Mortal Follies: A devilishly funny Regency romantasy from the bestselling author of Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

Author:Alexis Hall [Hall, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781399616461
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2023-06-05T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER

19

That the doors were open at so late an hour was not itself remarkable. The houses of the gods are never closed unless the gods will it, and while technically the bathhouses remained the exclusive property of the corporation who administered them, their divine resident felt otherwise, and it had been some while since any of the mortal proprietors had made the mistake of defying her.

Within, a haze of steam filled all the rooms and chambers of the house. This was not unheard-of in the baths themselves—it was, after all, a hot spring—but now it hung in the air like a miasma, and for those who watched carefully (and I do, for all my protestations as to my own caprice, always watch carefully), shapes formed in the mist that both warned and beckoned.

The Viscount Fortrose half-led, half-dragged Miss Mitchelmore through the pump room, down the steps to the King’s Bath, and then on and down the narrower, older stairs to the ancient and sacred structure that lies beneath. Adopting a misty form I swiftly overtook them, made my own brief obeisance to the lady of that place, and then retreated to the darkest crannies of the spring cave in order to better observe without dying.

The sacred well was already overflowing, and so Miss Mitchelmore and the viscount were both ankle-deep in water when he spun her around, pulled her close, and demanded to know her ultimate choice.

“Well, lady, what will it be? Me, or the well?”

“The well.”

No sooner had she spoken the words than the air roared with the sound of rushing water and the statue of Sulis Minerva that stood watch over the shrine turned from bronze to flesh in a shift so subtle that few could truly say it had changed at all.

“You have returned.”

The voice of the goddess came, once more, from everywhere.

“I have,” replied the viscount and Miss Mitchelmore both, each assuming, as mortals are so wont to do, that they were the one addressed.

In the end, whether out of some vestigial social grace on the part of the viscount or as a result of her will genuinely being the stronger, it was Miss Mitchelmore who continued. “I have brought my tormentor to face you,” she said. This wasn’t entirely true; she had more been brought by her tormentor, but in her place I, too, would have elided that particular detail. “He has no claim over me, and has offered me to you without cause. I hold that my heart and my body are my own to give as I will, and not his to offer up.”

While Miss Mitchelmore had been speaking, the viscount had stepped neatly to the side, and now he dropped to one knee in the slowly flooding chamber and bowed his head in a surprisingly sincere display of submission. “Great Goddess Sulis Minerva, this girl defies us both. I offered her to you in humble supplication, in recognition of your majesty—”

“You offered me to her out of spite.” Miss Mitchelmore could put up with an attempt to murder her, but not with a disingenuous attempt to murder her.

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