Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws (14 page)

“Yes, see you then.”

“Tell Rush and the other band members that they can start moving their things in tomorrow.”

Elle saw Edward’s jaw tighten at the mention of Rush’s name. She fleetingly wondered if Edward even knew she was part of a band.

“Edward will give you a ride home … since he was headed to your house anyway.” Adele looked straight at Edward. “Won’t you, dear?”

He had a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Uh … yeah … sure …”

Elle hurriedly grabbed her stuff, before Adele could say any more crazy things to Edward.

“
N
ice car
.” Elle took in the sleek lines of the yellow and black refurbished Mustang.

“Thanks,” Edward said nonchalantly, but she could tell that it was his pride and joy. “It’s a 1969.”

They drove home in silence, and all the while, Elle was trying to figure out what it was that Edward wanted to talk to her about. She kept waiting for him to broach the subject, but he didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the silence as she did. Finally they pulled up in front of her house. When Edward didn’t make a move to speak, Elle reached for the door. “Well … thanks for the ride.”

“Wait.” He turned in his seat so that he was facing her. “I know things have been tense between us ever since homecoming.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to escort you onto the field.”

“You ran off the field and left me standing there, Edward. I felt like a complete idiot.”

“I know.” His jaw tensed. “Coach Harris was being a real butt. I tried to tell him that you were waiting for me to escort you, but he said I had to choose between the team and you. I didn’t know what to do, so I … ” He shook his head, unable to continue.

“You chose the team,” she finished for him. The comment was a punch in the gut.

“Yeah … I … the team’s counting on me to carry them through the season. I’ve got so much invested in it … I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I see.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended for them to. While a part of her understood his dilemma, the other part—the larger part—was still hurt. It had felt like a betrayal.

He clenched his fist. “I just want things to be right between us again. We’ve been together since junior high.”

She didn’t realize they’d been together that long. Funny, she’d never thought to ask. Then again, she and Edward hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms lately.

He gave her a pleading look. “I care about you, Elle.” He scooted closer to her, and she could see the sincerity emanating from his eyes. She felt herself soften. “I want another chance. A chance to make things right between us. Will you give me that chance, Elle?” His voice grew husky, and his eyes went to her lips, causing a tingle to run down her spine. He touched a strand of her hair. “Will you give me that? Will you give
us
that? We’re good together.”

Her heart picked up a notch as she sought for the right words. What did she want? At the moment, she didn’t have a clue. She studied the lines of Edward’s face, trying to figure out why she felt like she owed him something. Maybe it was because they had been together so long. All of those years before the accident, they’d been together. He was everything a girl could want—a football hero and very handsome with his even features and mop of blonde hair that was longer in the front so that it occasionally flopped down over one eye. He was … she sought for the right word to describe him … comfortable. Yes, that was it. Being around Edward felt safe and comfortable. He didn’t release the torrent of emotions in her that Rush did, and that was a good thing. Maybe she should just let him kiss her, then everything would be back to the way it was before the accident. She leaned in and parted her lips. Edward gave her a small smile and leaned in to meet her halfway. The instant before their lips touched, she saw him. “Rush,” she muttered.

Edward jumped back like he’d been slapped. A furious expression twisted over his face. “What did you call me?”

She shook her head. “No! I meant that I see Rush, sitting on his front porch—watching us.”

Edward glared out the window. “What does he think he’s doing?”

“Probably just sitting on his front porch. I mean, he does live there,” Elle said, even though she knew better. Even from the car, she’d seen the black look on Rush’s face in that moment before she almost kissed Edward. She could feel the condemnation radiating like a beacon. It stripped away her defenses, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

“I need to go,” she said.

“No, I’m gonna go knock a plug out of that big shot right now! He’s gonna learn that he can’t get away with kissing my girl on the field.”

Panic fluttered in Elle’s breast. She grabbed his arm. “No! Please don’t!”

Edward stopped and looked at her. She could see suspicion creeping into his eyes. “You care about him, don’t you?”

“No!” she scoffed. “I can’t stand the guy!”

He studied her. “You sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she slung back, her eyes blazing. “The only reason I was on the field with him to begin with was because you weren’t there.”

“You know he’s trouble, right?”

She looked him in the eye. “I told you, I don’t care a flip about him.” The words cut through her lips and hissed around her.
You lie!
her mind screamed.
Why do you lie?

“Good, because he got kicked off the team this summer because marijuana was found in his duffle bag.”

An invisible fist started squeezing her heart. So the rumors were true. “He means absolutely nothing to me.” She lifted her chin.

