The squiggles shook as if hit by lightning.
Is that good or bad?
“Well, let’s see. I presented Vott the tea in his study. Calder was in attendance but didn’t seem interested in my arrival nor the gift. His focus was entirely engaged with his paramour, Alvilda. In fact, he wasn’t receptive to me at all. But there was nothing particularly noteworthy about the conversation. Oh, there was a female shifter guard at the door; I don’t know her name. She wasn’t introduced.”
She’d have to ask Brent who was on duty that day. Perhaps they’d seen something?
Why did the gift of the tea matter? She now knew Hanna had brought it, but since it wasn’t the source of the poison, who cared?
As she wondered these things to herself, the squiggles mysteriously faded from the pages and the glyphs lost their transparency, solid once again. The book must be done with her for now, the fleeting moment of discovery rendered complete.
“Oh my gosh,” Hanna said. “We need to be going. The tea party is starting shortly.”
Although she didn’t relish the idea of the gathering, Becka didn’t want to see what Maura’s next move would be if she kept refusing her. Becka stored the Shadow-Dweller book in her bag and rose to go.
Becka couldn’t wait to talk to Quinn about the squiggles.
Chapter 13
“Lady Hanna!” exclaimed Sigfrid. “May I sit next to you?”
“Please do, Lady Sigfrid.” Hanna popped a black-skinned grape into her mouth as a young serving girl filled her glass. The fiery relationship coach appeared well at ease, all smiles and poise.
Sigfrid plopped down next to Hanna on the light-green linen blankets which were spread out on a natural ringed formation of flat-topped sandstone. It relieved her when her quieter sister, Ingrid, sat to her right without preamble.
Focused on conserving her energy, Becka had been the first to take a seat. Everyone arranged themselves around her. Hanna to her left, Ingrid to her right, and Yaeli and Alvilda across from her. Perhaps she could get through this social occasion by smiling, nodding, sipping, and snacking.
Becka tried to enjoy the chatter of the other women but couldn’t help being distracted by watching Lorelai test the food on her plate and her glass for poison. But the day was pleasant, the rocks radiated warmth against her legs, and a soft breeze caressed her skin. A group of finches endeavored to sneakily steal crumbs, and as the fae wouldn’t shoo them away, were guaranteed to share in the feast laid out on the central table.
When Lorelai gave her a curt nod, Becka picked up a glass of strawberry-basil shrub and sipped at the tart, refreshing beverage. The others appeared oblivious to Lorelai and Shamus. Another two fae guards walked the perimeter of the meadow, close but not underfoot. Becka sighed, wishing Quinn had accompanied them.
For all appearances, this gathering seemed like a casual ladies’ afternoon tea. Hanna wasn’t hovering over Becka, for which she was grateful. Shamus was doing his part to glower at everyone, although she couldn’t tell if anyone paid him any mind. From her discussion with Brent, Becka knew Vott’s relationship to the shifters was a unique one. Did other fae have shifters living among them? From their nonchalance, she’d have thought the practice commonplace.
Ingrid stood and raised her glass in Becka’s direction, breaking Becka out of her reverie. “In honor of our heir, I propose an einvigi!”
“Yes!” Alvilda replied, a sure smile on her lips and competitive glint in her eye. “It’s just the thing you need to uplift your spirits.”
Becka’s stomach did a flip. An einvigi was an age-old fae contest of wit and skill, but because of her years away from House Rowan and her unguilded status, Becka had never taken part in one. She wanted to feel thrilled at being included, so why was her gut churning with anxiety?
“What are the einvigi’s conditions?” Sigfrid asked. “Wait, who won last time?”
As if she didn’t already know. Based on the way everyone turned to look at Yaeli, a more obvious rhetorical question could not have been asked. Yet from Becka’s point of view, it was a revelation. In fact, she realized she didn’t know their gifts well or in depth. Today could prove to be more informative than she’d expected.
Yaeli blushed and fanned her face as if to hide it. “Why, I believe I had that honor.” Her confident smile betrayed her demure reply.
“Then the choice of terms falls to you,” Sigfrid replied, raising a glass to Yaeli.
