She pictured the list she’d copied out at the War Office, a handful of names and titles, addresses flung across the countryside. Miller, Merrick, Harrison... Alcox! There had also been an Alcox in the company. Tessie, Kitty. Alcox, Miller. The lists hung side by side in the air in front of her mind’s eye. Her handwriting, cramped with grief, the duke’s dark scrawl. They were the same list, seen from different angles.
The duke had hired Tessie at some point not so long ago. Herfather must have been in his company, and he was obviously taking care of Sergeant Miller’s widow, too. Janet and Laurel—they must be surviving family members of other compatriots he’d lost. Probably experiencing generous strokes of good fortune by the duke’s machinations, their financial concerns taken care of, no longer alone in the world.
She could place herself on that list as well.
Another good deed, or five, for the pile. At this rate, he’d achieve sainthood before too long. The thought brought a smile to her lips, Dex in martyr’s robes, a halo crowning his dark head. She’d solved one of the enigmas of this man she was married to. She’d find the perfect time to tell him she’d solved one of his mysteries. He couldn’t hide his kind deeds from her. She’d won a minor battle in the war, he would have to acknowledge it. And maybe, seeing how futile it was to remain so opaque in the face of her determination, open up about other things.
She was at this point rather lost in the maze, she realized. She’d reached a dead end somewhere close-ish to the center, was surrounded by unyielding green. She took a seat on a low stone bench facing the farthest wall and listened to a thrush trill a thrilling song from somewhere nearby. Fitting, she mused, to be contemplating Dex’s closed-off nature in the setting of a maze. She let the wall of green hedge fill her vision, quieting her mind.
Suddenly, fantastically, a rabbit leapt from seemingly thin air onto the grass in front of her. Where had it come from? One minute, greenery. The next, a gray, flop-eared little ball of fluff, regarding her calmly over its twitching nose. She stayed still. It stayed where it was for a long minute, then turned and hopped back toward the wall. Then disappeared. Into the wall.Aroundthe wall. A false dead end! She could just make out the cleverly concealed threshold if she squinted her eyes.
She leapt to her feet and followed, squeezing through the narrow gap that allowed entrance into a brief grassy corridor—then out into the heart of the maze.
It was a lovely spot. Quiet, still, forgotten by time and humanity. Overgrown rosebushes ran riot in every direction, mixing with sweet-smelling banks of lavender, thyme, and rosemary. A multi-tiered fountain with sweet cherubim frolicking at its sides held court over several stone lovers’ benches.
She walked on the cobblestones to its edge and ran her hands over the mossy marble. The barest trickle of water flowed from spouts set at intervals, and its various drains were choked with weeds. There was a statue at the center, an impossibly beautiful and stately goddess, barely discernible under a patina of moss, with stars carved in her hair and long flowing robes that sank into the stagnant water. A greening copper plaque lay at her feet.
For my Celestia
The stars be always thine
The date beneath was just before Dex had left for the war. Ana started, feeling as if she’d been shoved by invisible hands. All the air was gone from her lungs. She felt it in her bones, the deep importance of this forgotten place. This neglected shrine to someone named Celestia. Who was she? More importantly, who had she been to Dex? The woman he had loved, obviously. If so, why had they never married if he’d seen fit to gift her with such a grand gesture of his devotion?
The statue’s blank eyes seemed to lock onto Ana’s. She backed away, skirts catching on the wild herb tendrils that reached out to her. The only corner of the duke’s estate not militantly groomed and managed. The wildness terrified her. What could it mean? She hurried back around the false wall and began to laboriously find her way out of the maze, hindered by a swarm of questions nipping at her like gnats.
Solve one mystery, uncover nine more. It was a hydra-headed conundrum. Open a door only to discover a hall full of closed ones. It took her twice as long to find her way out of the maze as it had to reach its center, but she persisted, grimly forging forward, doubling back as necessary. She emerged finally, breathless and panting.
She would persevere. And win this war. She wouldn’t stop until she’d opened every last lock and thrown wide all the doors in her way.I will solve this, she thought. The inaccessible dukewouldopen up to her. Failure was not an option.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You do have need of my Magic,” spake the Faery Queen. She drew from her breast a glittering amethyst pendant. “The dragon must offer his help willingly; to that end I have no power. But take you thou this amulet, and keep it on your person. You will then have everything you need to vanquish evil and realize your heart’s desires! Just remember: trust in thine own Self, and let the magic follow...”
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
Ana stared up at the pink silk canopy above her bed, attempting to catch her breath. He’d done it again. Made her come apart into a million pieces, made her scream his name and clutch the bedsheets while she cried out in ecstasy.
He held such power over her. She wasn’t making much progress on her mission to win this tug-of-war between them. He kept himself separate from her, played by his own rules.
During the day he was occupied with restoring order to the estate in the absence of his estate manager. At night he came to her bed. And then he left her. Replete with pleasure, but their marriage unconsummated. His heart still a locked room mystery.
She could feel him readying to leave even now, the tense of his muscles, the air growing colder.
“Dex.” She rolled onto her side and nestled into him. “You touch me and I feel as though you’re trying to communicate something that you won’t allow your lips to say. You won’t allow yourself to open to me and tell me what you want. You will only control, and I like that. I like to surrender, I also want to know you, not only your body, but you. What makes you, you?”
“Very well.” He sat up. “Let’s talk. You introduce a subject and I shall converse upon it for an acceptable length of time. And then we shall resume our bedsport.”
“That’s not how this works. You make the rules for our meeting of bodies. I shall make the rules for our conversations. And they are very, very simple. No lies. No half-truths. Full honesty in all things. And... a striving for honesty, for something deeper than a perfunctory conversation about the weather, or horses, or houses or household staff. I want you to talk to me about what’s in your mind. What you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking you are lovely by firelight. That I want to be the flame flickering and casting shadows across you. I want to lick you with fire, and make you burn. I’m thinking that this desire I feel for you is rare and something to be treasured. I’m thinking that I’m lucky. To be in this bed with you. To be allowed to touch you.”
“You seduce me with words. And you think I’ll forget about our bargain.”
“Our bargain was open to interpretation.”
“Then I won’t allow myself to surrender to seduction. A true feeling, one true feeling or one thought about life, and your place in it, for one kiss.”
“You don’t want to know my true thoughts. War left me witha darkness, a wound that will never heal, and you’re always so cheerful. Learning my thoughts might infect you, like a wound not properly washed. You might become morose by association.”