Forged by Fate

She sniffed, and then took another breath, as if to steady herself. “Elohim was my father, when this world was made. And my name…” she hesitated, and raised her eyes to his. He could see the fear in them, the worry, but he stroked her hair from her face and held her, and she went on. “My name is Eve.”

Chapter Thirteen: Present

“Where is she?” Eve paced the small room she had chosen to dress in. The sitting room was filled with antiques, including a bright red fainting couch, but more importantly, it was just off from the courtyard, which was now filled with guests, all waiting patiently.

Juliette caught her as she crossed the room for the fifth time. “Abby, s’il te plait. Sit, ma cherie. Garrit has sent Rene to find her. I am certain she has only lost track of the time.”

Eve let herself be coaxed to a seat. She rubbed her forehead. “This is just so Mia. Couldn’t she have been late to the rehearsal instead of the wedding? Jean ought to have more sense.”

Her mother patted her arm. “Don’t be so hard on your sister.”

Eve rolled her eyes.

Someone knocked on the door and then Mia burst in, breathless. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I didn’t have a watch.” Her dress was wrinkled and her hair fell from what used to be an organized pile on the top of her head. She went straight to the mirror and started pulling out bobby pins and sticking them back in. Half a dozen of them appeared in her mouth almost immediately. “Did you know this mansion has a hall of portraits? Like a proper English manor!”

Eve froze, her gaze sliding from her sister to Juliette, whose eyes had narrowed.

Mia kept talking around the bobby pins in her mouth. “It’s amazing. All of the DeLeon men have the same dark eyes. They’re all so handsome. Have you ever seen that portrait at the very end of the hall? Their matriarch or something.” Mia looked at Eve, studying her face. “She looks remarkably like you. I wonder if that’s why Garrit fell in love with you. Some weird Oedipus complex.” She turned back to the mirror and only then seemed to notice Juliette. “Oh! No offense of course, Mrs. DeLeon.”

“Less talk, more putting yourself back together, Mia,” Eve muttered, exchanging a look with her future mother-in-law. “Please.”

Juliette smiled. “I’ll just tell Pere Robert we are nearly ready.” She slipped out of the room.

“I hope I didn’t offend her. I was just saying.”

“Mia, please. Can you focus? We’re already a half hour late. There are two hundred people out there waiting on you.”

Mia grimaced, and even that expression was somehow seductively attractive. Eve sighed. After all these generations, still, each new set of siblings managed to drive her mad. Mia pulled the last pin from between her lips and secured the final strand of hair back into place, then reapplied her lipstick. “Ready!”

“You look beautiful, Mia,” their mother said, hugging her. “And Abby, of course, you look wonderful. Garrit will be beside himself.”

Eve stood and smoothed her dress before picking up the bouquet. It would be a relief to have this over with, and go back to being with her family. Her first family. It was so difficult to be Abby, when she was just getting used to being Eve again. “Mother, why don’t you go out first? Luc will be waiting to seat you.”

“Of course dear.” Her mother kissed her cheek, squeezing her free hand. “I’m so proud of you, Abby.” She opened the door and the sounds from the courtyard drifted in.

Eve could’ve sworn she heard Rene’s voice speaking urgently nearby. But then the door swung shut again, and it was quiet in the room.

“I really am sorry, Abby.” Her sister offered an apologetic smile.

Eve sighed. “You always are.”

“You look absolutely stunning. If that makes a difference.”

Eve shook her head. “I live with DeLeon men, Mia. I’m immune to flattery.”

Mia hugged her. “Jean will be so distracted by you, he won’t even look at me, I’m sure.”

“Now I know it’s flattery.” Eve smiled and pulled the door open. “At least wait until after the reception before you run off with him, would you?”

Mia flashed a grin and took up her own bouquet. “I think I can manage that.”

Eve waited another minute or so until the murmur of conversation died down outside, and then left the room. Her father stood at the back of the tent, for once his face not showing pink.

He blew his nose loudly into a handkerchief, stuffed it back into a pocket, and then took her hand. “Lovely,” he sniffed. “I’m so proud of you.”

She never had understood the pride of a parent in the marriage of a child. But she squeezed her father’s hand, and they turned toward the aisle. Garrit stood at the far end, and he was looking at her as though he’d never seen her before. Heat flushed her cheeks, and the wedding march began to play.

They started down the aisle, but Garrit’s gaze shifted slightly and his mouth firmed. She looked back over her shoulder to see what had distracted him.

Adam had just slipped into the courtyard.

Monsieur Owen, Garrit’s supposed doorman, moved quickly toward him and Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. Owen caught him by the arm and hauled him back roughly. They disappeared almost as quickly as they had come.

Garrit had stepped away from the aisle to speak to Brienne, who rose and slipped into the manor through the kitchen door. Eve’s heart raced, and the room began to spin. Garrit moved purposefully down the aisle toward her.

And everything went dark.

“What did you do to her?”

“I did what had to be done, Garrit, as you requested. Had I known what her response would be, I never would’ve—” the voice broke off. It was oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite put a face to it. “I must go before he wakes. I’ll keep him in my custody as long as I can.”

“Abby?” Garrit took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Are you all right?”

She groaned and opened her eyes just as the door shut behind the other speaker, blocking him from her sight. The fainting couch was narrow and she clutched at the edge to steady herself before she rolled off the edge. The last time she had passed out like this—the most immediate memories were from the ward, when she had been so desperate for relief, she had bled herself dry. How often she had prayed to Michael for death, then? But of course he hadn’t come. She blinked, and then finally focused on Garrit; his forehead was creased, and his face looked gray.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Your brother decided to grace us with his presence. Our security man removed him a bit more violently than we had anticipated. You passed out. Or got knocked out. We’re not certain why.”

“Adam.” She remembered the shock in her brother’s face when he saw the man who grabbed him. As if it was someone he knew, though it made no sense to her. “Why?”

Garrit shook his head. “He was rather too unconscious to get any answers at the time. He’s been removed from the manor by now. You are sain et sauf, just a bit less married than we had hoped.”

“All those guests. I passed out in front of all those guests.” She tried to sit up, and Garrit helped her. “Can we still get married today? I’d hate to have to go through all of this again.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “You haven’t been out that long. Pere Robert was kind enough to wait. Maman suggested she had strung your corset too tight, perhaps. She’s very upset about it. Your mother is reassuring her that it was your own fault for not saying