The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I stared down at the orb. I wasn’t so sure. The story had too many holes in it. Ayesha was hardly stupid. She wouldn’t do something that would risk her position. Akin might go down, but she’d go down too. Unless ... she might have gambled he’d keep his mouth shut. Men were strange creatures. The thought of being publicly humiliated, of being zapped by the kissing curse ... I remembered what I’d done to Brantley and tasted bile. It didn’t seem so funny now.

  And a lot of people would think he’d deserved it, I thought, numbly. I knew the spell. The prefects had taught me, when I’d started to mature. It was the simplest way to stop a man in his tracks if he got a little too passionate. The kissing curse needs a kiss to work.

  I didn’t want to know the answer to the next question, but I had to ask. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I expect you to have a word or two with Ayesha,” Malachi said. “Tell her ... tell her she can either go along with my demands or that recording will be released. And that will be the end for her.”

  My heart twisted. Ayesha - and her twin sister - were not exactly my friends, but ... they didn’t deserve to be blackmailed. Or did they ...? Akin wouldn’t find the recording very funny, nor would his family. Nor would Caitlyn. I’d seen them together. They genuinely liked each other. The recording would break them up and ... Ayesha would find herself with a very powerful enemy, one with the skills to shatter House McDonald. Her family would disown her. They’d have no choice. And she’d be sent into exile ...

  I wondered, insanely, if Malachi was bluffing. His family would be affected ... if, of course, he was a real Rubén. I wished I knew. He didn’t need more enemies ... I wondered, suddenly, if there’d be any proof of his involvement. It would be me who’d show the memory to Ayesha ... Francis could have bragged to me or anyone or ... my thoughts ran in mad circles. I was trapped. I wanted to beg, but I already knew it would be useless. Malachi would enjoy it, then order me to go ahead anyway.

  “I’ll want to see your memory afterwards,” Malachi added, smoothly. He lowered his voice. “And if you cooperate, you’ll be rewarded.”

  I ground my teeth. I hadn’t even considered bluffing, perhaps trying to recruit Ayesha and Zeya to help me. They would have made powerful allies ... I thought about trying anyway, but Malachi was one step ahead. There was no way I could recruit them without risking my entire family. I was caught in a trap of my own making.

  “I don’t want to see you disgraced,” Malachi said. He sounded almost kind, but his face told a different story. “You’re far more use to me in High Society than anywhere else.”

  “Thank you,” I said, sourly. I wasn’t fooled. He’d make use of me until I was no longer useful, then leave me hopelessly compromised. Ayesha and Zeya would hate me ... everyone would. “I’ll do my best for you.”

  Malachi reached out and patted my hand in an almost fatherly manner. “We’ll do great things together, you and I.”

  My skin crawled.

  Malachi stood. “Tell her I want a thousand crowns before the end of the week,” he said, with a shrug. I had the feeling the money meant nothing to him. It was just a way to test his control. “Or else.”

  I watched him leave, then fled to the private washroom to throw up.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I was in something of a daze for the rest of the day.

  If he’d asked me to blackmail Marlene, I might have done it without much hesitation. I simply didn’t like Marlene. She’d been nothing but horrid to me for six years. She deserved everything she got, and then some. And yet ... my thoughts churned as I trudged back to the hall, endlessly mocking me. I hadn’t liked Ayesha McDonald that much - she had the arrogance of someone who’d never been sent away from the city, of someone who had no money worries at all - but ... did she deserve to be blackmailed?

  And what, I asked myself, will happen if I go through with it?

  My imagination painted a grim picture. I’d turn Ayesha, not to mention her sister, into enemies for life. Maybe the threat of her secret being revealed would stay her hand, maybe it wouldn’t. And if she lashed out at me ... I shuddered as I contemplated the possibilities. There’d be no proof linking me to Malachi. I’d take the brunt of her vengeance ... hell, if the truth came out, she’d have no reason to hold back. She’d have every right to take revenge in whatever manner she deemed fit.

