Page 22 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

With my lips pressed into a thin line, I pushed away from the table and stood. My legs were a little unsteady, and I frowned at the glass of deep red wine that stood beside my untouched plate.

I waited until I felt a little steadier, and then walked out of the dining room and into the hallway. But as I stood there, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar surroundings, I realized I was still a stranger in this house.

An intruder.

Why had my mother made this decision? Had she truly loved Lucian?

If his attention was immediately drawn to me after her death, he couldn’t have loved her.

My stomach lurched and a sick feeling washed over me.

It was… impossible.

Perhaps he would change his mind and everything would be different.

He seemed more than slightly irritated at the interruption— thinly disguised fury—

Had he intended to discuss his plans with me?

A shudder rolled over my shoulders.

I didn’t want to think about it.

I wanted to go back to my room… but that wasn’t my room anymore—

I had a larger cage now.

An idea began to bud in my mind, reckless and dangerous, but it was the first powerful emotion I’d felt since arriving at Withermarsh.

I walked down the hallway, away from the foyer and the grand staircase that led back up to my new suite.

Lucian’s study was sure to be close by—he’d said that he had to deal with some ‘business,’ whatever that meant. I could only hope it meant he wouldn’t be in that room. Perhaps he had been called away from the estate entirely—

I hadn’t been to this part of the house before—but maybe I could find something to cling to—something that would give me some kind of clue as to what had happened to my mother.

Every trace of her had been wiped from the house.

It was as though she hadn’t even existed—and I possessed nothing but my memories of her, but those were blurry at best.

Without her power being passed into me, those memories would fade and every question I’d ever had, or wanted to ask her, would be lost.

Creaks and the sound of rain on the roof and windows echoed ominously around me as I roamed the mansion’s darkened hallways. The gloom stretched beyond every flickering candelabra and drew out grotesque shadows from the ornate furniture and looming portraits that adorned Withermarsh’s ancient walls.

At the end of a particularly dim corridor, I staggered as a pulse of dark magic pushed at me.

I paused and drew in a sharp breath .

Lucian’s study. It had to be.

I forced my legs to move and approached the door with caution—there was no sound in the hallway except the rain on the windows high above me. No murmur came from the room beyond the door.

The heavy oak door was richly polished, and my hand hovered over the brushed copper knob. Dark magic flexed against my palm and I bit down on my cheek as I laid my hand on the knob and closed my eyes at the sting of pain that seared through my arm.

I jerked my hand back and gripped my wrist as I stared at my palm.

Of course he would have sigils and protections over his study.

Idiot.

I let out a furious breath.

There had to be a way in.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus. My magic was weak—the pale spark of it pulsed just behind my thoughts—but I pulled it forward into my hands. The pain in my palm flared and then faded and I flexed my fingers and reached for the knob again.

“Come on,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

My hand closed around the knob and I winced as my magic fought to protect me and finally the pulse of darkness faded just enough that I could turn the knob and push the door open. I half-expected it to resist my touch, but it swung open with ease to reveal a place filled with both simplicity and opulence.

Darkened bookcases overflowing with scrolls and ancient tomes lined the walls, while a grand desk occupied much of the room. A faint red light emitted from a small crystalline orb suspended above the desk and it bathed the space in a strange blood-tinged glow that unsettled me even more.

My throat was tight as I stepped closer to the desk, scanning the surface for anything that looked out of place. Although Lucian was a meticulous man, some items remained on his desk. Official scrolls and documents, closed with a large black wax seal, were piled in a small pyramid on one edge of the desk; a map of Messana lay spread out in the center, illuminated by the orb’s glowing light.

Defeated, I was about to leave when my gaze fell on a drawer partially open on the side of his grand desk. I edged closer, pulled it open entirely, and brushed my fingertips over the tops of the papers.

I closed my eyes and reached out with my magic in a vain hope that it would help me. My fingers closed over a piece of paper and I forced my eyes open and stared down at the paper my magic selected.

I blinked in surprise as I recognized Messana Academy’s crest on the thick paper.

“What?”

I pulled it free from the drawer and realized that it was a letter from the headmaster—but why would Lucian receive one of these? His sons were too old to be students there. And the date was recent—it was from the month before my mother had taken me away from the academy and brought me to Withermarsh.

I scanned the text and let out a quick gasp as I read my name on the page.

Desperation clawed at my throat as I bent over the drawer and pulled more Messana letterhead from the collection of papers. The first was an annual report—the ones that detailed everything from academic achievements to disciplinary actions—and then some more letters that detailed snippets of meetings with my instructors. There was even a note from my dorm supervisor about a problem I’d had with one of the other girls who had been bullying me in the dormitories.

My hand shook as I read and re-read the words on the pages.

Why— Why did he have these ?

And the dates— there were so many pages. Years of surveillance.

My mother never explained my sudden acceptance into the academy, and I never asked—I was simply grateful to be there. But I was always aware that it was an elite institution, and that there were some who didn’t believe that I belonged there.

I shrugged off the swift memory of my very first bully. I'd been terrified of her.

And then, one day, she just… disappeared from the halls of the academy and no one spoke her name ever again.

Could Lucian have been responsible for all of it?

Was he the reason for my acceptance into the academy?

He’s been watching you since you were a child…

The thought was a dark whisper in the back of my mind.

