Illusions of Fate Read online

  “It is none of your concern, Eleanor. All I need from you is a promise that you will keep this information to yourself.”

  “Lord Ackerly, if you asked me to deliver you the moon on a platter, I should think my odds of success slightly higher.”

  “I can make it worth your while, of course. Or, if you prefer, I can simply make you.”

  “Now we’re dealing in threats! I feel so important. I wish you had done this last week. Aunt Agatha was in town, and I thought I would die from boredom.”

  The creak of the door gives me away. They both look up, surprised to remember that I am still in the room, and perhaps more surprised to find me leaving.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Finn says at the same time Eleanor says, “Oh, please don’t leave!”

  “I do not care to be talked around. Call it a defect of my common breeding.”

  Eleanor rushes to my side, taking my hands in hers. “No, no, I’m sorry. Of course. Please, sit. You’ve clearly been through so much. I insist you stay here with me.”

  “You can’t keep her safe,” Finn says.

  “I can! Well, no. I probably can’t. But Ernest is here. And Uncle! Yes, Jessamin and I will go to stay at Uncle’s. Lord Downpike wouldn’t dare cross him, and Uncle is ever so powerful.”

  Finn slams his cane against the table. “I will not have her under the earl’s thumb, nor have her leveraged against me. Not by Downpike, and not by your family. She should be somewhere away from all of this. It’s nothing to do with her.”

  “You made it to do with her, though, didn’t you?” Eleanor looks pointedly at the ground where my shadow pools at my feet. “Can I see it? Wiggle around or something. I’ve never actually seen someone shadowed before! It’s so romantic!”

  “It is nothing of the sort! It’s . . .” I glance at Finn, who is avoiding my eyes. “He was just spying, and . . .” Romantic? Preposterous. But suddenly I am desperate to understand. “What does it mean? He wouldn’t explain it to me.”

  “Open your mouth, Eleanor, and I will cut out your tongue and use it as fertilizer for my personal herb garden.”

  “But she should know!” Eleanor whines, pulling me back to the couch across from Finn. “It’s adorable.”

  From the look on Finn’s face, it’s clear that no one has ever used “adorable” in conjunction with him before. And that he is not overly fond of it.

  “If you don’t explain it to me right now, I will never speak to either of you again. Which means no more gossip for you.” I point at Eleanor and then at Finn. “And no more . . .” My sharp words fall to pieces at the look he pierces me with. Perhaps he would mind it if I never spoke to him again.

  This room is very hot.

  “Will you leave us for a moment, Eleanor?” Finn asks.

  “I would not miss this for—”

  “Leave.”

  Eleanor’s legs walk her out of the room. She cranes her neck around to yell, “She’ll tell me later, you know! We’re the best of friends now!” The door slams behind her. “I would have told it better than you!” she yells, her voice muffled.

  Finn clasps his hands behind his back and begins pacing. “Most of what you call magic is carefully controlled. Like chemistry. I assume you have studied chemistry.”

  “Yes,” I snap.

  “When the right elements are combined—whether they are plants or minerals or symbols or simply words—by someone of noble blood, they produce a reaction. It’s more science than anything, and the best practitioners are the ones who have studied the most, and who have access to the most information. It’s a delicate process. In the more complex instances, a single misplaced word or line could change the entire thing.”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “But there are some . . . aspects . . . that we still do not understand and that are beyond our control. Much like the potential being in blood. Some generations are skipped entirely, some people are born with far greater capabilities for no apparent reason. Many believe that a good deal of what we access exists outside of us, all the time. We can find evidence of it, in things like . . .” He pauses. “Well, in things like the cards. No reading is ever the same, and the interpretations vary. It lacks the precision of the more learned methods, but there is something elemental about it, something that we cannot control or change.”

  I don’t hold back an unladylike snort. “Pretty pictures on a card tell the future.”

  “I know how it sounds. I was resistant to it as well, but my mother—” His voice catches, and he clears his throat. “She was gifted with the cards and taught me what she could. I have had the evidences I need.”

