Forbidden

Chapter 37

37

I sat on the window seat in my bedroom, looking out the window at the black clouds that rolled over the horizon.

It had been one full week since the celebration at the council house and this was by far the only thing that I did that gave me peace from a house full of wedding havoc. I’d seen more of Simone King than I preferred, strutting around our house like she owned it. I supposed she truly thought so, seeing that as soon as her son was Bound to me she would become family. But I knew her true secret.

I just couldn’t tell anyone because they wouldn’t believe me.

“Misha,”

I turned to look at my mother, standing in my doorway like she owned it. I didn’t answer her. I still didn’t want to talk to her; I’m not even sure if I forgave her. She seemed to bristle a little bit under my gaze, but she didn’t do anything to provoke me, which was good.

“Can you come downstairs? I want you to try on the dress that Simone brought over.” My mother asked.

Wordlessly, I got up and followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen where the two women were eating. Simone was piffling through our fridge looking for something to eat. As usual she was wearing one of her many designer business suits, and I wondered just where she thought she was going.

Over the past few days, Simone had spent more time in this house than at her own, and though I went wordless around my family, I was sure one of these days I’d crack and swear at her.

On the island was a pretty simple white dress; unlike humans, we weren’t extravagant about committing souls to one another. The dress was one of the least things to worry about in the planning of the celebration. It had to be more of a frock for the Spring and not very detailed. But the thing they had on the counter was not a Binding dress. No, that thing was just a short wedding dress.

It was fashioned to fit very tightly, I saw, and the bodice was embroidered with beads and pearls and other oddities. All in all, it wasn’t fit to be a proper dress.

“That’s not a Binding dress.” I told the two women as they ogled over the dress like it was the most important slip of fabric ever created.

“Nonsense,” Simone said, waving her hand and laughing that obnoxious giggle of hers. My mother and I gave her the same look. “The dress is perfect.”

“No it’s not.” I replied. “It’s not even practical. I have to kneel in the grass, don’t I? That thing will cut off my circulation.”

“Oh, stop being melodramatic Misha,” Simone laughed again; God she was annoying. “If you want we can let it out so it’ll fit better.”

I glared at her and crossed my arms. “I am not wearing that. End of story.”

Simone’s mouth open and closed, and she looked rather comical, but I couldn’t find the urge to laugh at such an obnoxious woman.

“Elena!” Simone cried, looking at my mom.

“She has a point Simone,” mom said in a clipped voice. I figured she couldn’t stand Simone as much as I did. “It’s not practical.”

Simone frowned at my mother and sat down in one of the chairs, refusing to look at either of us. What a child.

My mother folded up some linen in a basket and dropped them into my arms. “These are your sheets. You can go put them up and then come back down and help us plan.”

As if I had a choice, I thought to myself, taking the linen and heading up the stairs.

I put them away in my room and headed for the stairs, when I saw the door down the hall open. Curious, I tiptoed down the hall to the open door, which happened to be my parents’ bedroom and reached for the door knob, to pull it closed, when I saw Simone.