by Emma Newman
Will struggled to suppress any sign of his disappointment. He’d hoped for Oliver’s sister, who was docile enough to forget about when with a mistress, and a good excuse to spend time on the town with Oliver; or, at a push, Elizabeth Papaver, who made up for her vapid nature with her beauty and musical talent. But Catherine Papaver? She’d been so far down the list he and Oliver had debated on the Rialto in Venice that they’d forgotten about her.
Why her? He wanted to stand up and bang his fist on the table and demand the answer. He’d always been good, he’d worked hard to learn the rules of the game and play his part with perfection. To be matched with the dud of the Papavers’ latest generation was hardly the reward he expected and deserved, but he had to say something polite. “It sounds like a very strategically important match, Father.”
“It’s critical to secure our local interests,” his father replied. “I understand that she’s been in Switzerland for the past three years at a finishing school. Seems the Papavers realised she needed polishing up.”
“Has it worked?”
“I haven’t seen her. Her father has reassured me she’ll be back in time for the Ball. I’m sure they’ll have whipped her into shape.”
Will didn’t raise his hopes. Finishing schools improved posture and table manners but they didn’t give a girl a better face to look at over breakfast every morning. He had to think of the family though, and besides, once she’d given him a son or two he could pack her off to a country house.
“I’m honoured to play such a key role in our family’s fortunes,” he said, making his father smile a little. “I’m sure she’ll have blossomed.”
She couldn’t have got much worse, he told himself. He remembered how bruised his toes had been after she’d trampled on them the night they’d danced years before when they were in their early teens. She had as much grace as a drunken duckling and he had little hope she’d turn out to be a swan.
“Good,” his father said, relieved. “I’m waiting to hear back from the Censor about the announcement, but she’s been rather distracted.”
“Miss Lavandula distracted? Is there a new fashion in town?”
“Her brother is missing.”
Will didn’t hide his surprise. The Master of Ceremonies was the most important person in Aquae Sulis society and his sister, the Censor, was the second. “For how long?”
“Only a couple of days, but the Censor is worried, I can tell you that. Keep an ear open, will you? No one seems to know a thing about where he’s gone. He didn’t leave a note or even mention he’d be leaving.”
“To go missing this close to the start of the season speaks of foul play.”
“It hasn’t been ruled out. But that’s for me and the other members of the Council to worry about. It’s good to have you back in Aquae Sulis, Will.”
“Thank you, Father,” he said and took his leave.
He was unsurprised to find Imogen lurking at the top of the stairs as he went up to change. “William dear, I have a few minutes spare before I leave, would it be a trouble to you to give me the second part of my gift?”
“No trouble,” he said, forgetting that he’d planned to draw it out as long as he could. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, just to the park to promenade with Cecilia. There’s a rumour that some controversial individuals have been petitioning the Censor for entrance to the first Ball of the season and Cecilia always knows the latest gossip. It quite makes up for the fact that she insists upon drinking coffee at Lunn’s.”
“Only the most bland adopt such embarrassing affectations,” he said, acclimatising to the tittle-tattle of city life again. “Come to my room, I’ll tell you the secret there.”
The maid was carrying some of his washing out as they arrived. She blushed at him and bobbed a curtsy before hurrying away. He shut the door.
“And how are you, Imogen?”
“Well enough, now tell me this secret!”
He smirked. She hadn’t changed. “The fan had a powerful Charm woven into it at the point of making,” he said in an appropriately conspiratorial whisper. “Should you find yourself at a soirée or ball and wish to look at someone for a length of time beyond that which would be considered decent, simply fan yourself twice and ensure only your eyes are exposed.”
“What will it do?”
“The fan will give you the appearance of looking in the other direction,” Will said, seeing its potential dawn on his sister.
“So no one may deduce the object of my affection. What a delightful gift, Will.” She pecked him on the cheek again. He’d never received so many kisses in one day. In the Nether at least. “I’m pleased to say that I underestimated you. I thought you’d bring back a dull trinket, not something secret and useful!”
He bowed slightly, enjoying her admiration. “As soon as I heard of the craftsman, I knew I had to get one for you. I understand it’s unique in Albion.”
She glowed with delight. “Cecilia will positively die of jealousy. Now, Will dear, seeing as you have given me such a deliciously perfect gift, permit me to give you a secret in return.”
It was a day of surprises. He allowed her to draw him closer.
“I know they’re planning to marry you to Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver,” she began.
“Alas, sister, the secret is already out. Father has just broken the news to me.”
“Ah, but that’s not the secret I had in mind,” she said and patted his hand. “You have my sympathy, by the way. No, I wanted to tell you that Elizabeth, the younger and frankly superior sister, has had her eye on Nathaniel for a long time now. The silly thing has been so desperate to impress him it’s loosened her tongue on more than one occasion.”
“And what has the younger tongue revealed?”
