Chapter Thirty-Four
A storm arrived late afternoon that forced the hunting party back to the house. Lord Fairfax – in a joyous mood – had started the evening entertainment early, drinks poured, the band was filling the dilapidated ballroom with music, the guest’s laughter excruciatingly loud.
After the drama of yesterday, everyone was quick to pretend I didn’t exist and I noticed noticed most of the ladies had refrained from wearing jewellery.
I’d kept myself aloof, especially when Emrys had appeared. Mainly so I didn’t think about what had happened in the study. Madness indeed.
I touched the flowers Alma had woven into the braid at the back of my hair, trying to give my scalp some reprieve as I looked down at my beautiful deep-indigo dress, feeling sad it had been so wasted with how eager I was to drop it onto my bedroom floor, sink between the sheets and forget about another horrid day.
I let my eyes drift over the bland landscape paintings on the walls of the ballroom more interested in how the dust collected in the corners of the frames. Small mortal pieces, colours muted and grey. Letting my fingers drag across the peeling picture rail, as I moved to one of the large alcoves with a few measly books on the shelves.
My boredom was replaced with a horrid stinging cold at what stood before me. A collection of display frames. Pinned there by their small beetle wings, dull and dusty with decay, was a small display of folk. Their tiny acorn heads and moss bodies trapped inside the frames.
Something hurt so deep inside me, buried in the marrow of my bones. How something so innocent and free of malice could be hurt so viciously. How endlessly cruel this world could be to creatures that were filled with nothing but innocence and hope.
Please , a younger voice pleaded in my memory so desperately. My own.
As I looked at those little creatures, all I saw was Alma’s small pale bruised hand reaching for me across filthy stone. The creaking wood of those wheelbarrows as they took more small bodies into the wood outside Daunton. The reek of damp soil and decay. Only to be chased away by the finality of flame and smoke I could still taste on my tongue.
Haunted by how I could save none of them.
I was too late once again. So slowly I rested my finger against the dusty glass, taking in every sharp bite of the little things’ pain.
‘ Marov ,’ I whispered. Rest now in the old tongue. The last blessing as the smallest lick of flame from my finger turned the remains to ash that glistened as if made of glass at the bottom of the frame.
Free.
‘Strange little things, aren’t they?’ The brittle voice of Lord Fairfax came from behind me as I let my hand fall to my side, forcing my anger down to sour in my gut along with the cheap wine.
‘They were,’ was all I could let out, anger darkening my voice.
‘My grandfather’s collection,’ the old lord mused softly. ‘He was fascinated by the wildness of the world. Too cruel and short of temper to read about it or study for the answers he wanted.’
A small glimmer of hope rested in those words. Of regret.
Lanthor . Forgive them. My mother’s words came back to me. Guiding me even now.
‘I should have let them go, but Robert used to care for them. They were why he wished to be a mage, why he wanted to study the folk in the north.’ His words broke apart with the depths of that grief. ‘He was bright, like you. Clever.’
Something unsettled me with those words. How easily he compared us, like we could ever be equal. A mortal lord and a Kysillian. Too much distance between us, a gaping wound that couldn’t be filled, and my mind instantly started thinking of Emrys.
‘I’m sorry you lost him.’ I was, because despite all this death and cruelty, I was too familiar with grief to sneer at it in others.
‘He’s come back to me.’ Fairfax smiled softly, as if it was just our secret. ‘Like in the tales of those bone collectors and their many spells.’
Necromancers and wraiths. Dark things that deserved to be forgotten, to be lost to dust and myth.
Maybe he was as mad as Emrys suspected.
‘There are some old books I thought you might enjoy, they were Robert’s,’ he continued, extending his hand to lead the way. It was then I could see his shirt was on inside out, his dinner jacket worn thin at the shoulders. A jam stain on the lapel. ‘They’re in the back library.’
As I watched the lord, the strangeness of his movements, battered by his grief and the weight of his words, I understood. There was a different way to trap creatures and pin them in place, and Lord Percy was doing a perfect job.
That stone against my breastbone flickered in small warning, but all it did was remind me of all that had come before. That pit and the body. Mr Catron had been here.
‘Lord Fairfax …’ I asked carefully, keeping my voice light. ‘Do you remember a gentleman by the name of Mr Peter Catron?’
His brow furrowed deeply, his thin fingers coming up to rub his temple, like the motion could bring the memory to the forefront of his mind.
‘I don’t want to trouble you with it,’ I pressed quietly, unsettled by his distress as I reached out to touch his arm. That stone around my neck burned sharply with warning.
‘No I …’ His gaze went distant for a moment before he turned those old eyes to my face. ‘I believe … a threll gentleman did come by the house.’
I moved closer, desperate to coax more from him.