  And yet ... what if I refused?

  I shook my head. I knew the answer to that. Malachi had me over a barrel. If he revealed my secret, I’d go down and the family would go down with me. My thoughts ran in circles. Malachi could have demanded anything from me, anything at all. He could have ordered me to walk through North Shallot as naked as the day I was born and I’d have had to comply or risk losing everything. No, I would lose everything. I didn’t have the wealth or power to survive my mistakes.

  He won’t push matters that far, I told myself. It felt like wishful thinking. People would ask questions if they saw me walking naked.

  I snorted at the thought as I reached the hall and walked up the driveway. The Grande Dames would raise their eyebrows if I showed more than a hint of cleavage or raised my dress above the ankle. Even showing my knees would bring the most astringent remarks and brutal social exclusion. I was an adult now, a peer of the city. If I walked naked through the streets, people would ask why. Malachi knew better than to attract that sort of attention. Who knew what’d happen? The Grande Dames might take my side.

  The driveway twisted, revealing the hall. A handful of wagons sat outside, a team of workmen carrying supplies for Ayesha and Zeya’s parties into the hall. I felt my heart clench as I passed a pair of men unloading a smaller wagon, wondering if any of them could be trusted. They weren’t family retainers. They’d been hired for the party. They might be spies ... Malachi’s spies. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that Malachi had approached me shortly before I’d have the perfect opportunity to speak to Ayesha in private. He had someone in her hall, someone who’d spotted me ... I swallowed, hard. Who could I trust? I didn’t know.

  Jadish met me as I stepped into the hall, clipboard in hand. “My Lady, we have nearly all of the supplies packed away now. We’ll start decorating the hall later today.”

  “Good,” I said. I felt another stab of paranoia. Could I trust Jadish? Could I trust anyone? She’d been a friend, once upon a time, but people changed. “Is there anything that requires my attention?”

  “Merely the question of selecting a secondary host,” Jadish said. “You may have to speak to Lady Dorcas personally.”

  I shook my head as it dawned on me that Auntie Dorcas was the last person I wanted anywhere near the party. She was far too perceptive ... and old, really. I hadn’t given the matter any thought, but I should have done. Ayesha and Zeya wouldn’t want her anywhere near either. They’d see her as a spy, reporting back to the Grande Dames. I could believe it. Auntie Dorcas wanted to be one of them. My lips quirked, humourlessly. It was funny how far people would go to be one of the in-group. A particularly cunning and unpleasant social queen could keep someone dangling on a string through constantly moving the goalposts.

  Welcome to High Society, I thought, with a flicker of insight. It’s just like school.

  Jadish cleared her throat. “My Lady?”

  “Give me a moment,” I said.

  I thought, fast. I needed a co-host. I didn’t have anyone from my own family who was suitable, yet ... there weren’t many others who fitted the bill who’d come through for me. Ayesha and Zeya were out. They needed plausible deniability, even though everyone would know what they’d done. I rolled my eyes at the sheer absurdity of it, then smiled as a thought struck me. I knew the perfect person.

  “We have a messenger on call, don’t we?” I didn’t wait for her answer. “Send a note to Marlene of House Bouquet. Ask her if she wants to be co-host.”

  Jadish looked surprised, but clearly didn’t want to question me. I wondered, not for the first time, just what’d happened while I’d
been away. The Jadish I remembered had had few qualms about asking questions, when she’d wanted to know. But then, that Jadish had been a child. Her older self had been raised to serve the aristocracy. I felt a sense of ... unease. I’d met commoners who’d been brilliant, who’d been given opportunities denied to the rest of their class. Did Jadish feel she could have made something of herself, if she’d been given the chance? Did she harbour the kind of resentment that might lead her to betray me?

