Chapter Twenty-Nine
You are a beauty without end, a fire that cannot be smothered by something as fickle as men .
My mother would say those words as she tucked my hair behind my ears. Over and over, as if forging a blade. Building something within me, knowing perhaps I’d need those words when she couldn’t give them to me anymore.
I needed them tonight as my heavy hair, which refused to do anything but curl in unruly waves, was braided and pinned delicately. Dried flowers were woven into the hair at the side of my head. William was beyond excited to have something to do with his stash of preserved wildflowers.
Tiredness draped over my shoulder like a heavy cape, my hands still trembling despite how I balled them into fists.
I’d dealt with the Council lords before, but there was something different about being trapped in a house with them. A house surrounded by such horrid things.
My hands ran anxiously over the thick, lavender fabric of my dress. Thanks to Alma’s new impressive skill of manipulating fabrics that William had supplied, I was in a stunning dress. However, the colour would make my eyes stand out, and that was the last thing I needed at a lords’ dinner.
‘It’s so beautiful !’ Alma clasped her hands together in excitement as she made me turn before the mirror.
‘It’s too tight.’ I struggled to pull in a deep breath. My waist was much smaller than I remembered and my breasts suspiciously fuller as they almost spilled over the top of the bodice.
‘It’s supposed to be tight.’ She slapped my hands away as I tried to tug the bodice up before she began to mess with the underskirts.
‘Are you sure this is appropriate?’ I asked, the chill of the room seemed to nip at the top of my exposed breasts.
‘You know they have different rules for ladies at dinner,’ came her muffled reply from under a ridiculous number of petticoats.
‘The point is to fit in,’ I countered. A nice dark blue or grey would have sufficed. Formal and plain.
‘It hasn’t happened yet.’ She reemerged, grabbing my shoulders to turn me towards the large mirror she’d somehow dragged through the wardrobe with her.
The dress was wrapped beautifully around my fuller frame, the neckline just resting off my shoulders but covering enough of my back. It was trimmed with delicate lace, not garish at all. Simple and softly beautiful – almost fooling me into thinking I couldn’t possibly be the murderous, monstrous being I was.
Silver flowers were embroidered around the bodice and the tiny sleeves, curving around my waist and down the skirts. My gloved fingers traced the shape of the flowers before I really looked at myself.
Then came the pain. How for a moment I saw my mother looking back at me. My Kysillian features made it hard to see her sometimes, my lavender eyes and strange golden skin taking over everything else. Yet, with my unruly brown hair like this, a softness had come over me, my harsh fear of the world fading away so I could see her.
How her beautiful chestnut hair gleamed, the sharp wit in her eyes, the same freckles across her nose and the humorous nature to her smile. Despite all she’d endured, she didn’t wear it like I did.
Lanthor . Echoed in my mind, a word she had whispered on her deathbed as I held onto her. Forgive them in Kysillian. Her last request as she lay dying in my arms. Her punishment for daring to love my father being death.
Yet she still wanted me to forgive this world for its cruelty. The sadness of that grief consumed me viciously, gnawing at my very bones. A hollow ache taking up place in my chest, a longing for her that had never gone away.
‘Kat?’ Alma took my arm gently, worry in her expression.
‘I don’t want to go down there,’ I admitted, giving her part of the truth. She didn’t need to be burdened with my fears.
‘Emrys will be there.’ She took hold of my hand. Things really must be bad if Alma was putting her faith in Emrys.
He hadn’t sent any word about how the ruins had gone. Maybe he was already a dark fiend’s food by now, or whatever foulness lurked in those ruins.
Troll. That voice echoed through my mind, mocking me with the painful reminder of how far it had driven me to madness mere hours ago.
A knock came at the door, stopping any further wallowing.
‘It’ll be all right. I’ll be here when you get back.’ She squeezed my fingers in reassurance before rushing to the wardrobe. I waited for the doors to shut tightly before I opened the bedroom one, finding a male servant with a sour expression.
‘I’ve been sent to escort you, Miss.’ He bowed, stepped back, and walked down the hall before I was even ready.
