No, that’s not true. My options are non-existent.
25
Jericho
Carlton Bishop is disheveled, to say the least, when he walks into the courtroom of The Tribunal building at a few minutes past our arranged meeting time. Actually, he looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. It puts a smile on my face seeing him like this.
Hildebrand makes a point of checking his watch. “Mr. Bishop,” he starts as he and his two counterparts glare down at the offender. “It is highly inappropriate to arrive at a Tribunal proceeding after we’ve been seated. Your disregard will be taken into consideration as we make our decision regarding this highly unusual matter.”
The courtroom has been modified from its usual setup. The three Councilors still sit on the highest-level looming over us in their wigs and robes. The gallery is empty but for Judge, who serves as advisor to me. Not that I need one. And the dais where the defendant would stand trial has been replaced by a single, rectangular table that must be several hundred years old. I wonder of the fates that were decided upon it as I glance at the many markings where deals were made, promises broken, betrayals avenged.
“Yes, well, it could not be helped,” Bishop dares to say as he adjusts his cloak and glances at me with an evil look in his eye. He forces a smile when he turns back to the councilors. “It is my dear sister’s wedding day and there was much to do.”
It irks me that he can pull it off. That he can sound so fucking casual when I know he’s anything but.
I shouldn’t care, though. I’ve won. My victory is in the words he just spoke.
The Councilors glance at one another and it’s Hildebrand who raises an eyebrow. “You will not refuse Mr. St. James’s request for your sister’s hand? Considering our conversations, I assumed, well, why don’t you explain it to me.”
“Yes, Councilors, my apologies. I admit, I had other plans for dear Isabelle, but it is true that Mr. Manson is quite advanced in age and, well, given her nature,” he pauses, looks to me. “She may require a more firm hand than the poor old man could wield.”
“Hm,” Hildebrand mutters. “It is highly unusual.”
I clear my throat and speak. “Unusual or not, as both parties agree, it only remains for The Tribunal to give my betrothed and I their blessing.”
Hildebrand studies me. He then drags his gaze to Carlton Bishop who is seething beside me. Do they sense the animosity coming off him?
“Carlton. This is what you want?”
“Yes, Councilor,” Bishop says through clenched teeth.
“You give your blessing?”
“I think he said he does,” I interject and earn a disapproving look.
“I give my blessing,” Bishop says.
I face him and he faces me. He tried to have his half-sister murdered and he now knows that I know. That I have proof. It’s why he’s here doing what he’s doing.
Blackmail. I smile. It never gets old.
An attendant carries down the decree that the Councilors sign. They set it in front of Bishop first. He signs. It’s then passed to me. I, too, sign and once the seal is placed, Isabelle’s future is secured. By the end of the day, she will be mine and I will be hers. For better or for worse. Until death do us part.
The Councilors leave first and once they’re gone, I turn to Carlton who is watching me, his mind no doubt calculating the next move.
“It will destroy her if it comes out,” he says.
“You mean it will destroy you.”
Hate flattens the blue of his eyes. “Also her.”
He’s right. I know that. Guilt will destroy her. Her brother died when she was the mark.
How much she and I have in common and she doesn’t have a clue.
I gather my things to go.
“I didn’t realize she was such a whore, my sister. And in a sacred place no less.”
My jaw tightens.
“You know what they say,” he leans closer to me. “There are eyes everywhere here. Every dark corner. I wonder who else watched—”
I grasp him by the throat and slam him back on the table. The Tribunal guard are on me in an instant, two sets of hands trying to pry me off.
“Did I hit a nerve?” Bishop chokes out.
I ease my grip. Shove the men off me and straighten. “You’re sick, you know that?”
His grin vanishes.
I gather my things and walk away.
“Tell my sister I said to take care. She’s quite accident prone.”
I narrow my gaze and it takes effort to keep walking. I wonder if he can see that effort in my gait.
“Just don’t leave any wells uncovered. You don’t want another Bishop girl falling in,” he adds as I let the door slam shut behind me.
26
Isabelle
I spend the whole of the next day locked in my room. I guess he wasn’t taking any chances I’d run. Where I’d go is anyone’s guess.
I tried to get in touch with Julia but have had no luck. My texts go unread, my voicemails unanswered. Although between the makeup artist, the hairdresser, and the seamstress, I didn’t have as much time alone as I hoped.
Now I’m dressed and watching as Leontine directs the woman who did my hair to raise it higher and pick up the tendrils left along my nape. When she’s satisfied, I stand and she looks me over, walking a circle around me. I’m wearing her wedding dress altered to fit me. She’s a few inches taller than me and apart from it having to be made shorter, it is a near perfect fit. It’s simple and pretty, a white, floor-length sheath that is held together by a single pearl for a button at the back of my neck. It’s not a tight fit for which I’m grateful. I didn’t want a repeat of the feather dress my brother made me wear to that masquerade.
“Do you know the words you must say?” she asks.
“You mean the wedding vows?” She doesn’t think I’ll be writing vows, does she?
“After the marking. Dominus et Deus. My lord and my god.”
“What are you talking about?”
There’s a knock on the door and she doesn’t get a chance to answer. Instead, Leontine tells whoever it is to enter which annoys me since it’s my room, but when Angelique rushes past her, in her own pretty, yellow princess dress, her hair done with ribbons that match and I see her smiling, happy face, I can’t help but smile myself. I’ve seen her once since the incident at the pool which feels like ages ago but it’s not.
“Oh, Belle!” she exclaims, stopping just short. “You look so pretty.”
I crouch down to hug her and take what I guess is my bouquet from her. “Thank you, Angelique. Wow, I love your dress!”
She spins. “Do you think I look like a princess?”
“I think you look prettier than any princess I’ve ever seen.” I wink.
Jericho’s brother, Ezekiel, clears his throat. He’s standing in the doorway in his formal black cloak with a tux underneath. I’m glad he’s not wearing that menacing hood. I’ve only seen him a handful of times for as many minutes and as I look at him now, I think how much like Jericho he looks. The difference is in his eyes. His are both silver. Like a wolf.