by Emma Newman
And there was the new curse. When she was with Josh her father’s curse had made it impossible for her to undress near him. Now the Iris curse would make it impossible for them to even hold hands. Or kiss.
Just let him go.
The thought cut through the emotional mess and filled her with a sense of relief. Josh had moved on. Of course he had, why wouldn’t he, especially with all those women to choose from? He probably didn’t even remember her, and if he did it was probably the awful things she said to him just before that stupid wish.
The relationship she had with Josh had to be re-framed as something wonderful she once had but was now over, instead of something that was waiting to be rekindled if she could navigate the various obstacles between them. Besides, he’d be better off without her.
Cathy cupped her hands around the mug and blew across the top, watching the ripples on the surface of the hot chocolate. Hankering for an old love wasn’t going to do her any good. She needed to focus on what she could do right now and what she could work towards whilst finding a route out.
She’d been so busy thinking about getting out and finding Josh that she’d lost sight of why she ran away in the first place. She didn’t engineer an escape from life in the Nether so she could watch films, read comics and snuggle on the sofa with a fellow geek. And it wasn’t just to find freedom—even though that was a big part of it. No, she’d wanted to find a way to make the best use of her mind, the best way to fulfil the potential that Miss Rainer’s lessons had unlocked. The dreams of standing up for those without a voice and making all the difference to their lives had been lost in the panic and the upset and the wrench back into the Nether. There was no way she was going to sit around like bloody Rapunzel hoping that someone would come along and carry her off into Mundanus to resume her studies and pass all those exams. She already knew the mundane path towards fulfilment, impossible in the Nether with all the interference of the Fae and the patriarchal death-grip of the Patroons. It was just a matter of pursuing it.
The wedding ring chinked against the cup and reminded her of the marriage. Short of chopping her own finger off she couldn’t remove it and the curse was offensive as hell but neither stopped her from resuming her studies. Would Will stop her if he knew what she wanted to do? She didn’t know him well enough to predict whether it would be safe to tell him. He’d helped at the party in Aquae Sulis, when she really needed an ally, but that was to save her uncle. Caution was probably the best option whilst she got to know him.
Cathy rose from the table with her body warmed by the hot chocolate and her spirit filled with a renewed sense of purpose. It was time to call Tanya and get the tools she needed for her studies again, call Sam with her new number and then visit the Emporium to see if she could resume her deal with the Shopkeeper. Anything was better than moping about, mourning a relationship that was long gone.
7
Cornelius Alba-Rosa took the stairs two at a time. He knocked on his sister’s bedroom door, two quick raps then two slow ones.
“Come in,” Amelia called.
She was seated at the dressing table, wearing one of her favourite dusky-pink brocade gowns, her dark-brown hair arranged in the style of a classical Greek beauty. Jewellery was strewn on the table and she was holding up a necklace against her throat.
“Hello, darling,” she said. When she saw his reflection she twisted round, dropping the necklace into her lap. “What is it?”
“The Agency found Uncle Alfred.”
She struggled not to weep. “How?”
“They intercepted a message, bribed a servant, I don’t know. But that’s the third Rosa in two days. I’m starting to wonder whether they’re spying on us. I know Uncle Alfred was in touch with the others who were caught. I told my contact to stay away for at least two weeks, just in case any messages we send out lead them to Father.”
“It makes sense. I had no idea they’d be so thorough.”
“I think our enemies are putting pressure on the Agency to round everyone up,” Cornelius said. “They’re all too happy to get behind the Lavandulas’ outrage.”
“Even though most of them hate that family,” Amelia said.
“Not as much as they hated ours, it seems,” Cornelius replied, aware that he was dawdling his way towards delivering the rest of the news.
“If anyone knows how to benefit from disaster, it’s the weasels in the Londinium Court,” Amelia said, no doubt thinking of all the people they’d once dined and danced with, now gloating over their fall.
“There’s something else.” He came closer. “Someone tipped the Agency off about my business in Judd Street. They’ve seized the assets.”
“Can they do that, even if we’ve been taken in by William?”
“Seems they can. William didn’t know about the company, so he couldn’t protect it. Even if he could, it would pass into his name, just like this house.” He watched the flutter of her eyelashes as she blinked away tears.
“It could be worse,” she said. “We could have been taken like everyone else. Better for us to live under William’s protection than be subjected to that life.”
“Is it?” he muttered, and then regretted it. “No, you’re right, of course it is.”
Amelia looked down at the jewels in her lap. “I was trying to decide which necklaces to keep and which ones to set aside, just in case.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Amelia.”
“It’s not your fault. Is that the last of your assets seized?”
“Yes. I’m officially penniless and homeless.”
“Not homeless, darling—we’re still in this house, aren’t we?”
He tried to smile for her, but if he’d been alone he’d have been tempted to weep. He’d come close several times when lying awake in the silent house, wondering what had happened to their mother. The Agency had taken her from a dinner party in Grosvenor Square, dressed in a fine gown and diamonds. He’d heard whispers of what they did to the women, and his fists clenched at the thought of any of those Agency dogs laying a finger on her.
