A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1) Page 2

  A spark of hope ignited in my hollow chest. “We don’t need his money.” I cupped his smooth jaw and brought his face back to mine. “My dowry would be enough to support us.” We weren’t the wealthiest family in Graystones, but we were still fairly well off.

  With his mouth pressed into a disapproving line, Robert’s hands fell away. “Your dowry is a pittance compared to Aveen’s.”

  In eight words, he’d stolen the stars from my sky and squashed them beneath his fine black boots. Aveen would inherit our father’s estate—or, rather, her husband would. I would inherit nothing. “So that’s it. You’re just going to marry my sister for an inheritance? I slept with you, Robert.” I spat his name like the curse it was and shoved against his chest. I had been nervous and scared and had tried backing out. But then he’d told me he loved me, and I’d given myself to him because I’d loved him too.

  “Do you have no honor? Did you ever love me at all?” If only I were strong enough to throw him over the bloody railing.

  His eyes fell closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Keelynn—”

  “Save your breath, you worthless cad. I never want to speak to you again.” His lies chased me to the open doors. The ballroom was too loud. Too bright. Too crowded.

  Aveen stood by the dessert table, laughing at whatever her friend Lady Marissa was saying.

  The darkness waiting in the hallway called to me, an escape tugging me forward. Unquenched desire swirled in my belly, dancing with the sloshing champagne.

  I skirted around a group of elderly men discussing a recent merrow sighting over glasses of port and cut straight through a line of young maidens staring longingly at the full dance floor.

  A figure waited in the moonlight drifting through the wide bay window outside my father’s study.

  “I thought you’d changed your mind,” Edward said with a knowing smile, drawing a finger along the golden drape’s tassels. Two flutes of champagne waited on the windowsill behind him.

  “Not tonight,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his.

  He tasted like champagne and cherries. When I tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away, gasping for breath.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His throaty whisper tickled my cheek as he dotted kisses along my jaw.

  “Liar.” Aveen was the beautiful one, with her round face, pert nose, and big blue eyes full of hope and optimism. My face was too thin, my cheekbones too pronounced. And Robert had once said my gray eyes were as cutting as a steel blade.

  Edward smiled against my neck.

  I imagined they were Robert’s lips. Robert’s hands sliding up and down my arms. My back. My hips.

  Robert. This was Robert.

  Only it didn’t feel like him.

  Robert was strong and insistent and passionate. Edward was too slow. Too careful. Too hesitant.

  What was I doing? I didn’t want this. Didn’t want him.

  His lips grazed my ear when I twisted my head away. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go back,” I said, pushing against his toned chest. The hands resting on my shoulders felt too heavy. I tried shrugging him off, but he didn’t let go.

  “One minute.” He tugged on my sleeve, exposing my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

  “I said give me a damned minute.” Edward cursed when I pushed him again. “Stop hitting me. My cufflink—”

  I drove my elbow into his stomach, sending him stumbling from the enclave. The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the darkness. A cold draft tickled against my exposed breast.

  Edward swore and yanked harder, struggling to free his cufflink from the lace at the top of my gown. “I’m so sorry,” he blurted, tugging harder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so—”

  “Ambassador?” My father’s voice rang through the hall, accompanied by heavy footfalls. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you regarding—Keelynn?”

  “Father . . . ” Hot, shameful tears streamed down my cheeks. Clutching my torn dress to cover myself, my eyes darted to Edward’s pale face. “I . . . We . . . ”

  My father’s dark mustache twitched, and recognition sparked in his blue eyes. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “It’s not what it looks like, sir.” Edward held up his wrist, flashing the offending gold cufflink. “This caught on her dress and—”

  My father lunged, grabbing Edward by the collar. I had to do something. Had to stop him.

  “You dare come into my home and accost my daughter?” A vein in his forehead bulged and his face darkened to a sickly shade of purple.

  Do something, dammit!

  My eyes darted to where Edward lifted his trembling hands in surrender.

  “It was an accident. I swear,” he said.

  An accident. Yes. This was all an accident. A silly accident soon to be forgotten. One day we would laugh about it.

  “What good is the word of a scheming bastard who lured an innocent young woman into the shadows without a chaperone?” my father snarled, lips curled back from his teeth.

  “Father, please. This is all a misunderstanding.”

  Edward’s panicked blue gaze landed on me. Something akin to relief washed over his features. “It’s true sir,” he said, nodding emphatically. “A simple misunderstanding.”

  My father let him go with a shove. “I misunderstand nothing.”

  The ambassador stumbled against the far wall, breaths sawing in and out, clutching his chest.

  Stepping forward, I grabbed my father’s coat sleeve. Surely I could make him see reason. “My dress ripped and . . . ” And what? Think, Keelynn. Think. “And the ambassador was offering me his coat until I could change. That’s all. Father, please. You must believe me. I’m telling the truth.”

  “The truth?” He pressed his hands to his temples and swore. “You think that matters in these situations?” When he dropped his hands, he refused to look at me, settling instead on glaring at Edward. “When people hear about this, she will be ruined. No one will want her.”