“Hmm.” Yaeli cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips in concentration. “Oh, I have it! I propose each of us changes an element of our surroundings. The change must blend in and appear to be what nature intended. However, once noticed, it should be unmistakably flawed. Bonus points for humor. The one whose illusion is the most subtle wins the round.”
Ingrid groaned. “You play to your strengths!”
Yaeli shrugged. “As if you wouldn’t?”
Everyone laughed except Becka. Am I in over my head?
“Lady Hanna, would you judge?” asked Sigfrid. “You’re the only non-Rowan present.”
“Oh, what fun!” Hanna replied. “I’ll play arbiter.”
“But wait.” Alvilda frowned. “We aren’t being fair to our heir, Lady Becka. She’s guilded but no illusionist. We’d be leaving her out with this challenge. It wouldn’t be right to exclude her.”
An air of disappointment settled over the group, and in unison they glanced over to Becka and then took quick sips of their drinks or bites of food to distract from the palpable discomfort.
Had Becka imagined the condescending edge to Alvilda’s voice, or was it her own lack of self-confidence in her gift that ruffled her proverbial feathers? Surely, the heir to House Rowan should be able to compete in mere parlor games?
Couldn’t she?
Becka cleared her throat. “I think Yaeli’s challenge is fair. I only ask the honor of going last.”
She was answered with silence, surprised glances, and arched brows. When she met Alvilda’s gaze, her pursed-lipped frown transformed into a demure smile and a nod of encouragement.
Could she be any more fake?
“Is that acceptable to everyone?” Becka asked, daring the others to challenge her. Which she knew they wouldn’t.
“Certainly,” Hanna replied. She leaned over and whispered, “I’m excited to see what you have planned.”
So am I. Becka forced a smile, glad to have at least Hanna’s encouragement.
Hanna raised her glass to the group. “Let the einvigi begin! As the prior champion, Lady Yaeli has the honor of going first.”
Yaeli set her glass down and stood, her gauzy pink dress almost floating around her as she moved. She cupped her hands together in front of her, brow furrowed in concentration. Between her hands, a spinning ball of energy grew from a speck to the size of her head in seconds, sparks of light illuminating the golden sheen of Yaeli’s eyes. A few moments passed, and then Yaeli tossed the orb up into the air, where it exploded into countless sparks flying in all directions.
The shifters, the birds, and Becka didn’t shy away from the miniscule points of light as they floated down, slowly dying out like embers from an unstoked fire. Becka felt the impact of the energy like tiny pinpricks against her skin. A light band of pressure encircled her head, her telltale alert of coming into contact with magic. Becka had become used to a persistent, low-grade headache at House Rowan. If only she could find a way around it.
Yaeli’s display was met with polite clapping.
All of the secrets of the illusory arts hadn’t been disclosed to her, as she was a Null and not an illusionist, yet Becka understood a few precepts. In order for the magic to work, an illusionist needed to either be in contact with the item in question or cast an energetic net through which the illusion could travel. Therefore, anything in range of the ball or the caster’s immediate vicinity could be the target.
Yaeli scooped up her glass and sat back down. “Anyone?”
Becka looked around but saw nothing ami
ss. At least, not yet.
“Give us a minute,” Ingrid said, her gaze scrutinizing every detail. “We’ll find it.”
“Or you won’t.” Hanna scrunched her nose. “Either way, the contest continues. Alvilda is up next.”
Alvilda straightened her skirts, took a deep breath, and then closed her eyes. She wore her hair in big, thick braids swirled around her head, and they bobbed slightly along with her breathing. After another moment she exhaled and looked up, a pleased smile upon her face.
Becka looked all around Alvilda but detected nothing amiss.
Everyone looked around, but no one spoke up. The tension had Becka at the edge of her seat. She hadn’t imagined she’d enjoy this as much as she was.
“Next,” was all she said, serenely sipping her bubbly beverage.
“Sigfrid, it’s to you.” Hanna gestured her way.
“Anyone catch them out yet?” Sigfrid asked, standing up.
Becka cocked her head to the side. “Are you delaying?”
