Illusions of Fate Read online

  I whirl around and Finn nearly crashes into me. “Shouldn’t you be doing something productive with your time instead of following me around? I thought you were figuring out how to get your shadow back!”

  “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” He reaches up to take off his hat.

  I stand on the tips of my toes and slam it back down. “Leave that on!” I realize a second too late that this position puts us face-to-face. I haven’t been this close to him other than in immediate peril situations.

  This feels far more perilous.

  His smile spreads. “I’ll leave my hat on if you’ll have supper with me and allow me to walk you home.”

  I scowl and let go of his hat, backing away to a respectable speaking distance. “I’m safe. You have no further obligations.”

  “Is that so?” He nods toward the roof of the school. My stomach flips to discover it is lined with large black birds.

  They are watching me.

  Sir Bird shifts closer to my neck, a low, comforting sound in his throat. I stroke his feathered head but cannot look away from the silent sentries.

  I swallow hard and clench my gloved hand. “Supper then.”

  “Marvelous idea! Should we eat in the hotel dining room?”

  “Oh, no! I couldn’t. I’d be mortified.”

  He frowns. “Why?”

  I shake my head. It would be utterly humiliating to sit while being served by the same people I work—worked—with.

  “We’ll order up to your sitting room, then.”

  “Is that appropriate? I mean, for us to be there together, alone.”

  He puts a hand over his heart, expression shocked. “Why, Jessamin, you’d try to take advantage of me?”

  I scowl and kick his cane out so that he misses a step. He laughs.

  “Fine. We’ll order up.”

  Thankfully, it’s Ma’ati who delivers our meal. She beams at me, curtsying and keeping her eyes low. Finn thanks her profusely and tells her that the cook is exemplary. On her way out, she winks and I want to strangle her.

  I stab sullenly at my food. All the times I helped prepare and serve it has made it far less palatable than I thought it would be.

  Finn clears his throat but I interrupt him before he can speak. “And another thing,” I say, jabbing my fork through the air. “This ability is utterly wasted on the gentry. As far as I’ve seen, all you do with magic is make it dull and uninteresting, or utterly horrendous. It would be better off in the hands of more creative users.”

  He has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry magic is such a disappointment.”

  “It’s very disheartening.” I try my hardest not to smile. “I’d do more exciting things if I had it.”

  He leans back, toying with his silverware. “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. I’d make this accursed country warm, for one. Blast away some of this dreadful gray that seeps into my bones and makes me cold all the time.”

  “You think us far more powerful than we actually are.”

  “See? Disappointing.”

  “It’s true, it’s not very exciting. I mainly studied healing magic. The mending of bones, the repair of the body. Not very glamorous.”

  I flex my fingers. “That’s how you worked up the glove so quickly. But you said ‘studied.’ Why did you stop? Too middle class for a nobleman to be playing at doctor?”

  His smile effectively shuts him off from me, tight as a mask. “I found my interests shifted significantly when I had to come to Avebury.”

  We spend the rest of the meal in silence. But when he stands to leave, his mask drops off into mischievousness. “I have a gift for you.”

  “No more gifts!”

  “You’ll want this one.” He hurries to a side table and lights a lamp there. Muttering to himself like I do when working out a particularly complex equation, he blocks my view with his body. After a minute, he turns around, a perfect sphere of glowing brightness hovering above his palm. It looks like a miniature sun.

  “There! I can’t fix the whole country, and it will only last a few days, but I present you with the sun, on behalf of my dreadfully boring magic.”

  He bows low, holding out his hand. I reach out tentatively, afraid of being burned, but the globe merely hovers above my hand where I slide it on top of Finn’s. It’s golden and deliciously warm and instantly makes me happier and more at ease than I’ve been in weeks.

  I laugh, delighted, and by the look on Finn’s face you’d think I was the one who had given him an absurd and wonderful gift.

  Eighteen

  TWO DAYS LATER, I SIT IN ELEANOR’S PARLOR drinking the sourest lemonade in the history of liquids. The birds have not followed me here. Neither has Finn, for once.