I doubted he cared for my thanks as I shut my door and hurried after him, trying my best to keep my skirt pleats straight for Alma’s sake.
The way to the ballroom was nothing but a maze of warped hallways. Lamps flickered weakly against the walls, black smears where the smoke had stained the peeling wallpaper. The stench of old oil mixed with stale potpourri made my stomach churn.
The grand portraits seemed to sag on the walls, dust gathered in their corners and cobwebs strung above them on the mould-speckled ceiling. The garish dark wallpaper made my eyes hurt; the more I looked at the pattern, the more I saw things looking back at me.
The servant led me right to the grand glass doors of a ballroom. The echo of forced laughter, dull conversation and low music only solidified my dread.
The lamps were brighter inside, warm against the floral wallpaper. The gold decorations were dulled with time, just as the marble floor was covered in scratches and stains from overuse. Women in brightly coloured gowns flitted between the men, who stood tall in dark evening attire. The heavy stench of perfume and cologne only intensified my disgust.
The servant left me standing there in the shadows, as I tried to build up the courage to go inside.
‘Miss Woodrow,’ came the sharp voice over my shoulder. Dread sinking further into my gut as I turned to see the form of Lord Percy, wearing an ill-fitting dark dinner jacket, a scowl on his liquor-rosy face.
‘Lord Percy.’ I bowed, tucking my balled fists behind my back.
‘I was seeking your master.’ He glowered down at my breasts with disdain as if they’d personally offended him.
‘Then it’s no wonder you’ve struggled to find something I don’t possess.’ I smiled tightly, refusing to play his vulgar game.
‘You can remind him he’s here for no other purpose than a mad old man’s grief.’ He half spat the words under his breath, a hideous wash of sour drink reaching my nose.
‘The ruins stand as testament that that’s not entirely true,’ I pointed out carefully.
‘More fey seeking revenge,’ he snapped, his lip curling and an unfocused nature to his eyes.
‘Lord Percy, you should wait for a dance to stare so intently at a lady,’ came the cheery voice of Thean Page. I turned, stunned to see the voyav dressed in a pristine grey velvet suit, heavy black beading at the collar and cuffs. A glass of wine in their hand and their hair was brushed back harshly, fangs on display.
However, there was a slight distortion from the glamour they’d wrapped around themself to fool a mortal eye.
‘Master Gladstone.’ Lord Percy bowed sharply with annoyance. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’
Lord Percy thankfully left us as quickly as he appeared. Suddenly tight lipped like the coward I suspected him of being.
‘Who does he think you are?’ I asked, watching Thean’s predatory amber eyes track the lord’s retreat into the ballroom.
‘The architect to repair the house.’ They smiled sharply, offering me their arm.
‘Do you know anything about architecture?’ I frowned, letting them guide me into the ballroom. It probably wasn’t wise, but I fancied my chances better with the mysterious voyav than a priggish lord. I had no reason to maim Thean. At least not yet.
‘Enough to fool a fool.’ They winked, and if I wasn’t so cautious and annoyed by their presence, I could have considered them to be a handsome being. Although clearly not scarred, brooding and secretive enough for my current foolish tastes.
‘He’ll notice when you haven’t repaired his house,’ I pointed out.
‘Will he?’ There was a sharp seductive nature to their answering smile that I could see working on someone more reserved than myself.
I turned my attention to the room, regretting it immediately. The ladies fluttered feather fans, intensifying the thickness of perfume in the air. Bosoms were powdered and jewels reflected the lamplight to throw shapes about the room.
Crowds of people occupied the hall, none of whom had noticed I’d arrived. I looked for Emrys, and finally saw him Finding him standing in the centre of the crowd, at ease and in deep conversation, a glass of wine in his hand. Not a strand of his raven hair was out of place. His dark suit, embroidered with silver, was in fashion and tailored perfectly to his imposing physique. He looked like a beautiful holy demon, the type the saints spoke about, who lurked in murky woods to persuade maidens to raise darkness from the earth with their blood.