Sigfrid jokingly frowned at her and the others laughed. “Never!”
Like Yaeli’s method, Sigfrid held up her hands and created a spinning ball. Instead of lightning, this one appeared to be some disco-inspired glitter ball wobbling wildly out of control. Moments later Sigfrid threw her hands outwards and the energy ball exploded in all directions.
Alvilda and Hanna both attempted to shield their faces from the energetic shards, but there was no need, as they disappeared on contact. By the time they looked back up, Sigfrid was sitting again, eyes on Ingrid.
Becka joined the others in a round of clapping, knowing the magical net was cast by the ever-increasing pressure inside her head. She debated pulling the hot sauce out of her bag, but waited, keeping her focus on the game at hand.
“Ingrid,” Hanna said. “It’s to you.”
Ingrid stood and held up a single hand. A moment later a single, enormous jasmine blossom appeared, glistening with morning dew. The flower shuddered, and then exploded, particles flying in all directions.
Again, Becka’s head felt the impact of the tiny particulates. Again, she saw nothing amiss. Again, she clapped and smiled along. Becka sighed. Is it just my inexperience, or am I just not very good at this game?
“Becka,” Hanna said, breaking her reverie. “The last turn falls to you.”
“So it does.” She stood and stretched, aware of how different she was from the other fae-touched women. Her pink hair and ear piercings. Her red track suit, neon green sports bra, and running shoes. Her occasional human or city phrases. It was kind of them to include her when everything about her stuck out like a fox trying to blend in with the chickens.
She gazed back at her seat. Who was she kidding? Perhaps she should give up before she embarrassed herself.
That’s when she noticed the design shift in the fabric she’d been sitting upon. When she moved, the fabric shifted, almost imperceptibly. Once she noticed it, she couldn’t un-notice it.
She moved to the outside of the ring, walking behind the others. “The blankets we’re sitting upon. The fine linen now has a pattern that matches the creases and whorls in the sandstone underneath.”
“Oh, good catch, Becka!” Hanna said.
Was she a relationship coach, or a cheerleader?
“I can see it now too,” Sigfrid said. “Whose was it?”
Alvilda raised a hand, shaking her head in disdain. “I hate it when I get caught out first. But where’s your entry to the einvigi, Becka?”
Becka’s stomach flipped. She had an idea, but no clue if it would work. But what harm could come from trying? It wasn’t like her reputation would take a hit.
“I’m going to try something.” She squatted down next to the fabric and removed her right glove. Becka held her hand out over the blanket, focusing with all her might.
“You can’t win by destroying our creations,” Alvilda snapped. “Those aren’t the stakes.”
By the edge in her tone, Alvilda appeared to be taking this contest more seriously than the others. It was good she didn’t care for the woman or Becka might have felt hurt over her tone. Maybe.
“I’m well aware,” Becka replied.
Over the past few months, Astrid had trained her rigorously to control the extension of her Nulling gift to minute detail. It wasn’t as perfect as she’d like, and the process always caused her head to ache, but what better opportunity to test her finesse?
Hovering her hand over the fabric, she could sense the warp and weave of the magic running through it. She didn’t understand what all the components did, only how they entwined with the fabric on a structural level.
“I’m so excited!” Hanna blurted out.
“Shh!” Ingrid shushed.
“Sorry,” whispered Hanna, head slumped down.
Becka ignored them all, her interest enraptured by the elemental magic woven through the fabric. That’s when she noticed something odd. Another layer of magic.
Ever so carefully, Becka released just a trickle of her energy onto that thread of magic. A moment later, the light-green color of the fabric shook and shuddered. A ripple spread across her blanket, the color fading in places, revealing an uneven and imperfect dye job.
The pattern of the sandstone remained, all the more out of place on the mottled beige and green blanket.
In the following moments of silence, Yaeli laughed out loud. “I mean, you know it’s done, but we all prefer to pretend in the perfection.”
“Your control is remarkable, removing the maker’s spell but leaving Alvilda’s,” Ingrid said. “You’ve come so far in such a short time.”
The genuine compliments touched her. Becka had had such a difficult time feeling connected. Perhaps Hanna and Maura were right. She needed to be open to connecting with her family.