He relaxed at that, and she felt a surge of relief that left her feeling exhausted. He slipped an arm around her neck. “Come here,” he whispered.

Her eyes went wide when she realized he was going to try and kiss her again. The thoughts of him kissing her with Rush watching, horrified her. She leaned back. “Um, I need to go.”

Disappointment clouded his eyes. Reluctantly he removed his arm. She put her hand on his cheek to soften the blow. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

She shrugged. “Just … thanks.”

A ghost of a smile flittered on his mouth, causing his features to lighten. There was a boyish innocence about him that only added to his attractiveness. “Hey, my dad’s having a little get-together on Saturday evening. Do you think you could come?”

She mentally reviewed the upcoming weekend. She would have to work at The Chocolate Fountain, and the band would probably be practicing. It would be tight, but she could make it work. She looked at his hopeful expression. “I would like that,” she finally said.

This time, he gave her a real smile. It shot an arrow of warmth through her. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

She smiled back. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hey.” He reached for the box. “Your chocolate.”

“But you didn’t get to eat the peanut brittle.”

“Save me some.”

His intimate tone closed the distance between them, and she felt a connection. “I’ll do that,” she said, closing the door. She waved to him as he drove away.

She shot a scathing look in Rush’s direction as she walked up the steps. He returned the look with a hateful glare of his own. He’d flat-out lied to her about football. He hadn’t quit the team, he’d been kicked off. He told her he’d been unjustly accused of something.
Right!
The most frustrating part about the whole thing was that she did care about him. She just hadn’t realized how much she cared … up until the moment she was denying it to Edward. That’s why it would never work between them. They were both deceivers! She went inside her house and slammed the door shut. But try as she might, she couldn’t shut out the image of him, sitting on the steps with those intense blue eyes fired in her direction. At the moment, she didn’t know who she hated the most—Rush or herself.

S
weat poured
down Rush’s face, stinging his eyes, as he punched the bag again and again with all of his might. He punched until he was spent, but nothing could ease the anger that was eating him from the inside out. It was starting all over again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Elle was playing him. She was up to her old tricks—sending him mixed signals while dating Edward. If she’d not seen him staring at her from the porch, she would’ve kissed him. A few short hours ago, she was cuddled up against him on the bike, and then she was in the car with Edward—about to kiss the jerk!

He punched the bag again, thinking how he would like to punch Edward’s pretty face a time or two. For the life of him, he couldn’t see what Elle saw in Edward, aside from the fact that he was passably attractive, the quarterback, the principal’s son, wealthy, and popular. So, she liked him for all of those superficial reasons, and that’s because she was just as shallow as Edward. She and Edward were an item when he moved to town, so why should things be any different now? How many times had she promised him that she would break things off with Edward? It was always the same old story. This time, he wasn’t going to fall for her tricks. This time, he would be strong. An image of Elle, sitting on the roof, her long hair blowing in the wind, flashed through his mind. She’d looked so lost and vulnerable, and then she’d given him that silly truffle. His heart wrenched. What was it about her that consumed him so? From the moment he laid eyes on her, it was like some invisible force was pulling them together. He felt as though he’d loved her for a lifetime … maybe longer.

He gave the bag another swift jab, yanked off the gloves, and leaned his forehead against it, his breath coming in gasps. He’d hoped the punching bag would help him vent his anger, but nothing was working. He looked at the bike. A fast, hard ride would do the trick.

A few minutes later, he was suited up and ready to go.

The door leading to kitchen opened, and he saw his mother standing there. “Hey.”

She leaned against the doorframe, her hands resting in her jean pockets. She motioned at the punching bag. “You were punching that thing for all it was worth.”

“Just getting some exercise.”

“So, I noticed,” she said dryly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He didn’t have to look at her face to know that she wasn’t buying it. He was a terrible liar where his mother was concerned. She could see right through him.

“You sure about that?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Wisteria raised an eyebrow. “She’s not worth the effort. A zebra doesn’t change its stripes.”

He let out a ragged chuckle. “You’re right about that.”

“I ordered a pizza.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry right now. I’m going for a ride. I’ll be back soon.”

She looked at him for a long moment, and he feared that she might tell him to stay home. He felt like he would burst if he couldn’t release these pent-up emotions. “Okay, be careful,” she finally said.