Only, I preferred him the way he normally was, disheveled and trying to make sense of madness. This version only reminded me of the different worlds we came from and just how comfortably he had settled back into his own.
A young woman stood close at his side, rosy cheeked with blonde curls elaborately arranged. Her ruffled pink dress was decorated with jewels and bows, and she hung off his every word. Soft and demure.
‘What did you discover?’ I swallowed painfully, shifting my attention back to Thean, ignoring the sinking feeling in the centre of my chest at the sight of Emrys with that woman.
‘You’re supposed to start conversation a little slower than that, darling,’ they teased, stepping closer with a mocking lift to their eyebrow.
‘Who is that woman?’ I asked before I even knew I wanted an answer.
‘Lady Constance Lovell,’ Thean replied conversationally, clearly caring more for gossip than Emrys’s privacy. ‘There were rumours of an engagement brewing between them, but she found a new suitor while Emrys was serving in the wars. Her husband developed a wasting disease and it’s said she’s looking to improve her circumstances, now her mourning period is over.’
I pushed down the strange, horrid pang in my chest, reminding myself Emrys had a life before I stumbled across his path. ‘You mean now her wealth has run out.’
‘Women have to make different bargains to men,’ Thean countered, a strange sympathy in the words I couldn’t argue with.
‘Some do it far too comfortably,’ I hated the thought instantly, it felt like a betrayal to myself and everything I thought I believed in. My anger was childish and beneath me, but I couldn’t help myself.
‘That’s pretty.’ I felt the voyav’s finger slide along the collar of my dress, catching the chain of the wishing stone hidden deep in my corset.
I slapped their hand away, or attempted to. They pulled it back faster than I anticipated. ‘Keep your hands to yourself.’
‘You know you shouldn’t take gifts from dark beings,’ they taunted darkly.
‘At this point I’ll take all the protection I can get,’ I countered sharply, watching their grin turn wicked. Impressed. ‘What happened at the ruins?’
Thean rocked back on their heels, waving a servant over to present them with a glass of wine. ‘Don’t remind me, my ears are still ringing from the lecture.’
‘Did you find the creature?’
They shook their head, unimpressed with their new wine, as the servant hurried away. ‘No, Emrys said something about needing a powerful cleansing charm. I became bored and stopped listening.’
I frowned. ‘There was something there.’ I knew there was. ‘It vanished as quickly as it came. When Emrys arrived, it was gone.’
‘Of course. It probably didn’t like the competition.’ The voyav smirked.
‘Why would a lord have such a creature dwelling on his lands?’ One that old and made of fear.
‘You expect me to tell the truth?’ They considered me carefully, amber eyes sharp.
‘You’re quite happy to let a grief-stricken old man’s house fall down around him, so you clearly have no love for the lords here. Therefore, I don’t see the harm in you giving the answer to me,’ I countered.
‘Clever girl,’ they half purred. ‘Creatures with that much power are born, not cast. Which means somebody has been performing very naughty spells.’
‘For what purpose?’ I didn’t know spells powerful enough to awaken such a darkness. Nobody’s greed could be that vile, could it?
‘The desperate only need a meagre one,’ Thean replied dryly, just as a man and his wife passed in their finery, nodding to the voyav in greeting. Obviously seeing whatever they were projecting for them to see.
It reminded me that everything in this world held a hint of a lie, a trick and a game. Everything was struggling to survive, and some did it more wickedly than others.
‘Do you think this house is strange?’ I asked as another wave of unease came over me, causing me to look behind me. Yet, I found nothing there.
‘Everything about mortals is strange,’ Thean said. ‘However, I will say just how stunning you look, Kat.’ They smiled, wicked fangs visible as that dark auburn hair curled onto their brow, amber eyes glinting with mischief. ‘When you don’t frown so much, you’re quite beautiful.’
‘If you’re trying to seduce me, you’re terrible at it,’ I replied dryly.
They chuckled softly, tracing the summoning mark inked on the side of their neck, deep in thought. ‘Darling, you’re not my type.’