“A clever feat, to be sure,” Alvilda replied. “But does it qualify for the einvigi? I mean, we all noticed your change right off.”
There was some general hemming and hawing amongst the crowd, but Becka broke the silence. “I agree. I’ll give it another go.”
She walked around the group, alert for signs of the others’ magic.
“Eww,” cried Hanna, who spat a grape out into her napkin. “I thought the last one was a little off,” she said to the serving girl, “but these are too bitter to eat.” She leaned forward and dropped the few she had in her hand onto her plate.
Yaeli raised an eyebrow, but then quickly grabbed a bite of cheese and bit in. Her nose wrinkled with disgust. “All right, who tainted the food?”
Sigfrid shrugged. “I did.” She sipped from her glass. “Ugh! But I got the timing wrong. I’d meant for the bitterness to fade in slower.” Sigfrid held up her hand, appearing to grab the air, and then shook it and waved it away.
Hanna picked up her discarded grape cluster. “At least the food is good. That leaves two remaining: Yaeli and Ingrid.”
Becka cleared her throat.
“And Becka!” Hanna giggled.
Was Hanna always this bubbly? Becka shook her head. Which was when she noticed Shamus shooing away a bee above his head.
Shamus stood at the edge of the grove leaning against an aspen tree. Despite standing in the shade, his silhouette dappled by the sunlight, Becka could still make out tiny bright white petals atop his head. As she neared, Becka recognized the distinct forms of miniature jasmine flowers blooming off of the peaks of his curly hair. Shamus greeted her approach with a growing scowl.
“Ingrid,” Becka asked, glancing back over her shoulder. “I take it this is your doing?”
Ingrid nodded. “I thought, with him in the shade, that no one would notice.”
“It’s a good catch, Becka!” Sigfrid said.
“Need I remind you,” Shamus interrupted, “shifters have no interest in your magic. Whatever you’ve done here,” he gestured at the top of his head, “is non-consensual.”
Ingrid blushed deeply. “Apologies, Shamus, I forgot myself.” She held up a hand and blew across it
in his direction. A moment later the petals fell from his head and dissipated into dust.
“You okay?” Becka asked Shamus. He shouldn’t have to endure being treated as an ornament in a party game. At least Ingrid’s apology had sounded heartfelt.
“She can’t hurt me,” he replied.
It didn’t exactly answer Becka’s question, but his expression had returned to neutral.
Becka gave him a quick nod and then walked back over to her seat.
“That leaves us Yaeli’s illusion and whatever else Becka comes up with,” Hanna said, popping another grape in her mouth.
“If you can’t find it, that’s all right. I’ll happily claim my win.” Yaeli’s smug grin was met with frowns from the other contestants.
Tired of enduring the low-level magic-induced headache, Becka took a moment to pull a bottle of her hot sauce out of her bag. This raised some eyebrows but didn’t shock anyone, as her predilection for hot sauce as pain reliever was well-known at this point.
At that moment, a bird landed on the blanket next to her, seeming to be interested in the bright coloring of the bottle in Becka’s hand. And in that moment, Becka saw Yaeli’s illusion and cried out in alarm.
Yaeli had reversed the nap on the bird’s feathers, causing the bird to somehow appear put together backwards, and yet in the proper shape. The effect disturbed Becka at a deep level, although she couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The finch just looked wrong.
She heard others ask what was amiss, but Becka’s attention was entirely on the bird. Missing not a beat, she set down the bottle in front of the bird, who then moved in for a closer look. Becka reached out a single finger, her focus tuned, and just barely touched the bird. In that millisecond she attempted a partial removal of Yaeli’s magic, just to see what would happen.
Instead of reversing the feather nap 180 degrees to the correct direction, Becka had managed to turn it halfway back to normal so each barb along the shaft stood out at a right angle, causing the bird to appear perpetually startled.
Becka shrank back, appalled at her impact on the bird. Yaeli’s laughter pealed out, startling the bird from its seat. It flew up and then came back down, picking at a seeded cracker it no doubt took as bird food. The others leaned in for a closer look.
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