My knees buckled just enough to make me grip the edge of the desk.

I felt strangely exposed, like a puppet whose strings were suddenly visible.

Questions swarmed in my head like a hive of angry bees, demanding answers I didn’t possess.

The silence that filled the room seemed to mock me, offering no comfort or solace in the face of my distress.

The realization that Lucian had been involved in my life since I was a young teenager filled me with horror—my mother had allowed it.

What had she given up in exchange for this favor? And what had she gained from her sacrifice?

With trembling hands, I carefully replaced the letters, ensuring that every crease and fold was exactly as it had been when I found them. The last thing I needed was for Lucian to discover my trespass into his inner sanctum.

I pushed the drawer back to where it had been, slightly open, but not enough to rouse suspicion .

As I prepared to leave the study, I hesitated at the door, my hand resting on the cold metal handle. With every breath, fear gnawed at my insides and threatened to consume me whole.

How could I pretend everything was normal when my entire world had been upended?

He wanted to speak with me again… about the wedding, no doubt.

What if I refused to marry him? What if I rebelled?

What if—

What if he takes your life as easily as he took your mother’s?

I hadn’t wanted to consider that option.

But it lingered in my mind.

Inevitable.

I released a shaky sigh as I exited the room and pulled the heavy oak door closed behind me. My palm burned with the magic from the door handle and I shook my hand to try to make it fade faster.

My heart pounded in my chest and echoed loudly in my ears, and the eerie silence of Withermarsh swallowed my footsteps as I slowly made my way down the dim hallways that wound toward the grand staircase and the suite that once belonged to my mother.

The scent of roses lingered in the air as I ascended the staircase toward my suite. It was fragrant and cloying, yet it sent a shudder through me. It was so hauntingly familiar—but I couldn’t be sure if it was the scent of flowers from the wedding, or from my mother’s funeral that still lingered in the air.

I paused at the top of the stairs and stared blankly at the ornate door that led to what was now my suite.

With a shaky breath, I pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Rain tapped against the windows, and I walked across the room to pull the heavy velvet drapes across the darkened view .

After dimming the room, I lit a few candles before sinking onto the plush chair by the vanity.

I unbuckled my satin shoes and tossed them aside before I let out a small sigh and wiggled my toes in relief.

Thunder rolled overhead, rendering the silence obsolete as the storm outside became stronger.

Hurriedly, I stood and unlaced my gown. It slid down my body and I let it pool around my feet before I stepped out of it and slipped on a robe that had been draped over a nearby chair. I tied it securely around my waist and resumed my seat at the vanity.

My eye makeup was too dark and my face was too pale.

But Lucian had said I looked beautiful.

My stomach churned as I thought about the way he’d looked at me, and then the letters that were hidden in his desk drawer.

He’d been watching me for years.

Checking on my progress.

Watching out for me.

Asking for reports on my behaviour and what boys I’d been interested in— I stiffened as I remembered that the one and only time I’d ever been interested in a boy… Deacon. He seemed to like me in return, but one day he had shouted at me and accused me of things that I had never done…and then he never spoke to me again.

I avoided him in the hallways and kept my eyes averted whenever he was close by.

I didn’t know what happened, or what I’d done… but maybe I hadn’t done anything—

My stomach lurched, and I stumbled out of the chair and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Just as I reached the toilet, my stomach lurched, and I collapsed onto the cold tiles, vomiting whatever little food I had managed to eat for dinner .

I gasped for air and tears streamed down my face as I clung to the porcelain bowl as I retched violently and my body convulsed again as I emptied the contents of my stomach. My chest ached with the effort, and I curled tighter around the bowl, wishing I could purge more than just the physical remnants of the evening.

After a while, the nausea faded and cold reality set in.

I pulled myself up with trembling hands and leaned against the cool marble sink counter. I rinsed out my mouth and washed my face with water that was as cold as the fear that filled every ounce of me.

Everything—my life at the academy, Deacon’s sudden change in behaviour—all made a horrifying sense now.

It was Lucian. It was all Lucian.

With that realization came an ice-cold sweat that prickled along my spine like a warning.

What if he was the one who had been watching me through the shadows in my mirrors?

Lucian’s sons—Titus, Valen, Bastian—had they been part of this, too? Were they Lucian’s eyes and ears whenever he wasn’t around?

Questions spun in my head, a dizzying whirl of bitter confusion—questions I knew I would never have answered.

I staggered back toward my room and the plush carpet sank beneath my bare feet. My robe felt impossibly heavy, too warm, and the silk clung to my clammy skin like a second layer.

What sort of man monitored an innocent girl?

No, not a man. A monster.

What sort of father involved his sons in such a perverse scheme?

I slumped onto the bed and the downy soft comforter crumpled beneath me as the walls closed in and the room shrank. The mere hint of it all was enough to make my stomach lurch again, but I was empty now, drained and hollow.

Lucian had orchestrated everything, but why?

A raw laugh tore out of me, mirthless and bitter, and it echoed off the high ceiling and seemed to linger in the room long after I fell silent.

I would never marry him.

Never.

He could force me into a dress, he could manipulate my circumstances, he could terrorize me with his power but he couldn’t control me. Not completely. Not if I had anything to say about it.

He had taken everything from me—my mother, my home—and he intended to take even more.

But I wouldn’t let him. No matter what.