  “Will your mother tell me my fortune as well?”

  Something shifts in Finn’s eyes at my snide tone, and he looks farther away. “She’s dead. My father, too.”

  Badly done, Jessamin. I cringe. “I’m sorry. But you have still said nothing of shadows.”

  His jaw twitches, whether with annoyance or amusement I do not know him well enough to say. “Your professors must be constantly exhausted.”

  I smile. “I do try.”

  His tone shifts from a pedantic, scholarly drone to a rushed tumble of words, as though by saying them faster, I will understand them less. “Shadows go in front of you, leading into your future, and trail behind you, leaving a part of you in the past. They are clearest when we are in the light, and disappear when we lose ourselves in darkness. When a shadow elects to jump to another person, it is an indication that they are your present and your future, that in light you will find them, in darkness you will lose them. It is highly unusual and very important and, might I add, extremely dangerous for the owner of the shadow.

  “I have always been able to use mine as an extension of myself, in a form like Lord Downpike’s familiars, but much more stable because it’s actually a part of me. Thus separated, both myself and my shadow are vulnerable to attack. The fact that I have lost it represents Lord Downpike’s greatest opportunity to manipulate and blackmail me, and surely you understand now why it is best for you to be secreted away.”

  I frown, trying to process the rush of information. “You mean . . . it would be safer for you if I went away.”

  “For both of us, naturally. We are connected.”

  I throw my hands in the air, beyond exasperated. “We’ve already discussed this! Take it back! I don’t want it!”

  “I cannot! I would not even if I could!”

  “Why not, you daft boy? I never asked you to grace me with your precious shadow or to give up your future and past and whatever other nonsense that accompanies it!”

  “If you had asked, I wouldn’t have given it to you! I couldn’t have! It is precisely because you are so maddening that I had no other—”

  Eleanor’s voice sounds unnaturally loud from the entryway. We both freeze. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit, Lord Downpike?”

  Fifteen

  A PIT OF TERROR OPENS IN MY STOMACH. “ELEANOR betrayed us,” I whisper. I cannot face Lord Downpike again, not now, not with the memory of my pain so fresh.

  “She’s warning us,” Finn hisses, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward a large armoire tucked into the corner. He opens it and we climb in. He has to stoop, and only by tucking myself into him, my back against his chest, can we both be hidden with the door shut.

  My breath is fast and ragged. The walls are closing in on us. The flimsy wood that conceals us is not enough, not enough to block Lord Downpike’s piercing black eyes. He will see through and then—

  “Shh,” Finn breathes, his lips next to my ear. He puts both arms around me and pulls me in closer. “I will kill him before he touches you again.”

  I close my eyes and mentally recite the quadratic equation in an effort to slow my heart. Maybe they will leave without ever coming in this room.

  The door to the parlor opens. “In here is quite adequate,” Lord Downpike says.

  Finn tightens his arms around my waist and they are
all that keep me on my feet. No. I can accept hiding, but certainly not cowering. I’m better than this. I squeeze Finn’s hand to let him know that I am in control of myself. He does not loosen his grasp.

  “Tea?” Eleanor’s voice is as cheerful as ever.

  “I see you have already had visitors.”

  “Oh, is the chocolate still here? My cousin was by this morning. I should think the maid would have cleared it by now. No matter, here is Mr. Carlisle with the tea. Mr. Carlisle, would you please remove the cups left out from this morning? We cannot have Lord Downpike thinking I keep an untidy house.”

  There are a few sounds, the clinking of spoons, and I picture the small bowl of sugar. At least it is Eleanor’s and not Lord Downpike’s.

  “I will admit the suspense of why you are here is sending me near to fits! I cannot imagine the girls at the club will believe me when I tell them that I hosted the minister of defense himself!” She titters, and I am suddenly afraid for her.

  “This is not a social call. It is about a girl. You met her last night at the gala.”

  “Oh, the gala! I met so many wonderful people. Did you enjoy it? It was my first large event, but I do so hope to have made an impression. Were you to want aid in the future with parties or balls or—”

  “Jessamin. You would recall her. Red dress, dark skin.”