Amelia was putting on a brave face but their situation was dire. It was within William’s rights to revoke his protection and turf them out onto the street on a whim, and for the first time Cornelius knew what it was to be helpless.
“Has William been in touch?” she asked.
“No, I’ve been dealing with his father’s secretary regarding the house and the replacement of the staff.”
She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. “I don’t trust these Iris servants.”
“Neither do I,” he whispered back.
Even though they were still living in the house they’d known for years, having strangers attending to their needs was incredibly unsettling. Amelia was losing weight and neither of them had slept well since the night the Sorcerer destroyed their lives. With William’s help. He couldn’t forget that either.
“He’s getting married today,” she said, fingering the diamonds. “I heard the maids gossiping about it.”
“I don’t envy him having to marry that Papaver girl. She was awful.”
“I don’t suppose I’ll ever see that Oak now,” Amelia said, a tremble in her voice.
“One never knows what the future will bring.” He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. Even though he smiled and kissed the soft skin on the back of her hands, he knew she was right. She was an outcast now, and they both knew her fate.
“Still, I suppose being a mistress is better than the alternative.” She was trying so hard to be strong for him.
“You weren’t born to be a mistress,” he said, the anger building in his chest. “You’re too good for that. You should be Duchess of Londinium, as Mother said you would be.”
“It’s inevitable though, isn’t it?”
He pressed a finger to her lips. His only sister, the one person in the world he trusted completely, buying their limited freedom with her flesh
: that was not something he wanted to talk about.
“I’ll find a way out of this,” he said. “I promise. When all the fuss dies down and Society has a new family to destroy, our allies will come to the surface, I’m sure of it.”
“We don’t have any. If we did, they would have saved Mother.”
“They didn’t have the chance. If Father is managing to stay free, he’s got to have someone helping him. He’s just waiting until it’s safe to make contact; that’s what Uncle Alfred said and I believe it.”
“But look what happened to him.”
“We’re not in the same boat. Besides, our uncle was hardly the sharpest thorn on the stem, was he?”
“I suppose we have a little time.” Amelia kissed his hands back. “William will be away on honeymoon, and then there’s the rest of the Season in Aquae Sulis. He won’t have time to come here.”
“That’s right,” Cornelius said as cheerily as he could manage.
“Do you think he believed Horatio?”
Cornelius silently cursed the Gallica-Rosa for the hundredth time. The way he’d tried to drag him and Amelia down with him had been unforgivable. He’d wondered the same as her in the days since the debacle, and hadn’t come to a firm conclusion. It was possible William believed the claim that he and Amelia had been manipulating him, and still took them in anyway so that he could take Amelia as a mistress. But would a man as capable as William disregard such a betrayal just for guaranteed bedsport?
He looked at his sister, the beauty of Londinium, and suspected that William would. And his own life had probably been saved in order to secure her trust and gratitude. It made the bile rise up his gullet.
“If you can, you need to find out what he thinks,” he said. “We need to keep him on side.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
He pulled her into an embrace so she didn’t see his face twist in disgust. He needed to work out whom he could trust and how the Agency was spying on them. Then he could get a message to his father. If his contact was to be believed, even the most powerful Letterboxer Charms could be intercepted.
The front door slammed and the gentle boom reverberated up the stairs. They exchanged a worried glance, knowing that no one was expected for the evening and their residence was firmly off the social circuit now.
“Not the Agency?” Amelia asked as he let her go and stood up.
“Who else could it be?” He put a hand on his sword.
She dropped the necklace down the front of her bodice, scooped up the jewels, crammed them into the jewellery box and shut the lid as footsteps came up the stairs and down the corridor towards her room.
“I won’t let them take you,” he said, drawing the steel an inch, readying the Charm he’d bought with the diamond cravat pin he’d worn at the last ball.
There was a knock on the door. He dropped the sword back into place, looking at Amelia. The Agency wouldn’t be so polite.
“Amelia?” William called through the door. “Are you in there? May I come in?”
“Perhaps they didn’t marry,” she whispered and pointed at the wardrobe. “Quick!”
Cornelius darted over to it and got inside. He released the catch on the inner secret door that connected to his room before closing the wardrobe and losing the light.
“William?” Amelia called back. “Just a moment.”
Cornelius waited. He wanted to hear what the Iris had to say first-hand, rather than an abridged version next time he and Amelia were alone.
He heard the atomiser and then a moment later smelt the Charmed rosewater even through the wood. The bedroom door was opened and William came inside. Cornelius wondered how he looked and wished he’d left the door open a crack.
“What a lovely surprise,” Amelia said. “I thought it was your wedding day…you certainly appear to be dressed for it.” The bedroom door closed. “Is something wrong? Has—”
She was cut off, for a moment Cornelius wondered if something had frightened her, then he heard the gentle sound of a kiss ending.