‘In full possession of my senses?’
‘ Tall ,’ they replied wryly, and perhaps it was the humour of the response, or the impending sense of doom, but I laughed, startling both Thean and myself.
‘I was being serious.’ They sounded affronted. ‘Now, your little maid on the other hand …’
‘She’s not my maid,’ I countered. Shame washed over me that anyone ever had cause to think that Alma was.
‘You seem to have found unpleasant company, Miss Woodrow.’ The dark drawl of Emrys’s voice brushed my ear as he came to my side. His handsome face was one of indifference as he took in Thean.
‘Charming, my lord.’ Thean winked.
With Emrys so close, all I could remember was our proximity in the study. The warm solid nature of him. The feel of his cheek beneath my lips. The drag of his rough, callous hands down my throat.
‘D-did you discover anything from the guests?’ I flushed at my own traitorous thoughts.
Emrys’s attention dropped to me, lingering at the side of my head where Alma had arranged the flowers behind my ear, before he finally met my eyes.
‘Nothing. Everyone appears aggressively tight lipped.’ He reached out to take two glasses from one of the passing servants, handing one to me.
‘I’m sure they’re loose skirted enough,’ Thean commented, almost making me choke on the sip I’d taken. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m too sober for my liking.’
Emrys watched the voyav go, a tension in his limbs that gave me a warning without words. Whatever Thean’s game was, it was dangerous, and yet, I was kept at arm’s length about just how bad that danger could be.
‘I see you survived.’ The words left my lips before I could fully consider what I was saying. ‘Maybe I should have taken your advice and remained abed. If you’ve brought me here to help you shop for a wife, I’ll happily march myself back to the Institute.’
Emrys’s irritated gaze swung back to me; brow furrowed. Probably wondering if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.
‘That would have been preferable considering every man in this ballroom is giving me nothing and only interested in debaucherous arrangements,’ he muttered, taking a deep drink of his wine.
‘With who m?’ I frowned, looking to find Thean, wondering what the voyav had been up to.
‘You.’
‘Me? Don’t be absurd.’ I rolled my eyes with a breathless laugh. ‘They’ve said nothing? Not even about the bodies? The upper classes usually love gossip.’
He gave me a frustrated glance, his eyes seeming to get even darker as he ignored my question, looking at my skirts with suspicion before taking another deep drink from his glass. ‘Where did you get that dress?’
‘William gave it to Alma.’ I huffed in exasperation, wondering if something had happened to his memory and just how long he’d been drinking.
‘Remind me to have a word with him,’ he grumbled murderously.
‘What?’ I frowned. ‘Alma spruced it up. I think she did a wonderful job.’
He continued to consider me uneasily, eyes moving to where the sleeves rested at my bare shoulder drifting to my collarbone, tracing the thin chain of the wishing stone, before returning his gaze to the room. The tension in him made me wonder if he’d lost his mind too.
‘Lord Blackthorn, how wonderful you’re here,’ a male voice announced as we found ourselves joined by a young man, short and large with circular glasses perched on the end of his nose and stark blond hair. ‘I thought it would take a miracle to get you out into society again.’
It was unclear if his mirth was genuine or from the wine.
‘Mr Canthorp.’ Emrys bowed. ‘May I introduce my partner mage, Miss Woodrow.’
‘What a lovely companion. No wonder you’re monopolising her attention, Lord Blackthorn.’ He grinned.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Mr Canthorp.’ I bowed respectfully, but he already had his hand out, forcing me to surrender my own.
‘The pleasure is all mine.’ He smiled, kissing the back of my hand. His lips were repulsively wet even with my gloves on; there to cover up the horrid welts on my wrists. Thankfully, his grip was loose enough for me to pull myself free, his lips puckering slightly in disappointment as he straightened, returning his attention to Emrys.
‘Lord Fairfax said you found the man’s body in the wood by the old ruins,’ Canthorp stated, more of an accusation than a question. ‘Unsecure ground, one wrong step and it would be a long way down. Nobody really knows how far those ruins have sunk.’