His shoulders sagged in relief. “Will do.” He gave her a slight smile before revving up the engine and backing out of the garage. He turned out of the driveway and onto the street, making sure to keep the speed low, in case his mother was watching. It wasn’t until he turned onto the open road that he let it go. Adrenaline surged through his body as the bike raced forward. The cool air felt good against his face, and he was one with the bike. The raw power was intoxicating. He leaned forward. Faster … faster! He saw the headlights coming at him in the distance. Closer … closer … The bright lights blinded him. “Turn your lights on dim, idiot!” he shouted, but the words got lost in the night air. His heart lurched when the lights swerved into him. He jerked the handlebars in an attempt to avoid a head-on collision. The vehicle whizzed past, narrowly missing him. That’s when it registered in his consciousness that he’d overcompensated to avoid the jeep, and now he was barreling through a field. He hit the brakes, but he was going too fast to stop. The wheels locked, skidding, and he braced for the impact. For directly ahead was a black ribbon of water, and he was headed straight towards it. At the last second, before the bike plunged into the water, he dove off.

T
he scent
of roasting boar mixed with human excrement was the first thing Rushton noticed when he awoke. Then he heard the music in the air, mingling with the dull roar of the crowd. It was the smell of Tournament, where all of the classes came together in a mottled mound of human flesh that was comprised of royalty, nobles, and commoners. The tournament was the one event in the kingdom that yielded a paradoxical blending of opposites: the noble mixed with the poor, the beautiful with the ugly, the savory with the unsavory. Hence the mound of manure with flies buzzing around it, not five sword lengths from where he was sitting. He cringed and averted his nose. That had most assuredly not been there when he first sat down. Rushton became aware of the hard ground underneath him and the tree at his back. A nearby commotion caught his attention, and he looked to where a fire breather was bellowing out bursts of flames amidst murmurs of awe. A dainty young maiden walked past him, giving him a tentative smile. When he lifted his hand to wave, she blushed. She was pushing a cart loaded with bread.

“Bread for sale,” she yelled. “Get ye a fresh loaf of baked bread for only one farthing.”

His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d not eaten since midday. Strings of sausages were strung over her shoulders.

“Sausages for sale,” he heard her bellow as she continued walking away from him and through the throng of people.

He shielded his eyes and looked up to see a man standing over him; but he couldn’t make out his features because the afternoon sun was directly behind him, casting a shadow over his face.

“No time for napping, squire.”

He recognized the voice instantly as Prince Edward extended a hand to help him to his feet.

Rushton nodded and brushed off his clothes. He’d only meant to rest against the tree for a few moments. His exhaustion was understandable, however, due to the rigorous training that preceded each tournament. They’d been practicing for the tournament for over a week, going through all of the perfunctory drills: two-handed sword, battle axe, mace, dagger, and the lance. While the squires were required to go through the training alongside the knights, they normally weren’t allowed to participate in the actual tournament. This time was different, however. King Aalexander had decreed that a portion of the tournament be reserved for squires. Of course that meant that every squire over the age of twelve had rushed out to sign up on the lists. For as long as Rushton could remember, the tournament for the squires was held the day before the main tournament. Never before had the squire competitions been part of the actual tournament. Rushton suspected that the change in protocol came about because Prince Edward was nearing the age of adulthood, and the King wanted him to be able to participate. For a brief moment, Rushton allowed himself the luxury of wondering what it must be like to have the rules of a tournament changed on your behalf. He wondered what it would be like to walk in Prince Edward’s shoes and have every request met with the flick of a finger, but then he squelched the thought. Edward was not only the prince but also his friend. They’d been inseparable since they were lads. He didn’t begrudge Edward for the privileges he enjoyed because with those privileges came a heavy mantle of responsibility.

Edward seemed oblivious to the attention he was getting as they walked through the crowd of people. An aged man with thinning hair and his plump wife bowed ceremoniously. A mother, holding a babe in her arms, paused and gave them a curtsy. Rushton acknowledged the gestures with a nod of his head, but Prince Edward didn’t even look in their direction. Instead, he gave Rushton a sly smile. “A nap in the middle of the day? During Tournament?” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “I hope thou art not going soft on me. I’d hate to have to best thee tomorrow.”

Rushton chuckled. “Best me? Aye, that would be a first, mi’ lord.”

Edward scowled, but his eyes were twinkling, and Rushton knew he was grateful to have a formidable opponent—one that wouldn’t lie down like a sick dog and let Edward win, solely because he was the Crown Prince. Rushton didn’t blame the other squires for being intimidated. Willfully injuring the prince could get a man beheaded … or worse. Still, Edward deserved a fair challenge, and Rushton was more than willing to give it to him.

Rushton began rubbing his aching shoulder. Edward gave him a concerned look. “Shall we stop by the physician’s pavilion and get that checked? I want you to be in tip-top shape for our challenge. That way, you won’t have an excuse when I win.”

