Page 7 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

Darkness clung to the corners of my new home and their shadows now consumed my life.

I could feel the hostility radiating from my stepbrothers in every scowl and every word that was muttered in my direction was meant to hurt.

Their father was going to marry my mother, and they hated me for it.

It was obvious.

It had only been a few weeks since my arrival at Withermarsh—but my new brothers didn’t want me there, and they wanted me to know it.

None of this was my fault—I had to cling to that fact.

But I also didn’t have a choice.

I wanted to be as far away from Withermarsh as possible; but as much as I wished for it, I couldn’t leave.

Where would I go? No money, no one to call or visit—

My mother had seen to that when she’d brought me here.

No phone.

No visits.

No letters.

Nothing.

I wondered if my friends even cared that I was gone.

If someone had told them where I had been taken, they’d probably be jealous.

The wedding was only a few days away, and my mother had barely spoken to me.

I hadn’t even seen her dress.

Who was she?

Had she always been like this and I’d never seen it?

She seemed like a stranger.

Or—worse than any other thought that strayed into my mind—maybe I’d never really known her at all.

Thankfully, after that disastrous dinner, I didn’t have to attend any other ‘family’ events, and my meals were brought to my room as usual. It was easier not to leave. The house creeped me out, and I didn’t feel safe—not with those three gargoyles stalking around the corridors.

My mirrors were all covered with blankets and fabric to keep the shadows I’d seen in their silvered depths at bay.

I was sure that they were spying on me.

Watching my every move.

Watching me shower.

Sleep.

…everything.

How was I supposed to escape that?

Titus and his brothers had mocked me for my weak attempt at a protection spell, and I didn’t even have any of my books from my spellcasting classes to practice with. Whatever I tried to cast on the door of my room had always dissipated in a matter of minutes.

My magic was too weak.

Pathetic .

The disdain in Titus’ voice was etched into my memories.

I wanted to prove them wrong.

I wanted to show them I could protect myself.

But every attempt I made was laughable.

Frustrated with myself, I rolled off the bed. With determined steps, I walked across the room, sat down in front of the door and glared at it.

I’d seen my friends make the ‘no entry’ sigils on their doors hundreds of times, but I’d never been able to make it work for myself.

How else was I supposed to protect myself in a place like this?

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and raised my hand.

Willing my magic to rise and come forward was always a struggle. I didn’t want to envy my classmates who had inherited their power already—I couldn’t be jealous of the fact that someone in their family had died—but it was difficult not to feel a little resentful.

My fingertips tingled just a little and I opened one eye just to make sure.

There—in the air around my fingers—a soft lilac glow.

“Good enough,” I muttered and closed my eye again.

Focus.

I traced the sigil in the air and hoped that I’d gotten the shape right.

“By light and shade, by moon and sun, I draw this shield; my will be done. From harm and ill, I now declare protection bound in fire and air.”

Speaking the words aloud always made me feel ridiculous, but thinking about them really hard wasn’t going to get the job done. I repeated the incantation and did my best to visualize a protective energy forming as I traced the sigil and imagined it solidifying with each line, burning itself into the wood of the door .

“Keep them out,” I whispered, and my magic pulsed in my fingers.

That was the encouragement I needed.

“Keep them out.” Louder this time.

My fingertips burned and my palm throbbed with unfamiliar pain.

“Keep them out!”

I hadn’t meant to shout, and my words echoed in the room, startling me into opening my eyes.

I stared at the door.

Did it work?

A moment passed, and then my heart soared with triumph. There, etched against the dark wood of the door, was the sigil—a radiant lilac shield that quivered slightly in the dim light.

It was rough, not flawless like those in the magic textbooks, but it was mine and it held and glowed with a warm light that pulsed with each beat of my heart.

A rush of joy filled me as I realized what this meant—I’d done it!

For the first time in weeks, it was almost as though I had some control over my life. Even if it was only a small step to protect myself against those who wished to harm me, it was still a step.

A brief knock at the door startled me from my triumph.

The sound bounced off the protective sigil and an ethereal hum softened it before it reached my ears. I looked toward the knock, not moving from where I sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Miss Avril, the car is waiting for you.” The housekeeper’s voice echoed in my ears and I pressed my palms down onto the floor.

I swallowed hard. “The— the car?”

She can’t get in, she can’t get in.

