Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Emmy tried to rub her sand-battered eyes, tried to clear the impossible vision of Grace Eloise Montgomery in a moonlit maid’s
uniform. But there Grace stood, passing the chain of Rose’s relic over her head with a triumphant smile.
And she’d called her Emmy, not Winnie Fairchild. She knew.
“What did you do to Mary?” She was wearing Mary’s clothes, right down to her cross. Mary never would have parted with it willingly.
Grace patted the relic against her sternum. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you?”
“Where is she?” No blood underneath Grace’s fingernails. No cuts or signs of a struggle.
“And you’re supposed to be the smart one.” Grace waved her hands over her body. “Don’t you see now? I am Mary. I have always been Mary.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Emmy spat. “I’ve seen you together.”
“Ah, yes, you met the real Mary at my aunt and uncle’s ball.” Grace could hardly contain her delight. “But ever since that
night, it’s been me.”
Emmy must have made a face, for Grace laughed, a titter as delicate as bells.
Caleb had read Mary’s thoughts. He’d vetted her, making sure her intentions were good.
“You’re lying,” Emmy heard herself say. Mary had been nothing but kind since Emmy hired her. Mary had jumped in the river,
celebrating the Strattons’ downfall. They’d picked out Emmy’s gowns together, sorted through Grace’s enchanted jewelry together—
Mary, who worked only part-time.
Mary, who dutifully did Emmy’s hair, just as Grace had done for most of their lives.
Grace, who’d been disappearing from Clarity Hall all summer.
Humming to herself, Grace procured a ring from a pocket hidden in her skirt. As soon as she slipped it on her finger, she
disappeared.
Emmy’s legs shook precariously as she threw out her hands, meager protection from the invisible backstabber. Without the relic,
Emmy was almost defenseless.
“I have had to bridge so many of these little rings.” Grace’s voice echoed through the trees. “I’ve had to pay the real Mary
quite handsomely to keep making them. Though not as much as the small fortune you’ve paid me to be your part-time maid.”
The real Mary.
Because Emmy hadn’t hired the real Mary; she’d hired Grace.
Tears burned behind Emmy’s eyes, and she fought like hell to keep them at bay.
But of course, Grace saw right through her as soon as she reappeared. “When I learned of your offer to my maid, I knew I couldn’t
pass up an opportunity to find out what the pretty new girl was hiding. Mrs. Stratton might have been taken by Winnie Fairchild,
but I’ve always been an impeccable judge of character.”
Emmy stared at her, each breath growing more ragged. “It’s not possible.”
“Ah, but with Papa’s gift, it is.” Grace grinned proudly. “Using conjury I’d bridged from him over the years. I transformed
my face, but I modulated my bridging so that the transformation takes effect only while I’m touching this cross. When I’m
not wearing it, it’s undone.”
“Your conjury can’t do that,” Emmy growled.
“You’re so arrogant, you truly believe you know my conjury better than me. Even now.” Grace shot her a scathing look. “I was a Society protégé for two whole years. Watch.”
She plucked the silver cross from the ground, her face rearranging to Mary’s. She pitched her voice so that it was higher
and breathier. “Why hello, miss! How can I help you, miss?”
Grace’s face changed back to her real one as she returned the cross to her pocket. The ease of the transformation made Emmy’s
stomach twist, and for a horrifying moment, she thought she might be sick all over the ground between them.
“You put the truth bracelet in my jewelry box,” Emmy rasped.
“And imagine my surprise when Winnie Fairchild turned into you.” Raw hurt shone in Grace’s eyes. “I thought you were dead. I grieved for you.”
“Grieved for me?” Emmy choked. “You left me in Grimsbane to rot. You framed me!”
“I had no choice,” Grace hissed. “I wanted us both to become protégés, I truly did. But if they were taking only one, it had
to be me. My life was hell compared to yours.”
No remorse. Not even a drop. Emmy glared at her. “Papa is dead because of you.”
“I couldn’t possibly have known that he’d go after the chancellor like that!” She had the audacity to look wounded. “I loved
Papa. You know I did.”
“Just like you loved me?” Emmy scoffed.
“I did love you, Emmy.” Grace gave a small shrug. “But it was going to be either you or me.”
They stared at each other. Six paces away.
“I know you’re thinking about how to get this back.” Grace patted the relic’s chain. “But it’s mine now, which is fitting,
given that Rose was able to make it only with my help.”
“Liar.” But Grace looked so smug, Emmy could not help but consider it.
Grace and Oliver had known of the relic’s existence, though no one had breathed a word of it.
Rose’s relic did not work like an ordinary relic. It was made from the bone of someone with amplifying conjury. Touch activated
that conjury . . . much like Grace’s creations.
Had Rose needed bridging conjury to complete the relic? And if so, wouldn’t she have told Caleb?
Reaching into her skirts, Grace removed her other relic and slipped it onto her neck. “Rose’s is much stronger, but two is better than one.”
“That’s why you went through all this trouble?” Emmy was so angry, she could hardly get the words out. “You were after Rose’s
relic the whole time?”