  Why did it matter? If I couldn’t marry Robert, I didn’t want to marry anyone.

  Edward straightened his shoulders and tugged on the ends of his waistcoat, his worry shifting to resolve. “I understand how this unfortunate situation could affect Keelynn’s prospects for a husband. I am happy to make this right.”

  Make it right?

  Prospects for a husband?

  Surely, he wasn’t suggesting the two of us get married.

  I didn’t even know the man. And after this debacle, I was fairly certain I didn’t like him either.

  “That’s madness,” I cried, pain blossoming in my chest like what was left of my withered heart was breaking. “No one saw us. No one has to know.”

  My father loosened my fingers and turned his back to me.

  He had done the same thing the day I’d begged him to reconsider Aveen’s betrothal. Dismissing me as though I was nothing. As though I didn’t matter.

  The two of them disappeared into the study to decide a fate in which I had no say, leaving me standing in the hollow hallway, clutching my dress to my chest.

  There had to be some way to get out of this. Some way to escape.

  Aveen.

  She would know what to do.

  I flew through the hall to the curved staircase. My hand slid down the smooth mahogany banister before catching at the very end where the newel post had been reattached. It had been my idea to slide down the staircase on a sled, but Aveen had taken the fall for it. All the terrible ideas from our youth had been mine.

  The footman at the door startled when he saw me. “Milady—”

  “I need a coat. It’s an emergency.”

  He dashed into the cloakroom and returned with my favorite gray cloak. I thanked him, wrapped the soft wool around my shoulders, and fastened the clasp at my neck, concealing my disheveled state.

  The torches lining our long, gravel
drive lit the way as I raced to the rear of our home. My slippers slid in the damp grass as I crossed to the gardens. Wide stone stairs climbed to the balcony where music drifted into the night. How would I get her attention without letting people see me?

  A peal of laughter echoed from deep within garden.

  A laugh I would recognize anywhere.

  Aveen was outside. It was the first bit of good luck I’d had all night.

  My footsteps crunched on the stone path until there was another giggle followed by a deep male chuckle.

  I froze.

  Aveen wasn’t alone.

  Was she out here with Robert? Oh god. I wouldn’t survive seeing them together.

  I tiptoed forward to peer around a fragrant boxwood hedge. Aveen’s sky-blue ballgown glittered in the moonlight. A cloaked figure sat across from her, toying with a lock of her golden curls.

  He wasn’t Robert.

  The mysterious figure was slimmer, not as broad across the shoulders. I strained to hear what the man was saying.

  Aveen straightened her spine and shook her head. “But Rían—”

  The man pressed a finger to her lips and murmured something too low to hear.

  Aveen nodded. The man, Rían, dropped his hand. She leaned forward, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.

  My sister had a lover and had never told me.

  We shared all of our secrets.

  Or, at least, I shared mine.

  A strange gurgling sound broke the silence.

  The color drained from Aveen’s face. She slumped forward and would have fallen off the bench if the man hadn’t caught her in his arms.

  An invisible boulder slammed against my chest.

  My withered heart spasmed.

  I opened my mouth to cry out but no sound emerged.

  My legs had turned to stone and all I could do was watch the man lay her on the bench. Caress her cheek. And vanish.

  “Aveen!” My stone legs finally lurched forward. Sharp, stinging pain shot through me when they met the gravel.

  Vacant blue eyes stared back. Unblinking. Glassy. Dull.

  “No . . . no . . . no.”

  No warmth.

  No pulse.

  No breathing.

  No no no!

  “Please . . . wake up . . .”

  A banshee’s piercing wail sliced the night.

  She was only twenty.

  She was too young.

  “Aveen!”

  Unmoving.

  Unblinking.

  Unchanged.

  Until her white lips darkened to black.

  There was only one creature on this cursed island who could have done this. A monster who preyed on innocent maidens and killed them with his poisoned lips.

  The Gancanagh had murdered my sister.

  2

  Funerals weren’t held for the family.

  They were for the spectators whose lives hadn’t been broken apart by death’s cold, unforgiving hand. Whose worlds hadn’t been shattered. Useless ceremonies to make those who were still whole feel less guilty about being around those of us with missing pieces. Condolences and handshakes and nods and tears did nothing for the ones experiencing a loss so deep that the wound would never heal.

  As I stared through my black veil toward the casket at the bottom of the deep hole, my mind drifted to a different casket. A different grave.

  If I turned my head, I would see the high cross atop my sister’s headstone.

  She had died four months ago.

  Sixteen weeks.

  One hundred and twelve days.

  I had tried to emerge from the depths of despair. I changed my diet, took long walks, took short walks, spent time with friends, spent time alone, and even begged the village apothecary for something, anything to make me feel like living again.

  None of it worked. I couldn’t get past losing her.

  And now these witnesses were back to watch me bury my husband.

  Edward and I had been hastily married two days after Aveen’s funeral.

  I had gotten to wear my sister’s ivory dress after all.