“I had to see you,” William said. “I’ve missed you. Are you well? Are the servants to your liking? Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you,” Amelia said with a notable breathlessness. “But why are you here? Did the marriage not take place?”
“Oh, it happened,” William replied, accompanied by the sound of the bedsprings creaking as he sat on the bed. “But I just want to be with you. I want all of you, Amelia. Will you be my mistress? I swear I’ll provide for you and your brother, I’ll keep you both safe. I would have married you if I’d had a choice.”
“I’m hardly a desirable match now,” she said.
“I can’t think of a better word to describe you,” he murmured and they kissed again.
Cornelius battled the urge to burst out of his hiding place and throw William across the room. He buried his face in the silks of Amelia’s dresses as the kiss went on and on. Why wasn’t William with his wife, on tonight of all nights?
“You promise to keep Cornelius safe as well as you care for me?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“And you promise to let us live here, as we always have?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to take the deeds, Father insisted. Don’t see the house as mine; it’s your home, and Cornelius’s too.” He punctuated every two words with a kiss. Cornelius’s fingers twitched at the thought of throttling him.
“Then yes, William, I’m yours.”
Cornelius couldn’t listen any more. He pushed the secret door open and left his sister to her fate, with only silent promises of revenge to keep the rage in check.
Sam watched Cathy pale to the point when he wondered if she was going to faint—if that was even possible sitting down. “Oh, fuck.”
He took a long gulp of beer. She’d told him she’d been married off that day and narrowly avoided having to consummate a marriage to a man she hardly knew. For him to dump Lord Poppy’s message on top made him feel worse than shit. At least he’d been in London, on the way to see Leanne, when she’d called with her new number.
“Are you sure he said by the next new moon?”
“Yeah. It’s twenty-eight days. I checked.”
“Shit. I can’t paint.”
“I’m so sorry. I really thought I could save them.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said after what seemed like an eternity. “You didn’t exactly come away unscathed. How the hell did you get there without me or the Sorcerer?”
He told her about the strange tree and the faerie who’d found him there. She shook her head. “They were watching for you, maybe cast some magic to draw you in, maybe even put the idea in your head in the first place. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“At least I can get to the edge of Exilium by myself.”
“You can?” She listened intently as he described the iron and copper pillar. “I have no idea what that’s about. Doesn’t change the fact Poppy has us both over a barrel. We are royally fucked here. There’s no other way to put it.”
Sam just nodded.
“Well…I suppose it puts this marriage into perspective,” Cathy said, picking up her beer. “It’s the last thing I’m worried about now.”
“Will you be OK? Can anyone help you? Can I do anything?”
She took several gulps and put the glass down. “Bloody hell, that’s gone straight to my head. No…I’ll think of something. There must be a Charm…I need to go.”
“Take care, Cathy, and I’m sorry.”
“Just keep in touch,” she said. “I’ll check for messages whenever I can. And Sam? Don’t try and be heroic again, OK?”
Sam finished his beer and then hers. It was time to go to the apartment and focus on the other thing he’d fucked up beyond recognition: his marriage.
He twisted his wedding ring as the lift to the fifteenth floor climbed. Free from the burden of passing on Poppy’s message, he was now worrying about the
call from his boss saying that he had to be in work at 8.30am on Monday with a damn good explanation for his repeated absences.
He was impressed by the building but a little intimidated. It was all shiny floors, glass and steel, the antithesis of their cosy Victorian terraced house in Bath. There was a concierge, which comforted him as he didn’t like the thought of Leanne being alone in London. At least there was someone there to make sure dodgy people didn’t come in.
The interior designers were too fond of metallic finishes for his taste. When he got to the door of the new apartment there were strips of burnished copper riveted to it in something they probably thought was an artful design. To him, it looked like a flattened basket with a warped horseshoe floating above it.
He hadn’t really seen Leanne since they’d argued about her taking the job. He’d been pulled away from home by Ekstrand’s interference and she’d been working all hours as usual. When she moved up to the flat it had been strangely insignificant as she’d only taken a couple of cases of clothes and left the house as it had always been. Sam wasn’t happy about the move and the way she’d avoided any discussion about it but didn’t feel he had the right to complain. That chance had passed and he had to adapt, otherwise their marriage would totally fall apart.
Even though she was expecting him, Sam’s hand lingered just above the door. Should he pretend everything was fine or make it clear they needed to at least talk about the upheaval? Would she be cold and still angry with him about the way he’d ignored her calls whilst she’d been in Brussels? He couldn’t explain to her the reasons behind his recent absences, any more than he could to his boss. Perhaps it was better just to move forwards, rather than say anything that would prompt awkward questions he wouldn’t be able to answer.
He finally knocked on the door and Leanne opened it quickly, having been informed of his arrival by the concierge.
“This is a surprise,” she said, all smiles. “Couldn’t wait?”
“What do you mean?” he asked and pecked her on the cheek she angled towards him. Hardly the passionate kiss of a couple who hadn’t seen each other properly for what seemed like weeks.