The doorknob turned and fear gripped my throat. How—

As the door swung inward, I scrambled back out of the way .

Irritation and confusion were evident on the housekeeper’s face as she entered the room.

“What— is everything alright?” she asked.

I pushed myself to my feet and tried to ignore the weakness in my legs and the itch of sweat on my scalp.

“Yeah,” I choked out. “I was just— What’s going on?”

“Ms. Velez has ordered the car to take you into the city,” she replied. Her pale eyes swept over me, but while I expected judgment, her expression was neutral.

How had she swept through my spell like that? It should have kept everyone out—even spiders. What had I done wrong?

“Into the city?” I knew I was being difficult, but I was confused. “Why—”

“The wedding is in a few days—you’ll need something to wear.”

“Oh.”

Shit.

My mother hadn’t spoken to me at all since that terrible dinner. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to wear or what she expected me to do for the wedding.

I nodded dumbly, still trying to reconcile my mother’s aloof attitude with her sudden concern for my appearance at the wedding. I turned a questioning gaze at the housekeeper, but her narrowed eyes reflected no semblance of understanding.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The housekeeper’s gaze remained impassive, and for a moment I thought she would reach out to touch me, but she stepped out of the doorway to allow me to walk past her.

“Everything has been arranged,” she said.

“I’ll just— get my coat.” I managed weakly. The housekeeper waited as I turned and hurried back into the room and opened one of the wardrobes. The only jacket I’d brought with me was my school uniform blazer, but that had been taken away, and I reached into the closet desperately and grabbed whatever was closest. The elegant wool coat had expert tailoring, just like everything I had been given, and I shrugged into it without looking at the mirror attached to the back of the door.

I knew I’d see the shadow in it—spying on me. Watching me.

I gritted my teeth as the coat settled over my shoulders like a warm embrace. But there was nothing comforting about the snugness of the fit or the fineness of the wool.

“Come along,” the housekeeper said. “The driver is waiting.”

“I— I don’t have any money,” I said haltingly.

The housekeeper’s smile was stiff. “You won’t need it.”

Of course not.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked past her and into the hallway. My fear threatened to choke me as I walked down the long corridor. My footfalls echoed off the high ceilings and reminded me with every step just how isolated I was in this gloom-ridden mansion.

The housekeeper’s pace was quick, and as we walked through the foyer and stepped outside, the chill air of Withermarsh snaked its way around me, and I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and pulled the coat tighter around my torso.

My head buzzed with thoughts of escape, but I quickly pushed them aside; I’d be an idiot to try running away now. I’d be caught in an instant and then they would watch me even more closely than they were now.

The housekeeper waited on the threshold as the driver opened the rear door for me and I slid into the backseat. I shivered as the scent of leather enveloped me, and then the door closed and muffled every other sound.

As the car pulled around the gravel courtyard, I couldn’t help glancing at the garage where the Romano brothers kept their motorcycles. The sight of the sleek black bikes parked at the far side of the drive sent a shiver down my spine and caused me to twist my attention back to the road that stretched ahead of us.

The imposing wrought-iron gates opened, and I held my breath as the sleek SUV passed through.

A subtle reverberation rushed through my body as the SUV pulled away from Withermarsh, and I wondered if there was a protection spell or a binding that had been laid over the borders of the estate—I’d have to consider that if I was going to escape.

I’d been given permission to leave today—but what would happen if I tried to leave without permission?

Withermarsh’s darkness loomed in my mind and I dared to glance back at the fog-wreathed estate before it disappeared behind the stone wall that enclosed the grounds.

Maybe I didn’t want to think about that.

The journey into Messana was long and quiet. As we drove along roads lined with ancient trees, I stared at the skeletal branches that reached out like contorted hands in the dull daylight as my mind whirled with plans and possibilities. If I was to escape this new life before the wedding took place… this was the best opportunity I’d ever get.

As buildings began to sprout around us and people passed by on sidewalks, it seemed like another world. I didn’t know Messana as well as I should have. Being at the Academy wasn’t the same as being in the city—I’d barely left the campus, and every time I had left I’d been with a chaperoned group on a planned outing to the opera, the ballet, or another school function.

Titus’ mockery wormed its way through my mind again.

Sheltered little bird.

How was I supposed to survive on my own?

I didn’t have any money—I didn’t even know where I was.

