“Doesn’t matter.” He sounded sincere, like nothing really mattered to him, and as he spoke, he slipped his tie around Fiona’s neck. Fiona braced herself to be strangled, but instead, Gordon’s face twisted in disgust. “How dare you look at me…with the same eyes as my mother…”
Fiona did not know how Justine Poiret looked, and she saw no similarity between herself and the man hovering over her. Perhaps her eye color and Poiret’s was the same.
“Your voices sound nothing alike, but whenever I see you… Why…”
The contempt and rage in Gordon’s voice turned Fiona’s blood to ice. Giles kept pounding on the door, but it did not budge. There was a knife at her throat and a tie wrapped around her neck.
Mom, Fiona thought helplessly. Even at a time like this, she thought of her mother. Her mother, whose voice she could not remember, smiling faintly at her.
“Your mother’s voice,” she said. “You still remember it?” This wasn’t some strategic move; she just envied Gordon for remembering something about his mother that she couldn’t remember of hers.
Gordon’s brows knit briefly together. He seemed startled by her words, but they did not improve his mood. “She was a fool. If only she’d abandoned me sooner, she wouldn’t have had such a horrible life.”
“She abandoned you?”
He ignored her. “She had a pretty face, if nothing else. If she’d gotten rid of me, there would have been plenty of men in line to marry her.”
“But…she turned them down?”
“And thanks to her, we almost starved to death many times. Painting was her only talent, but she couldn’t make a living from it. She couldn’t hold down a job, or a house.”
“She abandoned her paintings…but she wouldn’t abandon you.”
“Hah! Clever.”
If Fiona closed her eyes, she could still see, vividly, the brilliant flowers Poiret had painted. For an artist of her genius to give up painting… Fiona couldn’t imagine the torment in her soul.
No, her soul wasn’t tormented by the decision at all, she realized. Fiona’s own mother had wished for children at the cost of her own life, and she was certain that Justine Poiret would sooner have died than give up her son.
Gordon knew it too. But something was keeping him stuck. The flowers Fiona saw in that sketchbook of his spoke of love and hate…and rising resentment.
“Your mother… All she wanted was to live her life with you.”
“Shut up!” Gordon growled. “And get up, unless you want me to strangle you harder.”
He yanked the tie tighter, and Fiona wobbled to her bare feet. Gordon dragged her to the windowsill like a dog on a leash, and just as he yanked open the waist-high window, Fiona heard the key click in the doorknob. Then, she felt Gordon grabbing her chin, and her feet began to lift from the floor.
Her air supply was cut off. She had no idea what was happening. Her consciousness threatened to slip away…until Giles’s booming voice brought her back to the present.
“It’s over, Gordon!”
“No, it’s over for you.”
Fiona’s toes were on the floor, just barely, but Gordon had flung the upper half of her body backward out the window. Amid the flurry of wild, windswept hair, she saw the blade of his knife.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Gordon said. “Now, would you rather I push her out the window or slit her throat?”
Gordon’s arm pushed Fiona further still, bringing her feet completely off the ground. The windowsill dug painfully into her back. Her throat hurt, she couldn’t breathe, and her vision was blacking out in spots.
“Stop! Fiona!”
“Fetch me a carriage,” Gordon said. “I won’t tolerate the slightest resistance.”
Unstable and in pain, Fiona clawed desperately at Gordon’s hands around her neck.
I’m…falling? Fiona glanced down and saw that the lake was right beneath her. Moonlight reflected off the water’s peaceful surface, disturbed only by quiet ripples.
Fiona didn’t know where she was, because Caroline and Gordon had both chosen to take her through the more private parts of the palace. She seemed now to be in a guest room on the second floor, on the opposite wing of the palace from the great hall. She could see the dazzling light of the chandelier through the other wing’s window glass, and the wind carried faint strains of music to her ears.
“Ngh… Mm…” She could not breathe. Giles and Gordon were arguing, but the ringing in her ears drowned them out. Her vision was fading…but before it left her entirely, she saw somebody standing behind Giles, holding a gun.
The…crown prince?
There was a dull bang, and Gordon’s grip on Fiona’s neck loosened. She almost fell out the window, but her hands shot out and gripped the curtains tight. There was an ominous sound of ripping fabric, but Fiona managed to hold herself up outside the window just long enough for Giles to run over and catch her.
“Fiona!” Giles cried, pulling her to safety. They fell to the floor together. Over Giles’s shoulder, she saw Gordon leaning against the wall beneath the windowsill, crumpling himself up into a ball.
I’m saved? Fiona thought, dazed. Giles held her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe, and she felt his arms and shoulders shaking. In the moments that followed, Fiona was finally able to take a deep breath in and out.
“Lord…Giles…” she managed, then admonished herself. No, Fiona, you’re supposed to call him Lord Gil.
“Fiona, I’m so sorry,” Giles whispered in her ear.
His words struck a dreadful ache into her heart. An inferno surged in there, and the swell of emotion sent tears spilling from her eyes. Suddenly, she was crying so hard it was difficult to speak. “It’s…okay…”
When Giles heard her hoarse, strangled voice, he hastily loosened his grip on her. She wiped her eyes, trying to show him that she was all right—until Gordon snatched the knife off the floor. His shoulders were drenched in blood, but he came out swinging.
“No!” Fiona shrieked. With the last of her strength, she pushed Giles away from the incoming blade. In the confusion, she was able to take the knife from Gordon’s hands.
But Gordon wasn’t after Giles, and he didn’t hesitate to pounce on this opportunity: He grabbed Fiona and stepped up onto the windowsill. Unless Fiona’s eyes were deceiving her, he also turned to face the king’s younger brother, who had just rushed into the room. Gordon’s mouth twisted into a mocking sneer.
“Gordon!” Prince Grenville shouted. “Let her go!”
“Fiona!” Giles cried.
Gordon jumped. Fiona felt suddenly, strangely weightless as they plummeted toward the lake’s surface together. Up above, Giles leaned out the window, and his horrified gaze met hers. He reached out to Fiona and braced against the window to jump out after her, but several sets of hands dragged him back into the room.
Oh, thank goodness Giles didn’t fall too.
That was Fiona’s final thought before she hit the water with a deafening splash.