Chapter Thirty
I was wrong when I thought the ruins of Fairfax Manor held my worst nightmares. This dinner was another one. There was no William and no Alma to reassure me.
Emrys was across from me, but it felt like a world away. Especially when his mask of indifference had slipped into place, a tightness to his lips that told me he’d rather be anywhere else but here. My finger ran over small holes in the discolured white tablecloth as the candlelight cut through the chipped crystal glasses.
I’d put us in this situation, and I was still struggling to see how we were going to get out of it.
Emrys’s familiarity with the people at this table was another concern. Despite his reclusive lifestyle, I’d forgotten his position before the wars. I suppose I’d convinced myself it didn’t matter. I’d learnt long ago there was a duality to this world.
Good people did bad things for better outcomes, but would I be so forgiving if it wasn’t Emrys?
‘How delighted we are to have your company for a whole evening, Lord Blackthorn.’ One of the older ladies seated close to Emrys grinned. With her modest red ballgown, with ears adorned with fey sapphires from the eastlands and over-powdered grey hair. ‘What blessed creatures we must be.’
The table began to laugh, an air of amusement I found sinister.
‘How blessed indeed.’ Smiled Lady Lovell, who was sat next to Emrys, leaning forward to take his arm with familiarity.
I kept my expression blank, conscious of Thean’s amusement from a few places away, as they sipped another wine and reclined impolitely – ignoring the old man next to them.
I let my gaze fall on my silverware as the soup was served, only to instantly regret that decision. The silver was intricately decorated, but the handles were bright white, glistening like stone, but I could see the different hues. They were made from bone. Valeks were the only creatures whose skeletons were stained by their magic. The fracture marks through the bone like expensive marble, adding to their sacred nature, and here they were using them as decoration.
Repulsion rolled through me as I glanced next to me to see the mortal man in that seat had a normal set of cutlery, and so did the one the other side. It was a game, and I’d been foolish enough not to anticipate it.
Making me eat with the bones of monsters they deemed me no better than.
Torments from Daunton came back to me vividly. How my food would burn my tongue with excess salt, my cutlery blunted to make me seem like an animal. So thirsty I’d have no choice but to drink the sour water they gave me.
Little troll – the words echoed through my mind, trying to force me to remember what I’d seen in those ruins. I shut my eyes and pulled in the deepest breath my corset would allow. Yet, when I opened them, my silverware was plain, undescriptive and I was certain I’d used it in Emrys’s kitchen.
I glanced up to see him watching me, an intensity to his gaze. As if silently trying to convey something with the darkness of its anger. As if he hated this as much as I did.
‘It’s wonderful to have such a dear friend of my Robert back in our company.’ Lord Fairfax’s words pierced the moment, turning us both to see the old man smiling, his eyes teary with his words. ‘You’ve been away too long, dear boy.’
I felt that sadness like a physical thing, clogging the air. The poor man couldn’t let go and I wondered if the truth of it might make his grief better.
I killed him. Emrys’s admission cut through me. The coldness of how he’d said it. The lack of choice in those words.
‘You’re just in time to give us some gossip about the Southwest Territory conflict,’ Canthorp boomed, nudging the pale thin man next to him, who spilled his wine as a result.
‘My time on territorial disputes has long passed,’ Emrys replied formally. The brutality of his scars seemed starker under the candlelight, the sadness in his profile. To exist different to the rest of this world.
‘What a marvel Miss Woodrow must be to have gained such a partnership,’ Lord Percy joined in, turning the table’s attention in my direction. ‘I heard you turned down the Marquess d’Alene’s heir for her, Blackthorn.’
‘The Marquess d’Alene?’ one of the women gasped. ‘Saints above, perhaps you are mad after all, Lord Blackthorn.’
‘There is more to a partnership than a title, Lord Percy,’ Emrys replied, his smile tight, which sent the ladies into disarray.
‘Well, Miss Woodrow, don’t you have some wonderful gossip for us all?’ Lord Canthorp pressed, turning everyone’s eyes to me, and silencing the surrounding conversations.