He made a face. “Unfortunately, there’s no treatment for sore muscles. They’ve been working us like cattle all week. I’ve lanced so many wooden targets that it’s a wonder that I can still move my arm.” He shot Edward a sideways look. “Not all of us receive the royal treatment, your highness.” He couldn’t resist getting in a jab, considering that Edward had only come to practice the first two days.

Accustomed to Rushton’s candor, Edward was not affected in the least. He waved the comment away with a flourish of his hand. “My father summoned me to the castle. I prithee, what else could I do?”

Rushton rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Male laughter and easy banter filled the air as they maneuvered through the brightly colored pavilions that housed the apothecary, physicians, and tournament participants. Just outside of those were the blacksmiths, armorers, clothiers, and attiliators that made cross bows. During tournament, an entire city sprang up from what were previously empty fields. They made their way to the massive grandstand with its elaborate seating and balconies. It was built tall enough so that the royals and nobles would have a bird’s-eye view of the field where the tournament would take place. They walked to the lower field to where there weren’t as many people and paused, leaning against the wooden fence that encircled the field, providing a barrier between the combatants and spectators. The field was a picture of tranquility, belying the turbulent events that would take place the following day. Edward looked at Rushton and asked casually. “Hast thou chosen a maiden?”

The comment took Rushton off guard. He coughed and then stumbled around trying to come up with answer. “Well … I’m … I’m keeping my options open.”

Edward laughed. “Fair enough.”

The truth was that Rushton had eyes for only one maiden—Cinderella, and he’d chosen her long before the tournament. Thanks to his mother, Cinderella was now a Lady in Waiting at the castle. That meant that she would participate in the Parade of Maidens, and more importantly, that he would be able to choose her. He would no doubt win the jousting section of the tournament for her and perhaps the sword. A warm glow settled in his chest as he considered what that would mean for Cinderella. The victors of every tournament, along with their chosen maidens, led the first dance at the Victory Ball. It was one of the highest honors a maiden could receive, but more importantly, it would give Cinderella the confidence boost she needed in order to feel that she belonged here amongst the royals, with him. Since her arrival, the other Ladies in Waiting had treated her mercilessly, letting her know in no uncertain terms that even though she was now a lady of status, living in a house adjoining the castle, that they would always consider her a commoner. Rushton pushed aside his private thoughts and focused instead on the conversation at hand. He knew Edward well enough to know that he had an agenda, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the time, on the eve of the tournament, to seek him out. With Edward, nothing was happenstance or coincidence. Everything about him was precisely controlled. Rushton gave him a speculative look. “And which fair maiden has been fortunate enough to catch thy eye, mi’ lord?”

Edward gave him a stilted smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It mattereth not which maiden I choose because my father hath already chosen for me.”

Ah, the picture suddenly became clear. Edward was opening up a topic that they’d previously discussed too many times to count. Rushton blew out a breath. “Aye, ‘tis a terrible plight, indeed. I do empathize with you, Edward, I really do, but that which you ask … I cannot do. The risks are too great. Magic is forbidden. If we get caught …” He shook his head. “Nay, you must not ask this of me, I prithee. Nay!” He spoke the words low and urgently, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening.

Edward clenched a fist. “I beg thee! Help me! I’ll die before I marry Princess Helsin, that atrocity to her kind, that man bride.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “If you will take me to the sorceress, so that she can foretell my fortune then I shall be able to discern the path that I should take.” His voice was low and urgent. “No one has to know. I will forever be in thy debt.” He gritted his teeth. “I have to know if there’s someone—a love out there for me. Please … help me, Rushton, as my closest friend … my brother.”

Edward had only referred to him as a
brother
once before, in the heat of battle when they were staring death in the face. Either he was laying it on thick, or he was truly desperate. As he looked at Edward’s crestfallen expression, sympathy welled in his breast. He couldn’t imagine being forced to marry that horrible princess that had visited the castle last autumn. No wonder Edward was panicking. Still, what Edward was asking him to do was treason. The Sorceress Griselda was known and feared throughout the land. Few had ever seen her, and even fewer knew where she lived. Rushton knew because he’d gone there several times with his mother, but if anyone found that out, he’d be a dead man for sure, and his mother would be burned at the stake for practicing magic. Rushton had never intended to tell a soul about Griselda, but once when they were ten years old, Edward, curious to see where his friend was going, had followed them partway. Later Edward had questioned Rushton relentlessly until Rushton admitted that they were going to see Griselda. Telling Edward about Griselda was a mistake—a mistake he was still paying for.