  “From the colonies! Yes, of course. She was quite the coquette, wasn’t she? I think Ernest is half in love with her. And she’s such a nice reminder of the work we are doing, spreading solid Alben values to savage nations.”

  “She stole something from me.”

  “No! How horrible! She seemed trustworthy to me, but one never can tell these days.”

  Lord Downpike continues on, failing to acknowledge anything Eleanor is actually saying. “It is of personal value only. I need it back.”

  Sir Bird! I left him in book form, tucked beneath the couch after I changed. Lord Downpike is probably sitting directly above him right now. I hold my breath, praying that the bird is either unaware of his master’s presence or faithful enough to me not to give us all away.

  “Have you contacted the royal arms?” Eleanor asks.

  “I prefer to deal with it myself. You will let me know if she contacts you.”

  “Certainly! Anything I can do to be of service.”

  “Hold out your hand.”

  “Whatever for? Oh, did I spill some sugar—” Her voice cuts out with a sharp squeak of pain. I flinch, raise a hand to the door. I can’t let him hurt her.

  Finn’s lips brush my ear. “Not yet,” he whispers near soundlessly.

  “A reminder,” Lord Downpike says. “Sides must be chosen. I do hope you stand firmly with the might of Mother Albion.”

  There is a stumbling noise, and then the sound of the parlor door opening. Eleanor’s voice is strained with the effort of suppressing tears. “Yes, thank you, do come again. I—Ernest! And Uncle?”

  A voice who must be the elusive earl says, “What is it, Eleanor? Ernest said to come immediately, that you told him it was urgent.”

  Her laugh sounds like a bird with broken wings; it borders on hysterical. “Did I? Urgent? You know how prone to exaggeration I am. I merely wanted to visit with you. You needn’t have hurried. Silly Ernest, you shouldn’t have nagged him so.”

  Finn lets out a sharp breath, and I realize that Eleanor must have sent her brother for the earl while we were discussing shadows.

  “Is that Lord Downpike?”

  “Well met, Lord Rupert.”

  “I feel like the prettiest maid at the ball, all of these men visiting. Tea?”

  “What did you do to your hand?” Lord Rupert asks. When he speaks again his voice is a low rumble of a threat. “Lord Downpike, if you had any part in this . . .”

  Eleanor speaks first. “Oh, that! I burned it this morning trying to make myself toast! Aren’t I the silliest creature alive? That is what I get for trying to give Cook a morning off.”

  “You did no such thing,” Ernest says, not as sure-sounding as the Earl, but obviously upset.

  The Earl’s voice contains all the force of generations of power. “I will not allow you to bully my own blood. You cannot threaten us in our homes.”

  Lord Downpike sounds bored. “Then where shall I threaten you?”

  Eleanor coughs. “Tea! We need more tea! I’ll see to that, yes?”

  “Lord Rupert, you may stand behind me or stand to the side, but I warn you not to get in my way.”

  After several tense seconds, Lord Rupert says, “Why did you let that man in here?”

  Finn loosens his grasp on my waist, and I allow myself to breathe more fully. Lord Downpike must be gone.

  “How does one say no to Lord Downpike?” Eleanor answers. “Please, I would very much like to know.”

  “It’s a good thing I had already fetched Uncle,” Ernest says. “But where did Jessamin go? He wasn’t here about her, was he?”

  Eleanor giggles. “Spirits below, what would a man like Lord Downpike want with a colony rat? She left right after you. Lord Downpike just wanted to . . . recruit me for his anti-Continent cause. Apparently, word of my excellent connections has gotten around.” I have to hand it to Eleanor—she can spin lies faster than anyone I know.

  “Stay out of this,” Lord Rupert says. “You haven’t the power or the intelligence to deal with a man like him.”

  “Of course,” she answers, and I want to shake both of them. “He asked me to let him know of any interesting news I hear. Should I? What are you going to do about him?”

