Chapter 36: Because I Don't Think You'll Hug Me I Ended Up Living Next Door to My Ex-Husband
The moment the carriage rolled to a stop, the household staff came flooding out of the mansion. They clustered at the bottom of the steps, visibly unsettled, their eyes moving between the wrecked state of the carriage and Cedric stepping out of it with his usual composure entirely intact. "Your Highness! What in the world happened?" The aide rushed forward, taking in the splintered door frame, the torn roof, the general air of aftermath. "Your Highness, I'll have someone sent for immediately — the physician should be here at once—" "Don't cause a scene." Cedric's tone was mild but final. While his aide absorbed this, Adrian appeared at the carriage door and extended his hand toward me. "Your Highness, allow me to escort you inside." Before I had fully registered the offer, Cedric had stepped back, moved Adrian's hand aside with a single smooth gesture, and lifted me into his arms. "...Wh—" The sound I made was not dignified. I stared up at him, fully expecting some sort of explanation, but he had already turned to his aide. "Have the physician sent to the dark mansion." His aide blinked. Around him, the assembled staff exchanged glances with the careful neutrality of people who have learned not to react visibly to anything. "The... dark mansion, Your Highness?" "Yes. I want the Grand Duchess examined immediately." With that, Cedric simply began walking — steady, unhurried, carrying me as though this were a perfectly ordinary occurrence — toward the dark mansion. The staff parted to let him through and watched us go. I watched them from over his shoulder, burning with embarrassment. "This really isn't necessary, Cedric." "It is." "I had a shock, yes, but I'm perfectly capable of walking—" "You'll feel the full effect of the shock later. You always do." He said it so matter-of-factly that I almost forgot to argue. Adrian fell into step beside us, and when he saw Cedric show no signs of reconsidering, he moved slightly ahead. "Your Highness." Adrian's voice was carefully measured. "You must be exhausted from tonight. I'm happy to take over the escort — please, allow me." Cedric stopped walking. He looked at Adrian for a long, unreadable moment. Something moved behind his eyes that I couldn't quite interpret. Then his gaze dropped to me, and he spoke as though addressing a mildly inconvenient situation. "Stop talking nonsense." A beat. "Rebecca — put your arms around my neck." Adrian blinked. "I'm sorry?" "I don't expect the Grand Duchess to do it on her own initiative. So make yourself useful and open the door." The delivery was so flat, so completely without irony, that it took a moment to register as the absurd thing it was. Why does he say things like that with a perfectly straight face? I thought, watching poor Adrian struggle visibly to find a response. The atmosphere could not be more uncomfortable. I cleared my throat and looped my arms around Cedric's neck before the silence could stretch any further. "Like this?" He looked down at me. Something shifted — the faintest relaxation at the corner of his mouth. "Yes. Like that." "...Good. I'm glad something meets with your approval." "That's not what I—" He paused. "I didn't say I disliked it before." "You implied it rather strongly." "What I said was—" Another pause, longer this time. He seemed to be choosing carefully. "I said I don't dislike it. Anymore." The word sat between us for a moment. "...Anymore," I repeated. "Yes." "What a ringing endorsement." "Rebecca." His voice dropped slightly. "I would appreciate it if you'd keep your arms there until we reach the lobby. That's all I'm asking." He said it with such genuine, uncharacteristic awkwardness — as though making a request he found somewhat difficult and was hoping I wouldn't make worse — that I found I didn't have a response ready. Something warm moved through my chest and settled there without my permission. I turned my face away so he wouldn't see whatever was happening with my expression. "...Fine. If it puts you at ease." He let out a quiet breath, almost too quiet to catch. Then he resumed walking. I kept my arms where they were and turned my attention to Adrian, who was walking slightly behind us. His gaze was aimed at the ground. "Adrian — are you all right?" He looked up quickly, as though pulled out of somewhere far away. "Of course, Your Highness. I'm perfectly fine." "You held off that entire mob in the coachman's box by yourself. Don't pretend that was nothing." He smiled and shook his head. "No injuries. I promise." "Truly?" "Truly." I studied him for a moment longer, unconvinced by the ease of the smile. "Adrian's ability is quite exceptional, even by demon world standards." Cedric's voice came from above me, accompanied by the faintest edge of something I might have called displeasure if I were feeling charitable. "He doesn't need the concern." "I'm allowed to be concerned." "Of course. Direct it somewhere appropriate." "And where would that be?" "Toward your husband, for instance. Who also spent the evening dealing with an army of enchanted straw dolls." I looked up. "You have considerably more magical power than Adrian. You've said so yourself." Cedric's expression shifted. He tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress what appeared to be a satisfied smile. "Well," he said. "That's more or less accurate." Adrian opened the door to the dark mansion and stood aside. Cedric carried me through into the lobby without breaking stride. When we reached the center of the room, I tapped his shoulder. "This is the lobby. You can put me down now." He paused — a single moment of something unspoken — and then set me down carefully. "Thank you," I said. "For