Even if I was able to run away, where would I go? How would I get there ?

My fingers gripped the cold leather seat as the car finally came to a halt. We were parked in front of an upscale boutique that glittered with the kaleidoscope of city lights. The driver’s side door opened, and for a moment, anxiety filled me like poison.

The shop windows displayed mannequins draped in luxurious silks and intricate laces—a boutique for evening gowns. I slid out of the car reluctantly and looked up at the sign that read Madam Celestina’s in glistening golden letters.

I followed the driver through the door of the boutique, and bit back a gasp as a sea of fabrics swirled before me, each more exquisite than the last. Above the hum of the traffic, the roar of a motorcycle filled my ears, and I hurried into the boutique.

The shop assistant’s wide eyes took us in as her smile flickered but held steady.

“Ah! Miss Velez,” she exclaimed with a forced enthusiasm. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, if you’ll follow me.”

The driver’s eyes followed me as I walked past him, but he didn’t move from his spot. I wondered if he was supposed to be a bodyguard as well as a driver. He was big enough.

I followed the other woman into a private dressing area, where I was two racks of beautiful gowns, each one more lavish than the next.

“Your mother has chosen these gowns for you to try on.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, unsure of how to respond to such reverence.

She pulled three dresses from the closest rack—all designed in various shades of deep green or pale gray. She hung them in one of the large dressing rooms.

“Take your time,” she said and tugged the curtains closed as I entered the space.

The gowns were undeniably beautiful.

Intricate lace patterns and delicate beadwork adorned each one. Silk and satin slid against my bare skin and hugged my curves in a sensuous grip.

Each gown seemed more revealing than the last, cut low enough that I felt exposed and on display for the world to see.

“Would you like to try some more?” the saleswoman asked from outside the curtain and I wondered, in a moment of panic, if she could hear my desperate thoughts.

“My— My mother picked these out?” I asked tentatively.

“She did,” the woman replied in a tone that seemed far too bright and cheerful. A hand snaked through the heavy velvet curtains and I pushed the hangers into her outstretched hand as I tried to twist away to hide my naked torso. “Did any of these strike your fancy?”

“I— I’m not sure,” I stammered.

“Which one did you like best?”

I struggled to recall which one had caught my eye. I shivered in the chill of the dressing room and crossed my arms over my breasts in an effort to stay warm. “Uh— the gray— the simpler one? I guess? I’m not very good at this—”

“Your mother has exquisite taste, Miss Velez. She’s chosen some of the best pieces in the collection. That gown, in particular, is one of the most sophisticated ones we have,” the woman said, her voice once again too bright.

Of course, my mother had chosen the best.

As out of place as I felt amid all the dark luxury at Withermarsh, my mother seemed to soak it in and reveled in all of it.

“Can I— Can I try another one like that gray one?” I asked hesitantly. I peeked through the curtain gap as the woman perused the rack with pursed lips. She selected three more and turned back toward the dressing room. Her smile was quick and practiced as she held them out for me.

“Of course. ”

The gowns she had chosen for me were just as stunning as the first ones, but I noticed with a sliver of gratitude that they were less ostentatious than the first set. A one-shouldered dove gray gown with delicate beadwork and a small train, a deep emerald green piece that draped like water when I touched it, and an ivory gown that was simple in its elegance, but I eyed the plunging neckline with wariness. It was my mother’s wedding day—why had she chosen an ivory gown for me to wear?

I thought there was an unwritten rule against that sort of thing…

“Thank you,” I murmured as I retreated into the dressing room. As the curtains swished closed, I hung up the gowns and stared at them with a critical eye. They were truly works of art, but all I could think about was how out of place I felt in them.

Gowns like these were nothing I would have ever chosen for myself.

And I’d never dared to go into a boutique like this… especially one that had no price tags.

I selected the ivory dress first and slipped it on with trembling hands. It was heavier than the others and fell to my feet with an almost audible sigh. The fabric clung to my body, each curve accentuated by the intricate draping of the fabric. The low neckline plunged almost down to my navel, and my eyes widened as I looked at my reflection.

“Ohhh, I don’t think so,” I whispered.

I pulled it over my head quickly and selected the pale gray gown.

