Lilith's grip was all too tight, and the forest, when it rose to swallow them both, brought shadow cold as bone.
"You are not taking this seriously," chided Lilith, voice fragmented. Their slippers cracked cones and needles, the sleeping carpet of the wood. Mare, alone, would tread gently and with meditative care; but Lilith was wildfire: anger and righteousness, flint and steel. "We agreed the picnic was the ideal event to begin investigating—"
Perhaps it was the champagne, or the dignity Camden had given her with his focused, inscrutable, black-eyed attentions. But Mare could not contend with Lilith's intensity, or strangely placed determination.
Mare jerked her hand free, sinking her heels into the dirt. Lilith stumbled a step, whipping toward her, eyes round. "Investigating," said Mare sharply, quietly, aware the boys followed not too far behind. "As though we are qualified. As though we have something worth sniffing after."
"Someone has sabotaged you, Mare."
"Sabotage implies intent. No one knows I wrote those letters." Mare did not cower, though Lilith's face was tempered iron, her gaze like the heat of the sun.
"Camden does," rallied the girl without missing a beat. She crossed her arms, skin pale against the jade of her gown. "Do you think that because he may love you he would not deign to humiliate you? Even if it strengthened his position?"
"I don't," snapped Mare, and in the moment she believed it. "But do you know what else, Lilith? I don't believe that you're here to help me. Why would you? We're not friends. We never have been. You rescued me the night of the gala, and I thank you. But I owe you nothing, and you owe me less still."
"There she is. The true Mare Atwood. The one everyone talks about." Lilith's mouth crumpled, hurt, angry. Her grip on each arm was white-knuckled. "No wonder all of Star's Crossing thinks you're only hunting for the wealthiest match. You drive everyone away, fast as you can. Why, Mare? What are you scared of?"
"I am not scared." Mare's heart rang in her ears. She realized she'd never spoken to anyone outside of her sisters like this. She'd never voiced her rage. She'd never been bold. "I am practical. You have nothing to gain from helping me, so why bother, Lilith? What is it you stand to gain?""Gain! Lord, Mare! Do you hear yourself?" Lilith's cheeks darkened, and for the first time, she looked truly alive. Not cold, not inanimate; human. "You may hide yourself from everyone you meet, even me. But you cannot hide from you. You are far from practical. You are passionate, and romantic, and talented—"
"At what, pray tell?"
Mare and Lilith pivoted in synchrony, appraising Teddy and Camden as they ducked beneath the low-bowed branches of the pines and burs. It was Teddy who'd spoken, and there was no hint of duplicity in his voice or expression. He simply smiled, and looked up through the canopies, as though there might be something to find.
"Hiding," said Lilith, and Mare clenched her teeth, turning to glare as surreptitiously as she could at the girl. "We played all through school, and Mare was always the last to be discovered. She vanishes right into her surroundings. Isn't that right, Mare?" Lilith's smile was cold; venomous. Already the flush in her cheeks had disappeared, and she retained that cool, empty appearance of a doll.
"And you were always the one to find me, weren't you?" Mare answered with equal verve. "You never stop shoving your nose wherever it fits."
"Well, we must have a go, then," said Camden, predictably, sliding his thumbs through his belt loops and teetering on his heels as he took in the sweeping woods. "After all, what's a picnic without a game or two?"
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Star's Crossing
Historical Fiction{WATTY'S 2020 WINNER & EDITOR'S PICK.} Hopeless romantic and aspiring writer Mare Atwood has fallen madly in love with her childhood correspondent. There's only one catch-she doesn't know who he is. When the beaus of Star's Crossing return from boa...