  “Sorry,” Eleanor says. “I am afraid Mrs. Jenkins is at a loss for what to serve to someone who dislikes tea. She’s not good at improvisation.”

  “It’s very fresh.” My voice squeezes out from my tortured throat.

  “I am glad you stopped by, though! I have so much news.”

  “I had to figure out somewhere Finn—” When I use his first name, Eleanor’s eyebrows raise slyly, and I realize I’ve given her more gossip. “Lord Ackerly wouldn’t come. He’s been like a shadow.” I pause, “Well. I mean less literally, of course. He waits outside the hotel when I leave in the morning, no matter which part I try to sneak out of. He haunts the library, insists on walking me through the park, joins me for every meal.”

  Eleanor stirs her third heaping spoonful of sugar into her tea, a dreamy smile on her face. “That’s wonderful.”

  “No, it’s not! He’s hovering.” Not that he’s not good company, it’s just that I have no say in the matter. I glare at my shadow, though I know he can only be either listening or watching. He assures me he does neither.

  “You should hear what Arabella Crawford had to say when she heard that he’d shadowed you. You’ll remember her from the gala—encased in her shiny, black dress like a sausage?”

  A note of panic sounds in my ears. “How did she hear?”

  “I told her, of course.”

  “But Finn threatened you! Oh, no. I’ll forbid him from cursing you, but I can’t say how much he’ll listen.” After Hugh missed two important exams, I asked Finn to remove the curse early. He felt I was entirely too forgiving, but when I heard Hugh crying softly in his carrel I couldn’t help but relent.

  Eleanor laughs. “Silly girl. Self-preservation is a skill of mine. I would never cross Lord Ackerly. At least not in a way he’s likely to discover. No, he told me to tell.”

  “He what?”

  “The morning after that horrid business with Lord Downpike, your Finn came for a visit and asked if I would please tell everyone I could possibly think of that he had shadowed you. I was to spread it like the gossip of the season, which was no great task, because it is.”

  “But—I thought he—well, the night of the gala, he only spoke to me in secret. And the past two days we have gone nowhere where your crowd would see us. I assumed he was . . .”

  “Ashamed?”

  Blushing, I nod.

  “If he is, he has an odd way of showing it. There isn’t a cousin-of-a-cousin-of-a-noble that has not heard about it now.”

  I don’t know what to do with this information. The way he has been acting, and now to so openly claim me . . . but why spread the word among people whom I don’t know? Why not talk to me about it? Perhaps it is a step on the way to regaining his shadow.

  That’s what I want, of course. To be rid of my involvement in the entire matter. Whatever political tension there is here, whatever designs Albion has on the Iverian continent, it’s nothing to do with me.

  My eyes flick to my shadow, and I realize I cannot remember exactly how it looked before the edges were blurred.

  Eleanor continues chatting about the various stunned and devastated reactions among eligible girls who had long been pining after untouchable Lord Ackerly, obviously taking great pleasure in their dismay.


  “Oh, that reminds me, I’ve been clearing out my wardrobe and I came across another dress I thought you might like. I’ll have it sent to your room at the Grande Sylvie.”

  I nod dumbly. “Thank you. You’ve been so kind.”

  She laughs, a private smile on her face. “Yes, I am very kind.”

  That evening after she has lent me her carriage for the ride back to the hotel, I find a letter from Mama. I also find Sir Bird with a note from Finn. Apparently, Sir Bird has been rebelling against book form, and taken to chasing Finn around his library, pecking at his hands. Finn thought some time apart would be good for both of them, so long as I do not take Sir Bird out without him.

  I laugh, picturing Sir Bird terrorizing stately Finn. “Good boy,” I murmur, emptying my pockets of brass buttons and coins I’ve been collecting, and Sir Bird caws contentedly as he begins sorting them.

  I sit on the brushed-velvet chaise longue. The room is wonderful, I will admit that, but I feel false staying in it and insist on taking care of my own linens and cleaning. The bright side is giving Ma’ati extra free time, but a large part of this is an effort to avoid the ire of the chambermaids, who whisper poisonous things.