The silk was smooth against my fingertips and I bit down on my cheek as I pulled it over my head and felt the delicate fabric stretch and settle against my body. Tinted crystals and moonstones cascaded down over my breasts from the embellished single shoulder strap, and they shimmered in the low light of the dressing room. As I stepped in front of the mirror, I realized it wasn’t too revealing; it was daring in its fit, but tastefully elegant.

“Do you need help?” came the assistant’s voice again—too close, too cheerful—and I jumped a little.

“No thank you, I can manage,” I blurted out.

Seeing myself in the mirror wearing that gown was strange; like I was looking at a parallel version of myself. Even my eyes looked strange in the dim lighting. For a moment, under the gaze of my reflection in the floor-length mirror, amidst all this luxury and grandeur, I felt impossibly small and incredibly conspicuous.

“Miss Velez?”

“No!” The word bounced off the walls of the tiny room. “I’m fine!”

I swallowed hard, tugging at the hem of the dress until it fell perfectly around my feet. I didn’t want to step out into the boutique. I didn’t want those judgemental eyes on me—but I had no choice.

“Miss Velez?” The assistant’s voice, sweet like candy floss, held a note of insincere concern that made my skin crawl.

“I... I’m coming.” I steeled myself against the inevitable embarrassment and pushed aside the heavy curtain so that I could step out under the soft lighting of the private dressing area.

The assistant held a glass of champagne out to me, and I took it hesitantly as I walked toward the mirrors.

My reflection stared back at me from several mirrors placed strategically around the room. But the woman who stared back at me wasn’t the Avril I knew. That Avril wouldn’t be standing here in this glittering dress; she would have been lost in her books or trying desperately to make her spells work—any spell.

But that Avril was gone.

“The perfect gown for a wedding,” the woman purred as she came up behind me .

“A wedding,” I murmured, glancing over at her. She was watching me in the mirror, a broad smile on her lips.

“Not just any wedding, my dear. A Romano wedding.” Her brows arched as she met my gaze in the reflection. I swallowed, turning away to stare at the champagne in my hand. The bubbles gently slid up the sides of the glass and rose to pop softly on the surface.

I nodded and forced a tight smile onto my face, but I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t more of a grimace. I turned away from her gaze and looked down at the sparkling stones spread across the bodice of the gown like scattered stardust.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another way for them to control me.

“Will this be the one?” the woman asked.

Her lipsticked smile was smooth and seductive.

“I— Yeah, I think so,” I choked out. The words tasted artificial on my tongue, but the other woman didn’t seem to notice.

Her smile broadened and the scent of her perfume seemed to thicken in my nostrils. “Excellent choice, Miss Velez. You have quite an eye, just like your mother.” Each word oozed false flattery. “This is a gown worthy of a Romano wedding.”

The meaningless words clattered around my ears as she moved around me to adjust the dress, and her fingers brushed against my skin and left trails of goosebumps behind.

“We’ll have some seams taken in a little—you’re such a little bird,” the woman admonished. “Once we’ve made some adjustments…” She bent down out of sight and pinched the waistline before adjusting the small train that fell down my back and brushed against the floor. “It’s going to really show off those lovely curves.”

Her cheerful chatter continued to reverberate in the room, bouncing off mirror surfaces and echoing back at me sharply. Here I was, being wrapped up for a show— I shivered with revulsion as I imagined my new step brothers seeing me in this dress.

Finally, she stepped aside and glanced at me in the mirror once more.

“It’s perfect,” she said with an air of finality.

Was it? Was it perfect?

A Romano wedding… It sounded pompous and impossibly pretentious. And it wasn’t mine.

“Go and get changed now,” the woman said with a wave of her hand, “I’ll handle everything.”

I nodded stiffly, not trusting myself to speak anymore than needed. I watched her bustle away to presumably arrange for tailoring or whatever else she had in mind, and I moved back toward the dressing room.

With my eyes cast down and my thoughts racing, I pushed aside the curtain once more.

In the dimly lit room, I paused before removing the gown.

None of this seemed real.

Stripped down to my lingerie, I found my hands trembling as I carefully set the gown back on its hanger. I couldn’t afford to be careless now when every move I made was being watched and analyzed.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I saw something move—a shadow—I bit back a gasp as I looked at the mirror.

“No—”

Had the shadows in my mirrors at Withermarsh followed me here?

I closed my eyes tight and my hands clenched at my sides.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Please—