Page 9 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

On the morning of the wedding, I was awake before the pale light of dawn had crept through the heavy damask curtains that covered my windows.

I wasn’t dressed yet, and the thin robe I’d pulled around my shoulders wasn’t helping to keep out the chill in the room.

Something was off about my mother. She’d been unusually distant these past two weeks—she never spoke to me, and when she did acknowledge me, it was to judge me or say something sharp and critical.

I didn’t want to avoid her—I wanted to help her and support her in her new marriage… My father had died before I was born, and I’d never known her to have a boyfriend or… anyone. This should have been a happy time, and it hurt that she seemed so intent on pushing me away.

I flexed my bare feet against the cold hardwood floor and the shudder that swept up my spine snapped me back to the harsh reality: Today was her day. And she didn’t want me to interfere.

I swallowed hard and made my way to the adjoining bath and nearly stopped in my tracks as I caught sight of myself in the shrouded mirror. I pulled the fabric I’d tucked around it away and stared into the silvered surface.

The girl staring back at me was a stranger. My eyes were dull, shrouded by dark circles earned with countless nights spent crying into my pillow or staring at the ceiling while the roar of motorcycles echoed in my ears and vicious whispers kept me awake until dawn. I looked fragile and broken.

That was what they wanted.

With a bitter chuckle, I turned away from the mirror. “Get it together,” I muttered before I snapped on the shower.

As I undressed and stepped into the shower, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched.

As steam billowed in the room, the sensation of eyes roving over my naked body sent goosebumps prickling across my flesh and made me shudder uncontrollably.

I tried to push the eerie feeling to the back of my mind as hot water cascaded over me, but my heart raced with every droplet that struck my skin.

As I emerged from the steam-filled shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and huddled in it, hoping to hide my nakedness from whoever might be watching. I was too afraid to look at the mirror—what would I do if I saw that same shadow lucking there?

A knock echoed through my room, followed by the creak of my bedroom door as it opened.

So much for that sigil.

What a waste of time and magic.

“Miss Velez—”

It was one of the maids. I didn’t know her name, and no one seemed to care enough to tell me who they were. I peered through the crack in the bedroom door and saw that she carried a garment bag with a label from the boutique we had visited days ago .

“I’m here,” I said without opening the bathroom door. “Just— leave it on the bed.”

“The ceremony will start in an hour,” she said. She crossed the room without glancing at the bathroom door and laid the garment bag down on the bed. She unzipped it, pulled out the gray gown, and I was struck again by just how gorgeous it was.

I didn’t deserve to wear anything like that.

Traitors don’t deserve to wear anything but grave dirt.

The dark thought snaked through my mind and I gritted my teeth at the invasion.

“Stop it,” I muttered.

The maid glanced toward the bathroom and I shrank back from the door. “What’s that, Miss?”

“Nothing,” I called out. “Thank you for bringing the dress. I’ll be down shortly.”

There was a pause, and I wondered what the other woman was thinking. “Very good,” she replied. With a last look around the room, the maid walked toward the windows and tugged back the heavy curtains to let in the weak daylight that managed to creep through the clouds that shrouded the estate. Satisfied with her work, the maid left the room and I flinched as the hinges creaked and the door closed behind her.

I leaned against the tiled wall and sucked in a deep breath.

I’d been dreading this day.

Once my mother was married to Lucian, my fate was sealed.

I’d hoped, desperately and probably a little stupidly, that something would happen and that the engagement would be called off. I’d fantasized about being sent back to Messana Academy and escaping the estate.

But now? In an hour, I’d be a Romano.

You’ll never be a Romano , the voice in my mind hissed.

“I don’t want it,” I protested aloud.

Maybe I really was losing my mind .

No. No, I wasn’t.

The voices in my head—I recognized them now.

Titus. Bastian.

And the shadow in my mirror—Valen.

Watching me.

Always watching.

I couldn’t look in the mirror. I didn’t want to see him there.

I pulled a comb from the drawer and ran it through my hair with a shaking hand as I tried to organize my thoughts and bring my frantic heartbeat under control.

No one had bullied me at the Academy— But that didn’t mean I wasn’t innocent to it. I’d been called names and mocked for having weak magic... But I’d never experienced torment like this. I’d never feared for my life; or my sanity.

Titus would want to see me break under the pressure, Bastian relished in my discomfort.

But Valen... I didn’t know what he wanted. And that terrified me.

They all did.

I dried my hair as quickly as I could and then slapped some cream on my face and arms before I padded out into my room.

Seeing the dress laid out on the plush velvet comforter reminded me once again of the opulence I had been thrust into.

Every stitch in the gown’s luxurious fabric, every sparkling crystal and moonstone, was a reminder of my impending doom; another thread adding to the noose that was slowly tightening around my neck.

I slipped into the delicate lingerie that I’d chosen to wear with it and then pulled the gown over my head. I winced at its icy touch against my bare skin, but just like in the shop, it held onto me like an icy casing and made my body feel dead and numb. The minor alterations the boutique had done only made the gown fit more perfectly, and the delicate fabric moved with me as I pulled at the hidden zipper with trembling fingers.

The luxurious gown was so different from the simple clothes I usually wore. For years, I’d had nothing in my closet but my school uniform. These opulent silks and shimmering jewels painted an image of Romano prestige, a symbol of the life that awaited me in this shadowed, isolated estate—a life I hadn’t asked for.

A life I didn’t want.

