He’d lied to try and keep me safe.
No one has ever done that before.
Chapter Six
Whitley Estate
“I love him.”
My whisper is small in my large room, but it is heard by my brother. Because Finn has sneaked in like he does every night. Whitley is much too large for us to stay in our own rooms alone. There are far too many shadows, far too many things to fear. Our dogs lie at the foot of my bed, protecting us as we sleep. They are sentinels and it is comforting.
Finn pokes his head out of his covers, his light brown curls unruly.
“You’re dumb,” he announces. “You can’t love Dare. He’s our cousin. And I heard mom talking to Uncle Richard. Dare is a lost cause, Cal.”
Rage almost blinds me, red and hot, billowing from the corners of my eyes like ink.
“Don’t say that! It’s not true. He’s not lost. And Uncle Richard is a monster,” I tell him. “You know that. Plus, Dare is only our step-cousin. We’re not really related.”
“Close enough,” Finn answers. “You can’t love him. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why does it have to be right?” I sniff. “Who decides what is right and not right, anyway?”
Finn rolls his eyes before he covers his head back up with his covers. “Mom does. Besides, you have me. I’m all you need, Calla.”
I can’t argue with that.
So I drop it. Soon I hear Finn’s even breaths, signaling me that he’s asleep.
I lie still, watching the shadows move across the ceiling. I’m not scared when Finn is here, which probably really is dumb. I heard Jones telling Sabine that Finn couldn’t beat his way out of a wet paper bag, but that’s only because he hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet. Regardless, I know he’d die trying to protect me. Somehow, that’s comforting and morbid at the same time.
I close my eyes.
And when I do, all I can see is Dare’s face.
Dark hair, dark eyes, stubborn glare.
I love him.
He’s mine.
Or he’ll be mine someday. I know it in my heart, as sure as I know my name is Calla Elizabeth Price.
I sleep to the sounds of the moors…the wind, the dark, the silence, the growls. The moors here at Whitley growl, although no one else seems to notice. At first I thought it was Castor, but it’s not. He’d never growl at me. But the moors do.
After the morning sun wakes me up, I pull some clothes on and dash down to the kitchens, hoping to see him before breakfast.
“Is Dare here?” I ask as Castor and I skid around the corner. Sabine eyes me from beneath her scarf as she hands me a croissant.
“Shh, child. I think I saw him slip outdoors.”
She’s quiet so that no one will overhear her. I tell her thank you over my shoulder and head for the grounds, because that’s where Dare likes to be. He hates the house, and he hates most of the people inside.
But he doesn’t hate me.
Even though I’m only eight and he’s eleven. I know this because he told me.
I race down the paths, over the cobbles and between the gates of the secret garden with my dog on my heels. I watch for Dare above the flowers, beneath the massive angel statues, and I finally see him sitting on the edge of a pond, his dark eyes thoughtful as he skips a rock across the glassy surface.
“You’re not supposed to be out here,” I tell him tentatively as I approach. He barely glances up.
“So go tell Eleanor.”
His tone is sullen as he mentions my grandmother, but I’m used to that.
My mother said his lot in life has left him grumpy, that I’m to be patient.
I’m more than patient.
I live for every word out of his mouth.
I sit next to him, and even though I try, none of my rocks skip. They just fall heavily into the water.
Wordlessly, Dare reaches over and adjusts my hand, making me flick my wrist as I toss the stone. I watch it skip once, twice, three times before it sinks.
I smile.
“What does ‘lot in life’ mean?” I ask him curiously.
His eyes narrow.