‘Unfortunately, the lord is almost as secretive in his own home as he is here.’ I smiled politely, trying to make myself seem as small as possible.
‘How well trained she is.’ Lady Lovell chuckled, making me bristle. My magic coiling deep in my gut, willing me to strike.
Thean let out a devious laugh, arms folded with an amused smirk on those lips, waiting for me to break. Emrys had gone very still, that dark gaze focused on my own.
‘Where did you receive your start in education, Miss Woodrow?’ Lord Fairfax asked, with genuine interest. The madness of his grief making him blind to the tension rippling about the table. ‘It must have been tremendous to have gotten you so far?’
‘I was taught by my mother in the northlands.’ I kept my tone polite, not allowing my grief to slip into the words. It belonged to me, not them.
‘Unusual,’ Lord Percy commented. ‘Kysillians aren’t renowned for their literacy, are they? More their … brutality.’
The candlelight flickered harshly. That cold bite of Emrys’s magic seeming to brush across my exposed collarbone as if it could shield me from the slight.
‘My mother was mortal,’ I corrected, not missing the shocked glances that were now focused solely on my face, trying to see it. The disgust and pursed lips at how one of their own had debased themselves.
‘Abandoned after the rutting, I assume,’ Lord Percy continued without pause.
A shocked gasp came from my right, along with a clatter of cutlery. The table creaked slightly and the cold, tumultuous nature of Emrys’s power made the man next to me shiver.
Only I didn’t need Emrys to defend me from this weasel.
‘My parents were sworn to each other. My father was with us until the wars.’ I kept my voice bored, expression disinterested. ‘I don’t believe Lord Blackthorn mentioned serving with you , Lord Percy?’
The lord jolted at that, cheeks flushing to match his ruddy nose at the silence that claimed the table at my response.
‘Unfortunately, my nephew didn’t pass the … requirements ,’ Lord Fairfax added, an edge of distaste touching his words, but I heard everything they didn’t say.
‘Unfortunate indeed,’ I mused coldly, taking a deep drink of my wine.
‘From Miss Woodrow’s records, she studied at Daunton until she was selected for the Institute, Uncle,’ Lord Percy added through his teeth, his grip on his spoon white knuckled.
‘Daunton?’ Canthorp asked.
My heart began to beat erratically within my chest. Breaths became more difficult to draw between my lips that had nothing to do with Alma’s ruthless corset lacing.
‘How terrible what happened there.’ Lady Lovell sighed, reaching for her glass of watered-down wine to soften her distress.
‘What happened?’ Mr Canthorp asked, and the question felt like a physical blow against my skin.
You killed him , that voice whispered in the back of my mind, taunting me with its cruelty. My magic flared in response to the memory, in recognition of that pain.
‘A terrible fire killed him, burned half the house to the ground,’ Lovell continued . Of course that would be the answer she gave. Nothing about the fey children who had died there. ‘How dreadful for such a man who dedicated his life to helping those creatures, to suffer so.’
‘I heard there were bodies beneath the floors,’ another man at the table said, seeming intrigued, which did little to quell my nausea.
Don’t let them take me , came a young Alma’s whispered plea in my ear, desperate as she held onto me. Willing herself to live. The creak of those wheelbarrows as they took more bodies into the wood. The horrid echo of screams and the choking potency of saints’ smoke.
The wishing stone fluttered against my breastbone as if in comfort. Almost making me reach for it.
‘Penance comes in many strange forms,’ Emrys commented sinisterly, a sharpness to his gaze as he looked at me, somehow sensing my distress.
‘How could such a holy man have anything to do with that? What scandalous rebellious rumours you believe.’ Lovell laughed, fluttering her lashes and leaning towards him.
‘Some say the most wicked of us hide in plain sight,’ Emrys reasoned, the sharpness of his gaze meeting my own. I felt reassured by it, but he didn’t know how true his words were, that I was just as wicked as them.