tonight. Genuinely." I looked up at him. "Now go and rest. You've done enough, and you're probably more tired than either of us." Adrian stepped smoothly to my side. "I'll see Her Highness upstairs, Your Highness. You needn't worry." Cedric's gaze moved to Adrian. Something in it sharpened. "There are perfectly capable maids for that. Why is a—" He stopped speaking mid-sentence. Adrian went very still. Cedric's eyes had shifted — not to me, not to Adrian — but to the far wall of the lobby. I turned to look. That painting. It occupied nearly an entire wall — a vast, lightless forest rendered in near-colorless tones, all dense trunks and layered shadow. Every time I passed through this lobby I tried not to look at it directly, and every time it managed to catch the edge of my attention anyway. Standing before it always produced the same sensation: the creeping feeling of being left alone somewhere dark, with no clear path out. Cedric and Adrian were both staring at it. The silence stretched. Cedric exhaled slowly through his nose. "He's coming." "It appears so," Adrian said. "He must have felt the disturbance in the forest." "Will someone please explain what you're looking at?" I looked between them, baffled. "And why you're looking at a painting?" Cedric turned to me with the patience of someone who has just remembered that not everyone shares his context. "Vincent will be here shortly." "Vincent," I repeated. "Who is—" Adrian leaned close and spoke quietly. "Your Highness — that is not precisely a painting. It depicts the forest of the Demon World. And it functions as a passage between there and here." I thought of what Adrian had told me once before — the Demon World forest is very dark; finding the flowers there is considered a sign of good fortune — and suddenly the painting's oppressive darkness made a different kind of sense. Before I could fully process this, a small light appeared in the depths of the painted forest. Far back, barely visible between the dark trunks. Moving. Getting closer. The painted trees swayed as it passed. The quality of the silence in the lobby changed — deepened — and threading through it came sounds that hadn't been there a moment before: wind moving through branches, something calling in the dark. Then the undergrowth at the painting's foreground rustled, and someone stepped through it. Stepped out of it. "I was having a perfectly good evening," said an unfamiliar voice, low and unhurried, with an edge to it that suggested whoever was speaking was quite accustomed to being obeyed. "So which one of you is the idiot disturbing my peace?" The man who emerged was tall — broad through the shoulder, loose-limbed in a way that didn't suggest ease so much as coiled readiness. Silver hair fell across half his forehead. He was wearing a nightgown, loosely fastened, that left a quantity of scarred bronze skin visible across his torso. His eyes were gold, and they were currently scanning the room with the expression of someone fully prepared to be unpleasant. There was a large scar curving from the corner of his mouth, and several more on his abdomen, each one suggesting a different unpleasant story. He looked, I thought, like a man who had survived a great many things that should have killed him and had arrived at a somewhat combative relationship with the world as a result. "You've traveled a long way to open with nonsense, Vincent." Cedric's voice was perfectly dry. Something happened to the man's face — the predatory readiness dissolved, replaced by what was recognizably, if unexpectedly, warmth. He reached for the nightgown's loose tie and began knotting it. "Cedric." He grinned. "Still got that lovely way with greetings. Every time I hear it I feel better about myself — at least I'm not as bad as you." He tilted his head. "Seriously, though. Why do you stay here among the humans? Come back to the Demon World. You'd be considerably less miserable." "I'm not miserable." "You're carrying it well. I'll grant you that." His golden gaze swept sideways. "Adrian, too? Is this a holiday?" Adrian smiled with visible restraint. "It's good to see you, Vincent." "Likewise, unlikely as the circumstances are." Vincent's eyes continued their sweep — and landed on me. Adrian moved to my side and murmured, "Vincent is head of the Norman family, one of the Demon World's grand duchies. They're descended from the twin brother who returned to the Demon World in the old age. The two families have maintained ties since." So this was someone from Cedric's world. A world he had never once mentioned to me in four years of marriage. Vincent studied me with those unsettling gold eyes, unhurried and direct. "Right," he said. "You must be the Grand Duchess of the Twins family. The eccentric one they've been talking about." They've been talking about me in the Demon World? "I'll assume that's less flattering than it sounds," I said. He laughed — genuine, unpolished. "My relatives were absolutely beside themselves. Couldn't stop reporting back. Even old Devil had commentary, and that man rarely bothers." He wrinkled his nose. "He's a relative of mine, incidentally. Old enough to be embarrassing about it." "I see." He watched me for another moment, gold eyes moving over my face with an expression I couldn't quite decode — curious, but also oddly searching, as though looking for something specific. Then he scratched one eyebrow and took a slow step toward me. "Here's a strange thing, though." His voice had shifted — less performance, more genuine puzzlement. He was close enough now that I had to look up at him, and his expression had gone almost careful. "The two of us have never met before." It wasn't a question. "No," I agreed. "We haven't." "Mm." He looked at me steadily. "So why do I feel like we have?"