

The rest of dinner passes in a blur. By the time we’re dismissed, my nerves are stretched so thin I might unspool on the floor. When Lorenzo suggests a walk in the garden, I accept just to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the mansion. Escape all the damn beady eyes.

The sweet scent of roses tickles my nose as I inhale. We move along stone pathways through the elaborate gardens. Lorenzo guides us deep into the garden’s heart, where the sound of a large waterfall fountain might mask our words.

“I can’t believe you walked in there like you owned the place,” I hiss once I’m certain we’re as alone as we can be in this prison.

His grin is completely unrepentant. “Worked, didn’t it?

Actually, it was my wife-to-be’s idea.” The lovesick expression that crosses his face would be comical if our situation weren’t so dire.

“She’s a brilliant woman. She said the direct approach would catch them off guard and make my presence seem inevitable rather than threatening. ”

“You put a target on your back the size of Seattle! They already suspect you of helping us?—”

“Which is exactly why hiding would be suspicious.” He pulls out a cigarette but doesn’t light it, just rolls it between his fingers.

“Better to be the charming nuisance they can monitor than the hidden threat they hunt. Besides, with me here, we have options. I can speak with Adrian, coordinate with Eleanora, maybe even?—”

“Maybe even get yourself killed,” I bite out.

But I know it’s useless. He’s here now, committed to this insane plan.

I brush away a pesky tear that shows how worried I am for him.

Then I cross my arms in a huff. “Fine. But I’m not being displayed like a circus animal for the Consortium’s entertainment. ”

“Cugina.” The playfulness drains from his voice, leaving something far more serious.

“Refusing would raise more suspicion than agreeing. Lady Harrow is testing you. This presentation is as much about your compliance as it is about Consortium protocol. You’re carrying the heir, after all.

So it makes sense that you want to solidify your place in the Consortium so you can stay with the baby, yes?

” He holds the cigarette between his lips.

My frustration has reached a breaking point, so I snatch the cigarette from him and throw it on the grass. “Since when do you smoke? ”

He shrugs. “It’s part of the persona. I’m creating a certain… image.”

I scoff. “Well, I’m pregnant, remember? Don’t smoke around the baby.”

He picks up the cigarette off the grass while mumbling, “I wasn’t going to light it.” After dusting it off, he stuffs it into his jacket pocket and then glances up at the sky. “You are pregnant, cugina. And a mother would do anything to stay with her child.”

I frown but I know he’s right. Damnit. Another performance to give, another deception to maintain. Every lie takes a piece of my soul, but what choice do I have? Adrian’s life hangs in the balance. My fake pregnancy is our only shield.

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of chains I can’t see but definitely feel. “I understand.”

“Besides,” the mischief returns to his eyes, “maybe there’s an opportunity here to gain more allies in our fight. Eleanora has some ideas about that too. She’s quite the strategist.”

We continue walking in silence, the night wrapping around us like a cloak.

Above us, the estate looms against the stars, blocking most of them.

Somewhere in that maze of rooms, Adrian is chained and wounded.

Somewhere, Julian plots with the mother who’s destroyed them both.

And Valentine stands guard over all of it.

Whose side is he on now, though?

And how many more lies will I have to tell before this nightmare ends? How many more pieces of myself will I sacrifice on the altar of survival?

I think of my mother in these same gardens, young and terrified, carrying me while carrying the weight of Lucian’s obsession. Did she walk these same paths? Did she look up at these same stars and wonder if her daughter would ever see freedom?

The estate’s silhouette cuts into the sky like a wound that won’t heal. But wounds can become weapons, if you know how to use them. And I’m learning.

God help me, I’m learning.