I went still at his words. Emrys hadn’t said the victim was a man, or where I had found him, at least not in my company. So why would Canthorp assume it was the ruins?
‘Perhaps, but its best to be cautious in such turbulent times.’ Emrys’ smile was tight, too tight.
‘What are you talking about so excitedly, Mr Canthorp?’ came the high-pitched voice of the woman Emrys had been talking to. Lady Lovell. Her arm was looped through that of a very annoyed-looking Lord Percy.
‘The discovery in the ruins, Lady Lovell.’ Canthorp bowed respectfully.
‘How dreadful.’ She practically swooned before her eyes reluctantly moved to me. She considered me like some horrid inconvenience, smile faltering as she noted where Emrys’s arm brushed against my own with his proximity.
‘Of course, the quieter we can keep the tragedy, the better. We know how feral the fey can be, don’t you agree, Miss Woodrow?’ Canthorp continued with a laugh.
‘Miss Woodrow discovered the corpse after trespassing on these lands,’ Lord Percy interjected before I could speak, making Mr Canthorp choke on his mirth. ‘Quite scandalous.’
‘Fey lands,’ I corrected. A silence followed the words as I felt the intensity of Lord Percy’s gaze come back to me.
‘Excuse me?’ he bit out, tone barely remaining polite.
‘The original lands of Fairfax surround the ruins. Any lord who abandons his ancestral home for longer than a century surrenders that land back to the fey who had once inhabited it. It’s written in clause thirty-four of the King’s Agreement. Or in section four of the Peace Agreement.’ I smiled, surge of Emrys’s magic brushed my side. An intensity to it that had nothing to do with warning.
Canthorp’s mouth fell open, Lovell looked stunned and Lord Percy considered me as nothing more than an insect beneath his boot.
‘I assumed that was why you stopped providing provisions for Paxton Fields? With the moving of the borderlands?’ I pushed further than I knew was smart, just enjoying his eyes narrowing.
‘I see everyone had the same idea,’ Lord Fairfax announced, breaking the tension as he approached slowly, his leg seeming to pain him as he joined our gathering. ‘You’ve fallen right back into step with society, Lord Blackthorn. We feared we’d lost you to your investigations forever.’
‘It must be exhausting chasing the same ghosts and finding nothing,’ Lord Percy drawled, anger still simmering in his gaze.
‘You should be chasing women, not ghosts. I’m sure the ladies have missed a bachelor as strapping as yourself, Blackthorn.’ Canthorp laughed, his nervous gaze flicking in my direction.
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Thankfully a servant stepped forward to disrupt the odious conversation.
‘My lord,’ he said, dropping into an overly low bow, holding out a letter. ‘A message for you.’
The deep burgundy letter caught my eye, the wax seal holding a golden hue. The same that Emrys had received that first day when he’d shown me the study.
I wanted to catch Emrys’s reaction, but something passed over Lord Percy’s expression that stopped me as he reached out to take it from the servant, quickly stuffing it into his pocket as Canthorp continued to witter, drawing most of the gathering’s attention to him, even the horrid Lord Percy’s.
‘Don’t stare too hard, they’ll know you know something,’ came a whisper to my ear. It was Thean at my other side, smiling around the rim of another glass of wine.
Suspicious that they knew what was going on and who the letter was from, I turned to give them my full attention.
‘I thought you were looking for a drink?’ I asked under my breath.
‘I got distracted.’ They shrugged, ‘besides, it appears you’re the entertainment.’
There was a sharpness to their gaze as it focused on something beyond me. I turned to see Emrys watching us both, his expression guarded, and I had a strange feeling I was in the centre of a very different game. Emrys’s energy brushing my skin like tendrils of icy smoke with his annoyance, as if I’d caused some great disturbance within him.
Thankfully, a bell rang, and a servant announced that dinner was served.
‘Come, Miss Woodrow.’ Thean held out their arm, proclaiming too loudly for me to refuse as I slipped my own into theirs. Their head ducked ever so slightly to whisper in my ear. ‘Let us see how monsters entertain themselves.’