The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 37: Trendsetter

OPHELIA

The garden party flew by in a blur of jewel tones and dulcet voices, as the nobility who'd ridiculed me not twenty-four hours ago suddenly vied — and quite desperately — for my favour. I couldn't see so much as a scrap of metallic cloth in sight; even their high heels were black, white, or gloriously bright.

Oh, the wonders of blackmail.

They weren't yet brave enough to wear their hair unbound, but it would come soon enough. I smiled into my wineglass as yet another boot licker sauntered up to the circle of vapid admirers I'd found myself at the heart of, only to falter when I realised something was different about her. She was too self-possessed, even though she wore my colours.

"Lady Evergreen," Mila leaned in to inform me, still looking resplendent in black. Apparently she always wore it to publicly mourn the family everybody else preferred to forget. "One of Reginald's wealthiest aristocrats. She owns most of the land south of here to the sea."

The woman in question quirked her apricot lips; she'd no doubt heard her whispered introduction. It was a fresh colour that offset the emerald velvet of her gown nicely.

"Lady van Arsdale," Lady Evergreen said, taking both of my hands. The velvet of her gloves tickled my palms as she leaned in to kiss my cheeks — or to mime the action, so as to spare me the sticky residue of her makeup. "How you've grown."

It was only then that I noticed the faint feathering of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She was significantly older than the other socialites in season; had she no children to take her place, or was she looking for a new husband?

"I am afraid I do not remember you," I said, searching her expression for a cue.

Lady Evergreen's hands slid up my arms, coming to rest on my shoulders. I fought the urge to stiffen as something scraped against my collarbone; a piece of folded paper, which she deftly tucked beneath my bra strap.

"I was a good friend of your father's. There will be plenty of time to reminisce, though," she said. "Another time, perhaps. When you have finished feeding the birds."

"I would be delighted," I said, amused by her barely veiled insult towards the other socialites. They were rather like preening birds, vying for a place in my menagerie. I practically had them eating out of the palm of my hand.

"Lady van Arsdale, I simply adore what you've done with your hair," another woman cried, pushing into the circle.

Lady Evergreen smirked, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. "I look forward to seeing you then. Oh, and do come alone."

It was then I knew the little piece of paper had a date and time scrawled onto it. "I'll see what I can do," I said, wondering if it was a warm welcome or a trap.

***

"That is definitely a trap," Nate huffed, swivelling around in his desk chair. "You can't seriously be thinking of going?"

I tried to turn around to beseech Fallon for some kind of reason, but the braid he was unpicking pulled tight against my scalp. Sighing, I melted back into the hard, warm planes of Fallon's chest, a delicious contrast to the pillowy softness of Nate's bed.

I was suddenly glad for the socialite's obsession with my hair. Fallon was only halfway through all the little plaits they made at the garden party, all while feeding me gossip on each other that only secured my grip on society's throat. I loved the feeling of his strong, sure hands winding through my hair, surprisingly deft and nimble despite their size. It was the perfect excuse to be close to him, after the distance that opened up since we arrived at Dornoch and he had to resume his role as bodyguard in full.

"What if she proves a valuable ally?" I asked, shrugging away Nate's concern.

"Ophelia, she wants to meet you in the middle of the hedge maze. At midnight. Alone."

"So secrecy is of the utmost importance. What of it?"

"It's the perfect place to murder you, for starters," Nate grumbled.

"Oh please. I could punt that woman back to Twatts if she tried to come at me."

"I know, sweetheart, but —"

"But what?" I had to fight to sound angry; his British accent came through when he was stressed and it was melting my backbone.

Nate ran a hand through his hair. "Fallon, please talk some sense into her."

Fallon cupped my neck, his fingertips grazing my new earring. The ruby stud felt cool where the facets pressed against my earlobe, and I felt a flash of warmth as I remembered how he'd held my hand throughout the piercing.

"He's right," the Lathurna prince rumbled. "Fair fights aren't how the nobility operate. Evergreen will probably show up with a small army, or try to trick you with poison, or some kind of enchanted object."

"I'd like to see her try," I muttered, pulling away from him to look at them both. "I can't just sit around and do nothing. You convinced me earlier that it's not safe for me to lead the search for Aurora, and I agree; Reginald is watching me too closely, and I'd probably just lead him right to her. I understand why I have to leave it to Addy, but I can't... I won't just..."

My throat constricted around the words. Nate's teal eyes softened as my paralysing grief crashed through the bond, each wave just as staggering as the last. Fallon's arms tightened around me, helping to brace me against the storm.

"If I can make this place safe, maybe she'll come out on her own," I managed to choke out eventually. "But to do that, I have to get your father out of the picture, Nate. Are you going to be okay with that?"

"It would make me the happiest man in the world," he said, and his smile was so warm and bright that it felt like we'd bottled summer in the room.

"Then you'll have to trust me on this," I said, looking down at the piece of paper again. Would it be the trap the boys believed it to be, or would it be something more; the gateway to that mysterious army people kept whispering about, the van Arsdale people who went into hiding so long ago?

There was only one way to find out.