Is it possible she deserves more of my mercy and less of my mistrust?
“I used to think it would be so cool to live back then.” I sigh, deciding to drop my misgivings, at least for a while. “In the movies, they make it look so swoonworthy.”
“Sometimes it really is,” Elodie says, settling back in her seat, her face overtaken by a soft and dreamy expression. “I’ve waltzed with handsome princes, ridden in gilded horse-drawn carriages…”
“And bedded King Henry the Eighth,” I tease, still not sure I believe it.
“That too.” She nods and takes a careful sip of her drink.
“Still, while it is interesting to visit, I think I’m more suited to a world of flushing toilets and blow dryers.” I laugh.
“Hear, hear!” Elodie raises her glass, and I do the same. But when she looks at me, the laughter fades, and her expression turns somber. “You want to know the truth?”
She speaks as though everything that came before was a lie—and of course, there’s a good chance it was. And that this will be, too.
“From the moment I arrived here at Gray Wolf, I never dreamed of living anywhere else. It’s only recently that I’ve come to understand that not everyone feels the same way.”
Her gaze lands on mine, and I get the feeling she wants something from me. Probably a display of gratitude for changing my life.
When I don’t respond, she inhales deeply and says, “Are you still angry with me?” She holds her breath puffed in her cheeks. But I delay for so long, she’s forced to repeat it. “Are you angry with me for bringing you here?”
If I answer too quickly, she’ll never believe me. Elodie, like Arthur, is a hard person to fool.
“No,” I finally say. “Not—” I start to say,Not for that. But at the last second, I change it to, “Not anymore.” And when I meet her gaze, I hope what she sees is the truth.
Because I’m no longer angry with her for bringing me to Gray Wolf.
I’m angry because she tried to sabotage my mask so that I’d never return.
Despite my momentary lapse of pity toward her, I know she’s responsible, and someday I’ll prove it.
She reaches for the shaker, about to refill our empty glasses, when my slab begins to buzz, and my hand shoots for my bag, sure it’s a message from Braxton.
But when I notice Elodie’s slab buzzing as well, I figure it must be something else, something not nearly as exciting.
“The new recruit is here.” Elodie stands, smooths a hand down the front of her dress. “Arthur wants everyone to meet downstairs.”
But all I can think is:Braxton is back!