“That Catherine Papaver has a rebellious nature which has been causing her family a great deal of distress. Apparently it was fostered by a governess they sacked shortly before she left for finishing school. If that is indeed where she was sent…” She looked pleased by his frown. “I’d be careful, Will, there’s nothing more dangerous to a man’s social standing than a wife who refuses to play by the rules. And I do know how fond you are of how others think of you.”
11
Cathy sat on the floor of the living room looking at the boxes stacked around her. She’d been up all night packing and was waiting for the removals company to come and put them in storage.
The Seeker Charm had targeted her and then faded without further incident, leading her to conclude that her brother Tom (assuming it was he who had cast it) must have been outside the city and was travelling there now. The Charm would be cast again when he arrived, and would give him an updated location.
She could run. But where? Why? It would be a waste of time and energy now the Shadow Charm had been removed by Lord Poppy. Without the Shadow Charm there was no way to hide from a blood relative casting a Seeker Charm and they would find her wherever she went in Mundanus or the Nether, not that she’d try to hide in the latter. Aside from family estates dotted around the country most of Fae-touched society lived in Aquae Sulis, Londinium or Oxenford, reflections of Bath, London and Oxford. It made it very hard to hide there without help, and with her only ally now compromised there was no one else to turn to.
Her friend in the flat above had keys and detailed instructions in case Tom didn’t let her settle her affairs properly. She’d paid for five years’ storage and memorised the contact numbers of all the key parties involved, knowing that she would be unlikely to be able to smuggle anything into Aquae Sulis once her family got hold of her. They’d search her, she knew it. Her father would be looking for books.
If her family was desperate enough to use Charms that powerful in Mundanus, she had to assume Tom would be travelling there as fast as possible. Thankfully her parents distrusted diesel trains and modern jet aircraft, so he’d be restricted to travelling by car. But England wasn’t that big; even if he was hunting for her on the other side of the country
he’d be in Manchester before the day was out.
It was the first time she’d stopped since she’d got back after the mad dash across the city. Whenever she paused, she shook and cried, so she just focused on practical things, things that could be solved by telephone calls and forward planning. If only surviving the social hell of Aquae Sulis was as easy as mundane planning and logistics.
She’d checked her phone several times but there was nothing from Josh. What was she expecting after what she’d done to him? Snippets of their last conversation were replayed again and again in her memory, flooding her with regret and a gnawing grief. Every hour or so she debated whether to call, but then decided it was best to cut herself off. Better for him. But she worried about his head, and whether that woman had really taken him to hospital.
She picked up the phone, thumb poised to text him, but one arrived before she started to type. Throat tight, she opened it only to find it was from one of her friends.
“Have you seen Hot magazine’s homepage? Josh isn’t in London, is he? LOL!”
She rummaged in one of the boxes for her iPad and Googled the magazine. The homepage featured an exclusive story about an actress she’d never heard of, but the picture made her want to throw up. It was the woman from the Lamborghini. The picture had been captured by some paparazzo lowlife by the look of it; she could see the entrance to a restaurant in the background.
Josh, a dressing on his right temple, was looking wide-eyed at the media frenzy around him, the redhead wrapped around one of his arms, smiling for the cameras. The headline made her head pound. “Who is Ella’s new lover?”
She tossed it onto the sofa, unable to do anything save bury her face in her hands. She hadn’t run out of tears after all.
The tea was cold by the time she stopped, and she’d run out of tissues. As she hunted for more, a lone pen rolled out from under the sofa, along with a couple of pennies and more than a few balls of dusty fluff.
Cathy just sat there, watching them, the pressure in her sinuses mingling with the headache she already had. She picked up her phone and texted Josh.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean what I said. It was the best year of my life. Take care of yourself. I love you. I really do. Cathy x”
Then she deleted it.
There was a second casting of the Charm. He was getting closer and running a terrible risk using it in a city; there were bound to be Arbiters picking up on the activity.
She put the kettle on and looked at the poster. Keep calm and–
There was a screech of tyres outside. She got a second mug out.
The communal door banged open after another flagrant use of a Charm. She heard heavy footsteps taking the stairs two at a time. The steam plumed from the spout and the kettle clicked off.
There was a hammering on the door, so loud it boomed through the flat. She poured the water onto the teabags as the Charm was used again and it flew open.
“Cat?” her brother shouted.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she replied, relieved he was alone. She squeezed out the teabags as he bombed down the hallway and appeared at the kitchen door. “Tea?”
“Cat.” He rushed over, threw his arms around her. He was bigger than she remembered, a military historian trapped in the body of an international rugby player. After almost crushing her to death he held her at arm’s length. “Is there anyone else here?” he asked and she shook her head. He looked so much older. His bright-blue eyes had dark circles beneath them and his wavy brown hair and sideburns worn longer than she recalled. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you…” He stopped, tears welling. “I’ve been so worried.”
She had no words. He searched her eyes, looking her over as if he couldn’t quite believe it was her.
“Did someone take you? Did someone put you up to it?”
“No.”
“Who helped you? Is there another family behind this?”
“No one. I did it by myself.”