  “You’ve put me in an impossible situation,” I say to my shadow. “I had a hard enough time fitting in with my peers before. Now I am neither here nor there with any class. It is very inconsiderate of you.” I pause. “While I am thinking of it, your tie yesterday was ghastly. You shouldn’t wear brown. I much prefer the blue one. And stay out of my room.”

  I turn to the letter, which is written in Alben. I sigh, wondering whether Mama speaks it at home without me there anymore. As usual, I supply my own interpretations of what she says.

  Dearest Jessamin,

  I have not had a letter from you in a month. (You are a terrible daughter.) I blame the slowness of the boats and hate the distance between us. (How could you leave me?)

  Your cousin Jacabo responded to my inquiries after your well-being with only the vaguest of terms. (I threatened Jacky Boy if he did not update me on your life.) I take this to mean you have seen him regularly and have also forbidden him from updating me on your life in the big city. (Why are you spending your time with him when he is clearly not running in the right circles?)

  How are your studies? Have you met anyone interesting? (Why have you not given me news of your father?)

  I suspect you do not write because you have found someone. (Please, please tell me you have found someone.) I know it. (I beg the spirits for it each night.) A mother can feel these things. (I will drag you back to the island and force you into marriage if you do not take care of it yourself.) Please tell me whether he is of a good family and when I can expect happy tidings to share with my friends. (Do not do anything I cannot crow about to the neighbors.) I knew you would not be on your own for long. (Give me grandchildren. Soon.) Dear Henry has asked after you, though, so if you are lonely you know you have many options here. (I pestered Henry until he finally asked after you and took it as a sign he still wishes to marry you.)

  Write me soon or I will perish for want of daughterly affection. (You are a terrible daughter.)

  All my love, (All my love,)

  Mama

  I compose in my head:

  Dear Mama,

  Am being stalked by not one but two men of exceptionally high birth. One is a madman who tortured me and promised to make me love him forever. The other is a madman who gave me his shadow and lives to make my life difficult. No doubt you would be pleased, but I intend to deny you grandchildren for the foreseeable future. Henry is a dear, but I suspect the only reason his parents were willing to consider me for his bride was that he does not, in fact, like women at all. In place of comforting news about my marriageability and future grandchildren, please know I have adopted a bird. You would like him.

  Much love,

  Hopeless Jessamin

  A knock at my door distracts me from fictional letter writing. I open it to find Simon holding a garment bag and a letter. He bows, and I knock his cap off his head. “Don’t start that nonsense with me. Come in and have a biscuit, or I’ll box your ears.”

  Grinning, he picks up his cap, bouncing on his toes and nervous to be in the room. I realize I cannot explain why I have a large black bird in my room, but Sir Bird has elected to be a book again. Simon sets the bag on the edge of my bed.

  “Is that man around?” I ask. “The one who’s been following me?”

  “Lord Ackerly? Yes. He said you’d have a book for me to deliver to him? The letter is from him, too. He tips something handsome, Miss Jessamin. Everyone likes him.”

  “Hmm. I’m sure. Did you let him into my room earlier?”

  “No, Miss Jessamin. This is the first he’s been here all day.”

  I glance at Sir Bird, but as neither book nor bird can he tell me how Finn sneaked into my room. Annoyed, I hand Simon the book and open the letter. It’s an invitation to a symphony to be held tomorrow evening. In the bag, I find a stunning gown of pale gold with a tag attached that reads:

  Aren’t my castoffs simply amazing and tailored to your exact frame? See you at the symphony. Love, Eleanor.

  Nineteen

  “AND YOU ARE CERTAIN IT’S LORD ACKERLY WAITING downstairs for me? No strange birds hopping about?”

  Ma’ati sounds confused as she finishes buttoning the back of my dress. “Why should you worry about birds?”

  I shake my head, trying to calm myself. I have had three separate written confirmations from Eleanor and Finn that yes, the invitation came from him, and no, there is nothing sinister at play. Aside from false gifts, that is. I run my fingers down the front of the dress. Eleanor’s castoff, indeed.