I choked back a sob and walked over to the vanity and took hold of the damask fabric that I’d draped over the mirror. With a deep breath, I pulled it away and dropped it onto the floor. As I slid into the chair and looked at my reflection, I wondered if my presence at the wedding would even be noticed.

Would they miss me at all?

What if I just stayed up here and pretended to be sick?

What a childish idea.

I pulled out my small makeup bag and dumped its contents onto the vanity. I didn’t have much time.

A small package wrapped in silver paper sat on the edge of the vanity and I picked it up warily and inspected the sticker with the boutique’s logo on it. It appeared Madame Celestina’s boutique had sent something else with my gown, probably hoping to make a good impression on a new client.

I was sure that my mother would spend a good amount of Lucian’s money at that boutique before long.

The paper tore under my nervous fingers and a set of dark silver earrings set with moonstones tumbled out onto the vanity.

“Oh,” I murmured as I picked them up. The chandelier style was simple, and the dark finish on the metal complimented the gown perfectly.

I tipped the package upside down and three more items clattered out: hairpins set with dark clusters of crystals like the ones that cascaded over the shoulder and bodice of my gown.

“Madame Celestina knows what she’s doing,” I murmured.

My hair had dried into unruly curls that my mother hated. Her hair was bone straight, and she never knew what to do with my hair when I was younger—she always kept it cut short until I begged her to let me learn how to take care of it myself.

I pulled a packet of bobby pins out of a drawer and combed through my hair with my fingers before I started twisting and pinning to make a flattering chignon style that exposed my neck and would show off the earrings.

I admired my handiwork in the mirror and smiled just a little as I pushed the crustal-topped pins into my curls.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it would have to do.

I fitted the earrings into my ears and relished the weight of them for just a moment before I started on my makeup.

Nothing fancy, just enough to make you look less like a corpse who hadn’t slept through the night in two weeks.

How had it only been two weeks?

The room became filled with a melancholic silence as I sat alone, festooned in my unwanted finery, meticulously applying makeup to a face that looked increasingly unfamiliar with each passing day.

I hid the shadows under my eyes beneath a layer of concealer, but no amount of blush could erase the pallor of my skin—my body refused to accept this grotesque existence. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and then looked away, frightened that I would see the dark shadow looming behind me.

The shimmering gown clung to me like a second skin as I stood, and its crystal adornments sparkled in the dim light.

They’d be coming to fetch me soon enough, and I didn’t want to be here when they did.

Madame Celestine, in her infinite wisdom, had sent a pair of heels to match the gown, and I slipped into them and marveled for the millionth time how everything seemed to fit me perfectly even though no one had asked me what I preferred or what size I wore.

I didn’t have the capacity to be unnerved by anything that happened anymore.

It just… was.

I walked toward the door and glared at the faded sigil etched in the wood.

“Great work,” I said bitterly as I pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway.

As I made my way down the dimly lit hallway, I heard the distant murmurs of guests arriving for the ceremony and a decided buzz in the house as the ceremony approached. My chest tightened with anxiety and I tried to focus on the rich tapestries and the fresh flowers that had been brought into the house. Their heady scent filled the air, but their sweetness was cloying and thick, and my stomach churned at the heaviness of it.

As I came down the stairs, I tried to focus on the smoothness of the silk gown against my skin and the cool wood of the banister under my palm.

Above my head, the chandelier tinkled ominously, but I forced myself to keep my eyes focused ahead.

My heels clicked on the marble tiles as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I wasn’t sure where the wedding ceremony was supposed to be happening, but I hoped I could find someone who would tell me where to go and what to do.

“Going somewhere?” Titus’s dark voice slithered around me like a snake, cold and menacing. I nearly jumped out of my skin as he appeared from around a corner, and his tall frame cast a long shadow that seemed to swallow me whole.

“Titus,” I breathed as I took an involuntary step back, only for him to close the distance between us .

There was no way for me to escape him as I frantically searched for safety. My elbows struck the rough stone of an alcove set into the wall. A giant vase, overflowing with waxy white flowers and their heady scent, shielded us from the view of anyone who might pass by.

The petals brushed against my face, soft as feathers, as I caught my breath and tried to steady my racing heart.

“Look at you, all dressed up for mommy’s special day,” he sneered. His eyes raked over my body with a predatory gleam. “Such a pretty little bird.”

“Leave me alone,” I whispered, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear myself think.

“Or what?” he taunted, pushing me against the wall. His hand curled around my throat, not tight enough to choke, but just enough to remind me who held the power here.

“Titus,” I whispered, forcing my voice to remain steady. “What do you want from me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he drawled as his lips curled into a sinister smirk. “I want to see you squirm.”

“Please,” I begged, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. “Let me go.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” He pressed closer and the heat of his body sent a shock through me.

My desperation mounted as I searched for a way out of his hold, and my mind raced through every possible escape route.

But with each passing second, my options dwindled, and I was trapped and vulnerable beneath his malevolent stare.

“Is this what you want?” I choked out, the words barely audible above the pounding of my heart. “To hurt me? To make me feel weak?”

“Perhaps,” he mused, the cruel glint in his eyes never wavering. “But there’s more to it than that.”

“Please—” I whispered, my voice choked, while Titus’ fingers flexed around my throat. His thumb stroked against my jaw. Sensual. Controlling.

I licked my lips and his lips twisted.

“Did I frighten you, dear sister?” he asked. “I must say, it is quite amusing to see you tremble like a frightened animal.”

I grabbed hold of his thick wrist and fought the urge to whimper and look away from his mocking gaze.

He wanted to see me squirm, to watch me crumble before him—but how could I fight back?