Free Belmary House Book Two by Cassidy Cayman Page B

he could have done so wrong to be cursed in such a way. The Kostya she knew was gentle and kind, hardworking and honest.
    “My parents had two children before I was born, and that was deemed a large enough family. But my mother got pregnant with me quite by accident.” He smirked. “As these things happen.”
    Ashford grumbled, but she shot him a look to keep quiet, riveted by Kostya’s soft storytelling voice.
    “She was given a choice. Get rid of me before I was born or suffer the consequences.” He didn’t look up at Tilly’s gasp, or respond to her touch. “They ran from our village, went far away. It was days of hard travel, but of course there’s no distance that’s too far for my lot. They worried constantly that they’d be summoned back, but it seemed like they’d been forgotten.” He stopped to laugh humorlessly. “They weren’t. The day I was born, my brother and sister died. After that, my parents were forced to return to hear the rest of their fates. They were allowed to live with their grief, and because of their greed to have me live, I was cursed to do so always while my children would always die.”
    Tears rolled down Tilly’s cheeks as he finished. She made no effort to wipe them away, and couldn’t look at either Kostya or Ashford.
    “The leader of your coven did that?” she asked, sickened and sad to her bones.
    “My grandmother did that,” he said matter-of-factly.
    She put her face in her hands and sobbed, thinking of her own grandmother, who was a little batty, but the sweetest woman who ever lived. What kind of people did he come from? Ashford had told her once they didn’t consider themselves human and she thought with disgust that they weren’t. They were monsters.
    “So, you should go,” he finished. “There’s no point in letting them tear you to shreds, and it will upset me to have to watch it.”
    Ashford nodded, staring at his brother-in-law, clearly tormented. “Go up and pack, Matilda,” he said. “I’ll ready the horses.”
    He turned on his heel and left her standing alone with Kostya, who looked as if every last bit of hope had been wiped clean of his existence.
    “This isn’t right,” she murmured, shaking from the fear that kept growing with every passing minute. It took all she had to stand in the dining hall with him, hating herself for not being able to fight.
    He took her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Go,” he said. “You don’t have much time.”
    Unable to stand it anymore, she fled up the stairs, blinded by her tears. Keeping her lips clamped together to keep from screaming, she hurriedly packed their belongings.

Chapter 8

    Emma sat in her office, staring blankly at an order for candles. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to approve it, or if something was wrong with it. It seemed an awful lot of candles, but perhaps they were going for a dramatic look for the investors? She shook her head, causing the headache to rattle around before clutching onto a different part of her brain.
    Every time she visited her former life, the sickness took longer and longer to dissipate, so she forced herself to stay away. Even though she hadn’t been to Oxford in two days, it hadn’t gone away yet, and she feared it was with her to stay. The inside of her skull hurt so badly, she could picture every nook and cranny in there, as each area took turns lighting up with agony. Like all the candles, she thought dully.
    She had to return the candles, she finally remembered, because the investor’s ball was now in the past, and this was a double order. The only parts she recalled clearly were when she danced with Dexter.
    For some bizarre reason, whenever she was near enough to touch him, the foul headache subsided a little. Enough to let her think properly and string together a full sentence. She’d grown increasingly quiet the last few days. Whenever she was asked a question, she’d say she needed time to think things over, afraid she’d start babbling