“Think, Emmy.” Grace’s fingers tapped her temple. “If I only wanted the relic, I would have ripped it off you the first time I tied
your corset. But by ensuring you succeeded against the Strattons, I gave myself the perfect opportunity to win over Oliver’s
mother. How can she refuse me as a daughter-in-law now that I’ve cleared Ollie’s name?”
Emmy was going to rot in hell after today, because she was going to murder Grace, to squeeze her skinny neck until her face
was as blue as her eyes.
“You may not believe me,” Grace said quietly, “but it was nice to be your friend again, if only for a little while. Those
first few months without you were so hard.”
“You poor thing,” Emmy snarled. Her anger was a living, breathing monster in her chest, and the longer she stared at Grace,
the more it clawed its way out. But she needed that relic. She could not get Jack, or Jimmy, or anyone back without the powerful
amplifier.
“Oh, quit with the sarcasm. It’s unbecoming.” Smoothing her skirts, Grace lifted her chin. “I believe I have a fair compromise
for us: if you leave right now and never return, you have my word that Jack and Jimmy will both live.”
She must have thought Emmy a bumbling fool. “Your word means nothing.”
“This is rather generous of me, Ems. I’m the one who must convince my aunt and uncle not to seek the death sentence for their own daughter’s killer. And I must convince
Mrs. Stratton, too, which will certainly put a damper on my engagement to Oliver.”
“Fuck you.” She stepped closer to Grace. Five paces now.
“Such language is unbecoming of a lady.” With a knowing smile, Grace tilted her head. “Oh, come on, Ems, don’t you want to
live? You still have your conjury. Make yourself rich! Find a nice man far away from here. One who doesn’t lie to you all
the time.”
Four steps.
Grace tilted her head. “Oh, I see. You’re so obsessed with me, you cannot bear to leave.”
Three steps would have to do.
Emmy launched herself at Grace. Screaming, Grace fell to the dirt, and Emmy clawed at her neck, searching for the relic’s
chain, the one Jack made for her—
Something sharp slashed at Emmy, cutting her across the jaw. She rolled away before lunging for the relic again, but Grace
grabbed a stick, transforming it into a crude-looking sword.
They both stilled.
“My word,” Grace breathed. Examining her clawed hand, she grinned. “I don’t even need to touch you to bridge your conjury.
Evidence that my gift trumps yours.”
Grace lifted her palm, and Emmy felt the icy caress of bridging conjury on her face. She tried to turn away, but it was useless.
Tried to gather the brume, but it hardly rustled in response.
That otherworldly chill rattled her teeth, but Emmy pushed herself to her feet, her limbs aflame. Still, a frigid cold prickled
over her face.
“Much better.” Grace grinned. “Now you look like yourself.”
The gash on Emmy’s face stung as she stared at Grace, who was using Emmy’s conjury. And Emmy’s relic. And she’d already taken Emmy’s patronage, and her freedom, and everything good she’d had in the
world.
With a wild yell, Emmy lunged for her again.
“Help!” Grace screamed as Emmy dragged her to the ground. “She’s attacking me!”
Emmy had always been scrappier than Grace, and she pinned her with a frightening fury. But Grace wriggled an arm free and
swung the stick-sword wildly, all the while screaming as Emmy yanked at her skirts, sending jewelry raining down from Grace’s
secret pockets.
A guard burst into the clearing, palm raised, and Emmy was tossed from Grace. As the guard’s face creased in concentration,
Emmy struggled to her knees, but another burst of wind knocked her back to the dirt.
“Got her!” the guard called, but still, Emmy struggled against the crushing wind. They’d take her back to Grimsbane—but she
would not go back, she could never go back. Flattened against the ground, she searched the dirt for something, anything she
could use as a weapon.
Something cold dug into her palm, and she disappeared.
The wind ceased. “Where did she go?”
Too stunned to move, Emmy focused on the frigid metal in her palm. One of Grace’s invisibility rings.
“She’s still here!” Grace shrieked. “Find her!”
Painstakingly slowly, Emmy slid the ring onto her finger and pushed to her feet, careful not to shift the dead leaves beneath
her. Grace was swinging the sword with reckless abandon, but if Emmy timed it just right, the relic—
“Shield your eyes,” the guard commanded.
Dirt rose from the ground, and the wind picked up, scattering it in Emmy’s eyes, her nostrils, everywhere.
“There! I see her!”
Emmy took off between the trees. Her ballroom slippers were no match for the guards’ boots, but without the relic, Emmy could
not transform better shoes for herself. She couldn’t outrun them, but she didn’t slow down, not even when her lungs were ready
to burst. Only when she was certain she’d collapse did she pin herself against a tree trunk and try to make herself as small
as possible, squeezing her eyes shut as the guards ran past, unseeing. Without the relic, she was utterly defenseless.
Without the relic, Jack could not burn his way out of Grimsbane. He was trapped. Jimmy too.
And Emmy, once again, had trusted the wrong person.