‘Something to do with land disputes.’ He shook his head, his laugh soft. ‘I believe Richard spoke to him.’
‘Richard?’ I asked uneasily, that sinking feeling consuming my chest. His dead son.
‘Yes, they were talking about—’
‘Uncle,’ Lord Percy interrupted sharply, drawing us apart to see his dour expression. ‘The Mattersons wish to see you.’
Fairfax pulled back, a small laugh slipping through his thin lips with surprise. ‘When did they get here?’
‘Last week,’ Lord Percy answered coldly, not really paying attention as the old man glanced about the room before limping off, leaving me with his horrid nephew.
‘You made quite an impression during your time here.’ Lord Percy shifted his weight uncomfortably.
‘That was a curt interruption, Lord Percy.’ I smiled tightly, tone sharp with accusation. ‘I hope Lord Fairfax wasn’t about to say too much.’
‘Mr Matterson had some interesting theories on the ruins you trespassed into,’ he half sneered, clearly not able to restrain his temper. ‘Apparently the stone of them is supposed to weaken fey magic.’
My heart sank to the stained marble floor between us.
There was a feral glee in his bloodshot eyes. ‘Yet you managed to make quite a mess.’
My heart then began to pound wildly at the words, but I kept my features blank, forcing myself into the same defensive boredom that had saved me from the Council’s accusations.
‘You know an awful lot about restricting fey magic, Lord Percy,’ I countered politely. ‘Is it a subject of interest for you?’
He stiffened at that, so tense I could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.
‘You should count your blessings I managed to survive the ordeal,’ I continued, my smile as sweet and demure enough to enrage him further. ‘I’m certain you wouldn’t want your negligence to be the reason the Peace Agreements failed.’
His face had gone purple with rage, his breath uneven and his fist white-knuckled at his side.
I leaned closer, letting my smile sharpen into something vicious. ‘However, I would love to see how you deal with the rebellion at your throat. Since one woman seems to have rendered you … quite impotent.’
Disgusted, I moved to push past him, but he seized my arm, pushing me back against the alcove with a speed I didn’t expect. He stepped into my space, his bitter drink-filled breath striking my face.
‘I’d be careful with your temper, Miss Woodrow ,’ he bit out, and I could smell nothing but the putrid stink of him. ‘The Council only need hear of the familiarity between yourself and Blackthorn and you’ll be on the streets. From gossip, patrons would pay good money for a fey bitch like you in heat.’
Heat. Like an animal.
His grin was cruel as my heart hammered against my ribs, a coldness streaking through me as I remembered Emrys’s lips on my own.
They’d ruin me for it.
My magic rolled through my limbs, the lamps surrounding us flaring brighter in response to me, revealing the grotesque decay of the ballroom walls. Then I saw the scarring of his ears. Evidence of his shame. That he was fey-born and still possessed no magic.
‘Like your mother?’ I smiled in response, a harshness to the words. Almost willing him to touch me again. To let me break his nose. The Kysillian in me vicious for the blood of it.
The glass in his other hand shattered, wine spilling down his front as he stumbled back. My breath came in short pants as I looked at my hands, not seeing the flare of brightness in my veins. It hadn’t been me.
‘It appears you’ve had an accident, Lord Percy,’ came the annoyed voice of Thean, who had stepped close to my side, weaving their arm effortlessly through mine and pulling me away further into the room.
‘I didn’t—’ I began, turning to the voyav, but they were already glaring down at me.
‘If you could refrain from almost causing a massacre, I’d appreciate it.’ Their bored tone had returned as they stole a glass of wine from a passing maid and led me away. ‘Eaveshaw lace is difficult to clean blood out of.’ They indicated the ridiculous shirt they wore beneath their embroidered evening jacket, the silk collar slightly ruffled in a fashion a few centuries out of date.
‘The horrible bastard came over to me .’ I confiscated the glass from them and contemplated throwing it over the voyav. However, I found I needed the drink more than the drama to settle my nerves. I downed it, letting it chase away the bitter bile from Lord Percy’s threat.
‘I meant for wearing that dress.’ Thean’s eyes dragged up my skirts with annoyance as they plucked the empty wineglass from my hand and held it out to a passing servant.
‘Alma picked it.’ I ran my hand over the bodice, the perfect shade of midnight. Simply beautiful as it curved around my waist and rested demurely at the edge of my shoulders. No adornments needed. However, Alma’s ruthless lacing meant far more of me was on show than I appreciated, but considering I’d decided to linger in the shadows, it hadn’t bothered me that much.
‘Of course the little nightmare did.’ They let out an irritated breath, their gaze locking on something over my shoulder.
‘You have two options,’ they commented wryly. ‘You can dance with me or with the greasy man over there that seems intent on asking you.’
Dread made me shudder.