  The dress is silk, pale gold with delicate beadwork on the empire-waist bodice. Sheer sleeves are open at the wrists. Finn—through Eleanor—was kind enough to include a perfectly matched black glove for my uninjured hand. I shake my right hand absentmindedly, trying to work out some of the pins and needles.

  I notice it less lately, but the sensation is always there. I cannot imagine what it must be like to feel this way all the time, over your entire body. It makes me a bit more compassionate toward Finn. I would go mad in his place.

  Then again, I’m fairly certain he already is.

  “I wish we had something sparkly to put on your wrist or around your neck,” Ma’ati says, considering the final product. This time we did not bundle my hair into a bun, but pulled it away from my face and neck with a twist and let it trail down my back.

  “Never you mind. Thank you for your help.” I stand and kiss her cheek. “You know, this dress would flatter you even more than me.”

  Ma’ati waves her hand. “When would I wear a thing like that?”

  “Jacky Boy would like it very much on a certain special occasion. It’ll keep until then.”

  Ma’ati’s face blooms into the biggest smile I have ever seen on her. “Well, you know we were waiting to save up enough so we wouldn’t have to live in the hotel. We were a ways off—years off—but then . . . oh, I shouldn’t speak of it until it’s certain.”

  “What? You must tell me now!”

  “Lord Ackerly has offered Jacky Boy a position in his country estate! It’s a good deal of responsibility. He would be in charge of the kitchens and head butler duties, and Lord Ackerly says he has never kept a staff so Jacky Boy would do well to bring someone with him. His words were ‘perhaps a bride.’ And then he gave Jacky Boy a good-faith payment and promised to arrange it all as soon as he is ready to staff his new home! We would have our own cottage on the property.” She sits back onto the chaise longue, nearly overcome. “It’s more than I ever hoped for. I was so scared when my aunt sent me here—I was afraid I’d be lost or killed or beaten daily. But I found Jacky Boy and now we’ve a real future and oh, Jessamin, I am so happy I might burst.”

  I cannot puzzle why Finn would be taking on servants now when he so recently told me he never kept them, but Ma’ati’s j
oy is contagious. I wrap her into a hug. “You deserve every happiness in the world.”

  “Thank you. He’s a good man, you know. Jacky Boy likes him, and Jacky Boy is the best judge of character.”

  I shrug noncommittally, but she doesn’t let me go, pressing on. “He looks us in the eyes, Jessamin. All of us. You’ve worked here long enough to understand what that means. But, oh! Stop right now.” She pulls back from our embrace, fussing over my dress. “We can’t wrinkle you. Now go and enjoy your evening listening to terrible, boring Alben music.”

  I laugh and stand. “Yes, I can’t say I am looking forward to that part. Perhaps I’ll get in a good nap.”

  Ma’ati follows me into the hall, then grabs my elbow and turns me around. “Not the servants’ stairs. Just this once, use the main ones. But give me half a minute to go ahead, so I can hide near the lobby and watch you walk down!”

  She hitches her skirt and takes off at a run for the back stairs. If it were anyone but her, I’d follow, refusing to make a spectacle. I cannot say no to Ma’ati.

  Counting to sixty in my head, I walk slowly down the wood-paneled hallway toward the open flight of stairs that will take me to the lobby. I peek over the balcony to see if Ma’ati is ready. Standing in the center of the marble floor, looking straight up at me, is Finn.

  His tailed tuxedo is trim and fitted, showcasing the slender lines of his body, and his golden hair catches the overhead electric chandelier. It’s even a bit messy tonight, not so controlled as usual. He leans casually against his cane, and when he meets my eyes, a smile slowly spreads across his face.

  Something inside of me breaks and re-forms into a new, unknown shape, and I do not know what has happened or why, only that I feel as though I am glowing from my toes to the tip of my head and I want to be beside Finn right now.

  I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart, trying to tell myself that it’s the effect of his silly charmed hair, but as I take the steps in measured pace, I realize this time it feels different. Before there was a sort of fuzzing, a misty separation from reality. But tonight everything is clearer, sharper, as though the sun has finally broken through the Alben clouds and lit the world in a new way.