  There is a long silence, and then Lord Rupert sounds more tired than angry. “If Lord Ackerly cannot hold out defending the Hallin lines, I fear there is nothing to be done. And sometimes I wonder if perhaps Downpike isn’t right, after all. If we are not moving forward, we will perish. For all our history and might, we’re not a large country. The resources Iveria offers . . . Well, there’s a good girl. Keep a low profile. Alert me at once if Downpike comes around again, but I cannot see him taking any further interest in you.”

  “Spirits’ blessings,” she says, and then their voices trail away, Ernest bringing up some new motion in Parliament.

  In the silence they leave in their wake, I become very aware of Finn’s body against mine. I have the overwhelming impulse to lean back, let myself rest against him, and tuck my head again into the hollow of his neck. I imagine the release of letting go, letting myself be held by him simply because I want to, not because we are hiding or fleeing.

  “Stop it!” I hiss.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop doing that magic where you make me think I want to do things that I don’t actually want to do!”

  “I did no such thing!” He pauses. “What did you want to do?”

  The armoire door opens, and I nearly scream until I realize it’s only Eleanor. She looks tired and frayed around the edges, all her happy energy gone. “I think,” she says, “that I am not quite so excited to be in on secrets as I was a few minutes ago.”

  Finn and I step out. He puts an arm around Eleanor’s slight shoulders and steers her to the couch. “Let me see your burn.”

  I hurry to a side table where a decanter is filled with rich, dark wine and pour a glass. “Here,” I say, handing it to her. She drinks it in one long draft. Finn holds her hand in his, palm up, gently rolling the silver top of his cane back and forth along the angry red slash there. With each pass the line gets lighter and the tightness around Eleanor’s eyes loosens.

  “Thank you,” I say, kneeling on the floor next to her legs and resting my head against them. She puts her hand on my hair, and I wonder which of us is providing more comfort to the other. “You kept me safe.”

  “It was nothing. If I had a frock for every time I had to hide someone in that armoire, I would need another house just to hold them all.”

  “They’re wrong, you know. About you. Your uncle and Lord Downpike. You are smart and brave and terribly important.”


  She laughs. “Oh, I know that, silly. But it’s easier not to let them realize it, because then they’d stop ignoring me, and they’d realize how much mischief I really get up to. Now, Lord Ackerly, I will have to ask you to stop stroking my hand, or my own shadow might replace your missing one.”

  He clears his throat awkwardly, and I laugh. I shift from the floor to the couch and pull Eleanor into a hug. She sighs with her head against my shoulder. “You cannot stay here. It’s not safe, though I would love to keep you.”

  Finn stands, shoulders straight and confident. “It’s settled then. Eleanor, if you feel threatened, you are welcome to join Jessamin at my country estate.”

  I shake my head. “That will be difficult, as I am not going to your country estate.”

  “But—you heard—if even Eleanor’s uncle won’t come to your defense, how can you hope to hide from Lord Downpike?”

  A pair of bright yellow eyes blinks at me from beneath the couch, and I smile with relief that Sir Bird is alive and well and on my side. It gives me an idea. I hold out my arm, and Sir Bird hops out, flapping a few times to land there.

  I stroke his feathers and smile. “I think I will not have to hide at all.”

  Sixteen

  Dear Sir,

  I am writing to inform you of the whereabouts of a certain book which frequently doubles as a bird. I understand you are concerned about it, and no wonder! Such a large volume containing so much knowledge. In fact, I believe it is actually several volumes in one, due to the rather impressive appetite of said bird in devouring many of its comrades.

  Perhaps you will recall that I left your home without a word of good-bye, and for this you must pardon my poor manners. I find myself averse to being trapped in doorless rooms, to say nothing of being methodically tortured. It is a character defect owing to my savage ancestry.

  To atone, I have entrusted the book into the care of your friend Lord Ackerly. He assures me that he will keep the volume perfectly safe, so long as I myself remain unmolested and left entirely to my own devices. To this end, he has worked a magical connection that will destroy the book should I meet harm at your lordship’s hands, or anyone working on behalf of your lordship, as your lordship’s time is precious and sometimes these things must be delegated.