‘Lead,’ I snapped, taking the voyav’s hand before they could offer it. Thankfully the music started with a slow and short waltz. It had been a long time since I’d danced, and I was glad for the distraction of having to focus on my feet and the music that swelled around us. Watching the other couples laugh and dance as they moved across the floor, most giving me a sharp irritated glance.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ Thean asked quietly, making me look into those amber eyes and seeing they’d lost their sharp edge.
‘I should ask you the same thing, I’m surprised Alma let you live.’ I sighed, not needing to give away any more weaknesses.
‘I think she’s quite fond of me,’ they teased, manoeuvring us effortlessly into another turn.
‘Did the claws at your throat give you that impression?’ I asked, unable to stop the mocking smile that came to my lips.
‘She should be flattered I let her catch me.’ They winked, and then I did laugh. At the ridiculousness of it. As if they stood a chance against Alma.
However, it appeared the voyav wasn’t laying games, their face becoming quite pensive as he considered me. ‘What hunts those ruins takes its toll. You should tell your dark protector about it.’
‘What was it?’ I asked. Watching the sharp planes of their face, the mischievous glint in those amber eyes dampened slightly.
‘You should have asked that earlier,’ they taunted, but that softness remained in their expression. ‘It isn’t anything you can’t handle. You who commands deadly creatures with ease.’
‘That’s not true.’ I shook my head as we turned again.
‘One look at Emrys should prove my point, dear,’ they added darkly, turning us to emphasise their point. There, over their shoulder, at the far corner of the room, was Emrys, watching us over the rim of his wine glass with deadly focus before Thean spun me again, further across the dance floor.
‘You’re causing trouble,’ I warned, remembering Emrys’s earlier irritation at the voyav’s presence.
‘Trouble is my second name,’ they taunted, their smile sly. ‘Depravity is my third.’
They brought us into the final turn, to stop at the edge of the dance floor as the room applauded weakly with the break in music. I couldn’t clap, too focused on the dark form of Emrys coming towards us. Ignoring two lords who tried to step into his path to get his attention.
‘This should be fun,’ Thean purred quietly in satisfaction over my shoulder. ‘Darling Emrys, something important you wish to share?’
‘I’ve promised Miss Woodrow a dance,’ Emrys replied frostily with his annoyance. I was stuck between the pair of them, quite certain every single guest was staring right at us.
Bastards . The pair of them were bastards but there was no room for my irritation as Emrys held out his gloved hand, Thean’s soft chuckle mocking over my shoulder.
Despite the audience and the foolishness of it, I took Emrys’ hand. I’d done so before, but this felt different, too public and evocative of a statement. Lord Percy’s vile words seared through my thoughts but I pushed them all away, needing every ounce of concentration to deal with the lord before me.
Clearly fate was laughing at me as wickedly as Thean was from the edge of the dance floor as the next song began.
The Midnight Rendezvous . A song written for one of the mortal kings, a dance performed at his balls. One for when he attempted to find one of his many queens. A flirtatious and scandalous melody with many tales to accompany it.
Emrys stepped effortlessly into the dance, drawing me in. His hold tighter and closer than Thean’s had been. I fell into step easily, remembering the movements as if it was just yesterday that I had done them, waltzing around a small cottage in a different time, with my mother’s laughter in my ear.
The well of emotion distracted me from the danger of being in Emrys’s arms or how securely he held me. The luxurious feel of the wool of his jacket beneath my hand, how his strong limbs filled it out, the shifting of his muscles beneath. The luring scent of him, how close his jaw was, the shadow of stubble there. Remembering how rough it had felt against my skin, awakening things I didn’t think it was possible to feel.
‘You’re making a spectacle,’ I whispered sinisterly, hoping he took it seriously, because I was a moment away from crushing his toes.
‘I thought you were used to that, Croinn?’ His words brushed my cheek as I kept my face politely turned away, watching the other dancers. The swell of the music surrounding us.
‘What did Lord Percy want?’ he pressed, a warning creeping into his quiet tone.
‘It isn’t worth repeating.’ I turned my head at the right moment, seeing him waiting to meet my eye as the dance’s pace picked up. Those eyes storm grey and filled with a mix of fury and worry.
‘Kat—’
‘It’s the same nonsense I’ve dealt with many times before. I don’t need you brooding about it,’ I added tartly, allowing him to turn us sharply as I tried to keep my breathing steady.
‘ “Midnight Rendezvous” was only taught in the King’s courts. Did you anticipate me embarrassing myself?’ I tried to distract him, only for the sight of him to stop my heart for a mere moment. How that dark hair fell onto his brow, the teasing nature to his eyes and the curve of his lip. The allure of his closeness, the strength of his hold on my waist and the imposing nature of him. The firmness of his shoulder beneath my hand as our palms met. Even wearing gloves, my skin prickled with the cool nature of his magic, always present. Always seeking out my attention.