“Of your own free will?”
She nodded, and got the milk out of the fridge to busy herself and mask her trembling.
“But why? God, Cathy, you’ve made our lives hell.”
“Whose lives?”
“All of us, blast it! Your family! What do you have to say for yourself?”
As she struggled to find something to say she looked at him properly. Tom had broadened in the shoulder and was quite handsome. His face had lost its boyish shape and he’d become a man since she last saw him. He was wearing a three-piece suit in a style very modern for the Nether. It looked vintage in Mundanus but not as out of place as the sheathed sword hanging from his waist.
“It’s illegal to carry those here, you know that?”
“Bloody hell, Cat. Don’t you understand? I’ve been running all over the country looking for you. Mother has been in a state and Father…well.”
“I know,” she said. She’d intended to apologise, but the words just didn’t form. She went and closed the front door and came back to pour in the milk and stir the tea.
He took the mug she offered to him, barely even glancing at it. “How did you do it?”
“A Shadow Charm and lots of planning.” She was amazed at how calm she felt, almost like she was watching someone else’s life end. Perhaps it was the bliss of not anticipating the worst anymore; it was already happening.
“You look older.”
“Of course I do,” she replied. No doubt her mother would add that to the list of crimes she’d committed; no one aged in the Nether. Once a girl reached adulthood she was moved out of the nursery and into the Nether, rarely being allowed back into the real world, to protect her youth.
“It suits you.”
“Perhaps I’ll set a trend,” she muttered. “Your tea is getting cold.”
He shook his head. “You’ve no idea. Don’t you care?”
“You ask me that? You’re the only one I thought would understand.”
“I know it was hard for you.”
“Hard?” she laughed bitterly. “There’s an understatement.”
He looked down at the tea for the first time. She knew he was remembering all the times she’d hoped he would intervene, all the times she hoped he would stop her father. He never did, but then neither did she. How could they have?
“You had it the worst, it’s true, but running away? Do you realise the amount of pressure we’ve been under? The lies we’ve had to tell to explain your absence?”
“I bet Father was more worried about the scandal than what could have happened to me.”
“You selfish, spoilt little bitch.”
Her mouth fell open. He’d never said anything harsh to her in his life.
“You didn’t stop and think for one minute what it would do to anyone else, did you?” He shook his head. “I thought you’d been kidnapped. I thought you were in Exilium at one point. I even thought you were dead. I couldn’t believe that you’d just disappear without telling me.”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Tom.” Unable to look into his eyes, her attention drifted down to his hands. She blinked.
He looked down at the wedding ring. “That’s one of the things that happened whilst you were missing.”
“Who…”
“Lucy Californica-Papaver.”
“A Californica? I don’t understand.”
“It was to end the feud.”
“And to bring their money into the family, no doubt,” she added, but he remained silent. “An American. Do you like her?”
He waved the question away. “We haven’t been married for very long.”
“Were you given a choice?”
He gave her a long, hard stare. “Father had to tell everyone you were away in Switzerland at a finishing school. You had influenza and regrettably were unable to travel back for the wedding. Understand?”
She shut her eyes as the most awful thought crept in. With Tom now married she was next on the block. Elizabeth was the jewel of their generation. H
er parents would be keen to make a good marriage for her, meaning they would dispose of the plain, troublesome middle child as quickly as possible.
“What?” Tom asked. She could feel her lips tingling as the blood rushed out of them.
“Lord Poppy said I was needed in Aquae Sulis,” she whispered, leaning against the worktop as her legs shook.
“You spoke to Lord Poppy?” Tom slammed the mug down. “When?”
“Two days ago. He lifted the Shadow Charm. That’s why you could find me.”
“Bloody hell, Cat! He said you were needed and you’re still here?”
She chewed a thumbnail. “I had things to do.”
His disgust was evident. “I don’t know whether to admire your bravery or be concerned for your sanity.”
“When’s the first ball of the season?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Not next week?”
“No. And stop stalling, Cathy, it’s time to go.”
“Lord Poppy said I needed to be back by then. Why? What’s going to happen?” He didn’t reply, instead gulping down the tea, so she took a guess. “Are they going to marry me off?”
“Father will talk to you when–”
“Shit!” He blanched at her outburst. “That’s it, isn’t it? Who is it?”
He groaned, rubbed his eyes like a man trying to wake up from his own nightmare. “Catherine. Stop thinking about yourself for just one moment and get your coat.”
“Who is it?”
Looking up at the ceiling in frustration, he dumped the mug and adjusted the scabbard. “William Reticulata-Iris. He got back from his Grand Tour yesterday. The engagement is to be announced at the ball.”
Cathy shook her head, backing away towards the door. She remembered the last time she saw William Iris. He was fourteen and too confident; she’d been an awkward twelve year-old forced into dancing with him at his request. He’d only done it to humiliate her. He was cocky, egotistical and as shallow as the rest of them. “No. No way! I’m not going to marry him. I’m not going to marry anyone!”