  Once, I had dreamed of a big wedding overflowing with hydrangeas and music and fanfare. A loveless marriage hadn’t deserved any of those things.

  An unforgiving wind ripped at my veil, swirling my black skirts about my ankles. The other graveside mourners had their heads bowed. A stray magpie landed on a statue of an angel with her face upturned to the dark sky.

  My father settled a heavy hand on my shoulder. He was the only family I had left, just as I was his.

  And I couldn’t find it in my shriveled heart to care.

  I shrugged him off and stepped closer to my coachman. Padraig kneaded his black wool cap with gnarled hands and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His poor bowed legs must’ve been aching from standing for so long.

  When the priest finally concluded the service, he led the procession of mourners from the graveyard.

  Padraig’s calluses scraped my hands when he gave them a tender squeeze. “I’ll wait fer ye in the carriage, milady. Take as long as ye need.” He hobbled toward the line of black carriages stretching along the lane.

  My father pulled me in for a hug. His shirt smelled like tobacco and vanilla. A combination I had once loved and now loathed. “I’m so sorry, Keelynn. So very, very sorry.”

  My arms remained pinned to my sides. I only accepted the token of affection because railing and screaming would have been unbecoming of a lady of my station.

  But I refused to say it was all right.

  Because it wasn’t.

  He had forced me to marry against my will.

  He had taken away my choice.

  And for what? So that I could be miserable and alone only a few months later? What had been the point of any of this?

  My father moved on to speak to some folks by the falling wooden fence surrounding the town graveyard. None of them looked the least bit sorry about Edward’s passing.

  Lord Trench stopped, his four sons behind him. All blond. All handsome. But the most handsome of them waited at the end of the line, his eyes pinned on me.

  Robert.

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  All lies. They weren’t sorry. They weren’t affected. They didn’t care.

  “Lady Keelynn, I am so dreadfully sorry for what has happened,” Robert said, his voice laced with quiet sadness.

  I clenched my jaw and glared at the man I’d once loved.

  Love. What a bloody curse.

  Robert’s hair fluttered in the wind. Hazel eyes searched mine. He lifted a hand to touch my cheek, thought better of it, and offered a tight nod instead. “If you ever need to escape, you know where I am.”

  If only there was a way to stop the fluttering in my stomach. “If I ever need to escape, I certainly won’t be looking for you.”

  Robert’s pained wince brought the first spark of joy I’d felt in four months.

  More mourners crying false tears came and went.

  They hadn’t known Edward. And if they had, they wouldn’t be crying over him. He’d been standoffish and irritable, nothing like the charming gentleman I’d kissed at the ball. But who could blame him after being forced to marry me?

  There was only one person in the lot who seemed genuinely upset.

  Whose tears I believed.

  They belonged to my maid.

  I wasn’t sure when Sylvia’s affair with my husband had started. It hadn’t been long after the wedding. The day I’d witnessed them together in our parlor, I hadn’t felt even a hint of anger.

  I’d felt relieved.

  It wasn’t as if the sham had been a real marriage. The only times he’d touched me were while we exchanged vows, hand in hand, and then to press a kiss to my cheek at the end of the ceremony. He was constantly traveling to Vellana, so I only saw him a handfu
l of days in those four months. Any time he came home, he insisted on keeping to his own chambers. And I hadn’t complained.

  I escaped the smell of fresh earth and made my way between weathered headstones to my sister’s final resting place.

  Grass had already claimed the patch of ground beneath the shadow of her headstone.

  A name.

  A date.

  Beloved daughter and sister.

  Words reminding the world that Aveen had never gotten to be a wife. A mother.

  She could have been anything.

  And now she was nothing.

  Guilt tinged every inhale. Every exhale. Every beat of my unworthy heart.

  I had done everything wrong, and Aveen had done everything right.

  So why was I still here?

  A sniffling sound drew me from my misery.

  Sylvia and another woman had returned to Edward’s grave. My maid clutched a balled-up handkerchief against her eyes. Her shoulders hunched as she sobbed. The other woman wrapped her in a fierce hug. “You’re sure the witch can’t bring him back?” she asked Sylvia.

  Witch?

  I’d heard tales of a witch living in the forests beyond our town but had dismissed them as hearsay. People were paranoid and loved nothing more than a bit of juicy gossip. But could the stories be true?

  “N-no.” Sylvia shook her head. “The bitch said I didn’t have anything she wanted. He’s gone, Liddy. He’s really gone.”

  He’s gone.

  She obviously meant Edward.

  Bring him back from where though? The dead? That was impossible . . . Wasn’t it?

  Everyone knew the creatures living on this island possessed magic, but I had never heard of magic raising anyone from the dead.

  Aveen’s headstone scratched my fingertips. If there was a witch, could she resurrect my sister instead?

  “Excuse me?” I waved toward Sylvia and her friend. Both of them looked at me with wide, startled eyes. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” I said, not feeling the least bit repentant for eavesdropping. They had been discussing my husband, after all. “Did you say you’d been to see a witch?”

  Sylvia dabbed at the corners of her eyes again as she nodded. “Y-yes, milady.”