‘I would have led you through it,’ he turned me again, bringing me back closer than before, his words brushed my ear as we pressed tightly together. ‘Do I even want to know what Thean was up to?’
‘ Helping . Which might be more unsettling than anything else.’ I sighed, feeling the press of his fingers as they dragged down the fastening at the back of my dress. ‘Lord Fairfax said Mr Catron came here. He said Robert spoke to him.’
My hold on his forearms tightened as his dark gaze looked over every inch of my face, sensing that unease in me. ‘You let those creatures rest.’
The folk in the case. He’d seen that foolishness too, then.
‘Maybe I have lost my mind.’ I kept my voice low, annoyed at myself for the weakness of it. ‘First the ruins, the voices, and then the walls …’
‘What walls?’ He frowned, somehow bringing me even closer, noses almost brushing.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ I shook my head, ‘I don’t need you being annoyed with me. If this is about Thean—’
‘I’m not annoyed,’ he interrupted as he spun me, only to draw me back to his front, our hands laced together at my waist. Breath uneven as my breasts straining against my bodice, and from that darkness in his eyes, I knew he missed none of it.
His hands dragging seductively across my middle as he turned me again.
‘Really?’ I laughed quietly, seeing the tension in his jaw as those dark eyes moved down to me once more. He contemplated the small smile on my lips for a silent moment before ducking closer as if it was only us in this cursed ballroom. His hand rested so firmly against the curve of my waist.
‘I’m furious.’ The soft lethal nature to those words brushed my ear. ‘Furious you have to spend a moment in their presence. That you have to breathe the same air as beings as unpleasant as this and I hate the darkness it puts in your eyes.’
‘It was my fault. I brought us—’
‘I don’t care.’ His answer was harsh with deadly intent. I felt the cool brush of his magic against the curve of my throat in reassurance, soothing the hammering of my pulse, making my breath stutter through my lips. A wildness in him that pressed me closer. Something equally wild in me wanting free.
‘Did you break that glass?’ I ran my hand from the curve of his elbow to the strong line of his shoulder.
‘He should be grateful that’s all I did.’ Such a vicious coldness in his words. I feared I could ask him anything and he’d do it. Just as Thean had mocked.
‘It’ll be over soon. We’ll be home,’ was the only soft reassurance I could give, allowing it to spread a comforting warmth through my chest.
Home. The word settled in the small space between us and there was nothing deadly about that new light seeping into his eyes.
I wasn’t quite able to breathe as those eyes bled into a darkness without end that had nothing to do with anger or threat, but something more primal. Here in the circle of his arms I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. How the Kysillian instincts in me rose to the challenge, wanting all his strength closer. Wanting it as I’d wanted nothing else.
‘Tell me how to survive you, Kat.’ Those words brushed my ear like a secret, and I heard his anguish. Felt it in the pull of his magic, softly brushing my skin. Cautious of hurting me as it swept over my collarbone with reverence, knowing it could never have the hold it wanted. That it could never have me.
The music reached its final swell as I felt his fingers curl into the lacings at the back of my dress. The reluctance to let me go, making me tighten my hold on him. Uncaring that it was wrong. That it was dangerous.
‘I’m right here, Emrys,’ I barely whispered against the edge of his jaw. My own challenge, letting those dark eyes settle on me once more.
A clattering of applause drew us slowly from our embrace as he hesitantly let me go. The swell of people overtook us again, some of the ladies pushing forward to mob him. Clearly seeing Emrys dancing unmanned not only me.
That thought brought a stinging flush to my cheeks, making me retreat to the windows. Needing the cool air on my skin, to hide once again in the dusty alcoves before I got myself in more trouble. I quickened my steps as another song began, pressing my fingers against my brow for any relief, only to collide with someone.
The cold chill of rain on their coat, the shock of blond hair and the pure searing hatred twisting their face into something repulsive, shocking me into a stumbling halt.
‘Finneaus?’ I demanded, forgetting myself, unable to understand how Ainsworth’s son was before me. But those pointy rodent-like features could only belong to him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Watch your mouth, troll,’ he half sneered in response, reaching for me with the same barbarity Lord Percy had.
‘Creative as always.’ I slapped his hand off me with too much strength, making him yelp like the mongrel he was. The stone tucked in my corset burned with warning.
‘I’d be careful, Mr Ainsworth, Miss Woodrow isn’t fond of surprise guests,’ a voice called coldly over my shoulder. Dread sunk like a stone in my gut as I turned to see the predatory face. Hair smoothed back, fixing the dark gloves that covered his hands. His navy riding coat damp at the shoulders from the night rain.
Montagor.