Isla’s arm looped through Ellis’s. She ignored the twinges shooting from her shoulder. A pattern of stone and grass guided them to a large deck looking over the water. Violets and blues dimmed the sky as the moon glowed with a hazed aura.
“Are you happy?” Ellis said.
“I’m happy Ronan’s dead. Even though I wanted to pull the trigger, I’m grateful for Reed.”
“Yes, my noble son.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I want your daughter to be safe.”
“She is safe. I know your face all-too well. Why are you really doing this?”
They reached the balcony. “I was not a good father. All my children are grown. Reed and Carys are the only ones who stomach me. I have no relationship with my grandchildren.” He paused. “When I took my father’s place, it was to please him. Everything I have done on this earth was for him, but I fear my time is running short, so I want to meet your daughter. I want to meet my granddaughter.”
“What is going on?”
“I sacrificed for my family. I don’t regret such a decision. And when I’m gone, Reed will take over my affairs. You two will do great things with Amaranthine.”
“Jesus, Ellis. Who did you contract to kill Martha?”
“Do you need to ask? Crosby didn’t need much persuasion.”
“What have you done?”
“Ronan was an ally for Detroit, cancer or no cancer. Zagotta looked up to the old man.”
“We can handle Zagotta.”
“I have not doubt.”
“What about my parents? Why were they cast out?”
Ellis inhaled deeply. “Your mother became pregnant with you before she was married. In 1981, it was still forbidden, especially amongst families of class and wealth. I don’t know anything beyond that. Secrets keep families together, and they tear them apart.” He looked out to the water. Isla didn’t believe Ellis. He knew more but wasn’t telling her. “I sent for your daughter. She will be a Pierce and will be under our protection. No more running. No more hiding.”
“She’s coming here? Henry was okay with the plan?”
“Yes, and he didn’t have a choice.”
“What about Martin, Zagotta, or whoever hired Kata?”
“We’ll finish them and anyone else before my last breath. Crosby is aware of the situation and has her instructions.”
Isla’s eyes narrowed. “This will bring war within Amaranthine.” Pain burned through her shoulder blades, stalling her thoughts.
“You need something.”
“No, I’m good,” Isla said through gritted teeth.
“Come back to the house.”
“I’m not taking any drugs.”
Ellis laughed. “Rosa prepares homeopathic remedies. She gave you her special recipe while bandaging your injuries.”
“That explains a lot.”
He phoned Rosa, instructing her to fix something up for Isla’s pain. It was a short walk back to the secluded palace. Erik met them near a lit fountain; Ellis had an urgent phone call. With a quick squeeze of the arm, he instructed Erik to escort Isla back to the guesthouse. He disappeared through a tower of manicured shrubs and armed guards. Erik and Isla strolled the grounds. It was easy to get lost in false nirvana.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You can, but I may not answer,” Erik said.
“Did you dump Ronan’s body?”
“He will not be found.”
He didn’t speak further. Through the corridor, Rosa stood outside of Isla’s bedroom door holding a glass bottle filled with weeds and sticks.
“Are you giving her your witch brew?”
“It works. You hush your mouth, Erik.”
Isla swallowed hard. “What is it?”
“It will heal you quicker.”
“Or you’ll wake up with a horn in the middle of your forehead.”
Rosa swatted at him. “Go. You are needed elsewhere.”
Erik bid farewell still laughing, leaving Isla alone with Rosa and her strange, bottled brew. She gave instructions to drink it while she dug out pajamas from the dresser. Isla breathed in the stench and gagged. What was mixed in, gasoline? Formaldehyde? Isla plugged her nose and gulped the liquid down. Her guts grumbled. She coughed and looked at Rosa.
“Whose clothes are these?
“Fresh garments are always kept in the guesthouses.”
“Do you know where my bag ended up?”
“No.”
Isla held up the floral chemise. “Is there more?”
“More?”
“Like bottoms.”
Rosa handed her panties. Not what she meant. She shimmied from the dress and undergarments and slipped into the nightgown; she used the word loosely. Tight in the bust, Isla searched for a robe in the bathroom. No luck. Rosa came from the closet and handed her a long pink robe, reading her mind. More silk. Great. She wanted flannel pants and tank tops that didn’t suffocate the girls.
Rosa turned down the bed. “You will be asleep soon.”
The power of suggestion, Isla wrapped her fingers around the engraved ribbons of the bedpost. A wave of drowsiness slammed into her. Rosa guided Isla down into the crisp linen sheets. Her vision muddled.
“You will feel better. You had a long day.”
While the euphoric concoction played Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 across her nerve endings, Isla giggled. Her eyes rolled, and she could no longer keep them focused, nor did she want to. The night pulled her in as Rosa sang her a lullaby.
Sweet girl, play with the starlight
Dance on the moonbeams
Give your soul to the heavens
Let your heart take flight
Isla never sang to Jules. Hummed while she was in her belly but never crooned lullabies. Holding Jules in her arms couldn’t come soon enough. The aroma that her long blonde strands emitted reminded Isla of sunflowers in spring, and her skin was still as soft as a newborn. Though elated, a confessional was to happen between her and Reed. A battle raged inside of Isla. She had battled her feelings for far too long.
He killed Ronan. He did it for her—for Jules.