The power of a Kysillian wasn’t just their ability to harness destructive magic, but to possess such a power and not use it in moment of weakness. My father had told me that, and right now I wished he hadn’t. Setting the table alight seemed like a wonderful way to end the horrid affair.
‘On to more pleasant topics, please,’ one of the women declared as the next course came, and I made a point to finish every glass of wine I was given before they added water to it.
However, despite the edge the sour wine had taken off the evening, the table clearly wasn’t finished with my discomfort.
‘Did you hear of another rebellion attack in the west at the ports?’ One of the guests tutted.
‘They just need to concede and accept it’s better for them,’ Lady Lovell drawled, her nails clinking against her glass as she took another demure sip, eyes slipping back in Emrys’s direction. ‘Thank the saints you’ve been saved from such impropriety, Miss Woodrow.’
‘Indeed, what sent you on the path of your discipline?’ Lord Fairfax asked. ‘My Robert was fascinated by the old tales. He loved the Kysillian ones most of all.’
‘The Kysillian is one of the peace children of Master Hale’s vision,’ Lord Percy interjected, answering for me.
‘That old bat.’ Lord Canthorp laughed, much to the amusement of his companion. A small unimpressive brown-haired man called Mr Branner.
‘Strange you should choose the occult, Miss Woodrow,’ Lord Percy continued, his sharp gaze meeting my own across the table. ‘Surely a woman seeking to find her way in that world can find a more … advantageous position?’
I didn’t even want to imagine what positions he was thinking of.
‘There is much we still don’t know,’ I smiled politely, resisting the urge to bare my teeth at the swine.
‘Magic is boorish and too aggressive for female sensibilities. We’re too emotional for it,’ Lady Lovell reasoned, her tone sparking a rise in false laughter that irritated me more than normal stupidity.
‘There is much left to understand. Especially in the northlands. Who knows what the fey are hiding over there?’ Canthorp mused.
‘We won the war, what else is there to know?’ Lovell tilted her head demurely to the side, the light catching on the stone around her neck. I knew what it was the moment I saw her. Another trophy, only she was too unintelligent to understand.
We won the war. Her stupid words seared through me. At the cost of fey blood. Their freedom . Rage burned in my gut more viciously than any magic I could summon.
Demure. Quiet. Still. Master Hale’s favourite command came back to me.
Sod that.
‘What a lovely stone, Lady Lovell.’ I smiled, leaning forward to gesture to the gleaming red gem around the lady’s throat. The ridiculousness of it.
‘An admirer gifted it to me.’ She ran her gloved fingertips over it, tilting her head to tease the other guests.
Something burned in me I had never experienced, watching her gaze try to catch Emrys’s attention. He was watching me, so intently, almost trying to communicate something with a single look. Maybe sensing I’d lost complete control of my senses.
‘I haven’t seen a Malac stone before,’ I spoke clearly, catching the table’s attention. ‘Only heard stories.’
‘A Malac stone?’ Lord Canthorp asked, eyes alight with fascination. ‘What does that mean?’
‘The Malac were great warriors of ancient magic. They commanded beasts who breathed fire more vibrant than the sun. They believed the stone held the same power as that fire.’
‘A wonderful gift.’ One of the ladies grinned in encouragement to Lady Lovell, while sending a sour glance my way.
‘The leaders would wear it around their penis in celebration of a great victory,’ I finished, watching the colour drain from Lady Lovell’s features.
Someone dropped their cutlery, a glass smashed, and there was a dramatic wail from the end of the table as Thean almost choked on their wine.
‘H-how … fascinating.’ Lord Fairfax laughed. ‘Miss Woodrow, you should do an inventory for me. I’d hate to cause such offence.’
The rest of the table awkwardly joined in with his mirth after a pause, and thankfully, they brought another course out in that moment.
I expected to feel the heat of Emrys’s gaze, and his impatience to chastise me. Instead, every time I glimpsed him, someone was trying to get his attention, but he was grinning at his dinner, endlessly amused.