  I watched her hurry off, then walked slowly up to my office. My thoughts mocked me. I’d never questioned the aristocracy before. Why should I? My family - and the other Great Houses - had built the city, safeguarded it through the chaos after the empire fell and ensured we’d enjoy a degree of independence after the kingdom took shape and steadied itself. It was right that we continued to rule, absorbing the best and brightest of the commoners into our ranks. And yet, we couldn’t absorb them all. Jadish was bright - we’d shared lessons - but my family hadn’t turned her into a client or sent her to school. My heart twisted, painfully. My friend might have had a very different life from mine.

  We’re not the same any longer, I reflected. We couldn’t be friends, not now. It would reflect badly on both of us. We’re not children.

  I passed through the office door, feeling discomfited. Jadish had been lucky. There’d been girls at school who bragged, openly, of tormenting the servants. I’d thought their stories funny ... Kate hadn’t. I understood, now. The servants had been powerless, helpless to resist hexes and curses from aristocratic brats. Or ... I remembered Malachi forcing me to kneel, to kiss his boot, and felt sick. If I hadn’t already emptied my stomach, I would have thrown up again. I knew what it was like, now. I knew all too well.

  The pile of envelopes on my desk mocked me. I glared at them, feeling the insane urge to simply pick the letters up and throw them into the fireplace. The seals on the envelopes were worst me. I knew what they’d say. Notes of congratulations, offers of deals, party invitations ... none of them would have been sent if the senders knew what I’d done. The stream would dry up, the moment the truth came out. Everyone would pretend they didn’t know me, that they’d never known me. The newspaper accounts of the parties I’d held would be stricken from the record. Mistress Grayling would tell the world she’d never had a pupil like me. And everything I’d built would vanish ...

  I sat and stared down at my hands. Malachi had built a neat little trap. I couldn’t enlist Ayesha in a plot to stop him, not if he wanted to review my memories afterwards. I wasn’t even sure how he intended to do that. Truth spells? I’d never heard of a truth spell that could bring out someone’s memories. And yet ... my eyes wandered to the sealed drawer where I’d hid the memory orb. He’d done it. I didn’t know how, but he’d done it. I couldn’t hope to trick him until I knew what he actually did.

  The orb was hidden, but its mere presence tantalised and tormented me. Malachi had hinted I’d be working with him, that he could help me rebuild the family fortune. It would be a castle built on sand - or, rather, on swampland - but it was tempting. I might be part of High Society, yet I disliked it. The snooty older women, the sneering older men, the brats - male and female - who spent money recklessly in the certain knowledge their parents would pay the debts ... I disliked them. The thought of making them suffer by revealing their secrets was thrilling. I was tempted. Yes, I was. The idea of making Marlene and her peers twist ...

  My stomach heaved. It was wrong, no better than an upperclassman hexing a firstie for giggles. It wouldn’t be a solid victory, in a game where the rules were well-understood by everyone; it wouldn’t even be a piece of cunning so astute that the entire world would be lost in admiration even as they hated me. It would be sordid, horrible beyond words. And I would be forever tainted by what I’d done. The house of cards would collapse, eventually. My family would collapse with it.

  And it rested on Malachi. I shuddered, helplessly. I only knew one thing about him, one thing for sure, but it was a nightmare. He’d enjoyed exerting power over me, making me humiliate myself. There was no way I could rely on him to keep his word. He might promise me the world, but he’d snatch it back the moment I was no longer useful. Or when it would be funny. I had a sudden vision of me being framed for his crimes, of being branded the true blackmailer while Malachi absented himself. I had no doubt he was already preparing a fallback position. He could flee the city at any moment, assuming a new name and identity while I took the fall.

  So I play along, for the moment, I thought. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had. I play along long enough to get the drop on him.

  There was a knock at the door. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and opened the door with a spell. Uncle Jalil stepped into the room, his eyes grim. I felt my heart sink. It wasn’t good news. I was morbidly sure of it.

  “I haven’t found much, not yet,” Uncle Jalil said. “I may have to go to an information broker.”

  I winced. “You don’t have any accountants you can trust?”

  “The accountants I know are all bound by oaths of perpetual secrecy,” Uncle Jalil said, rather severely. “They may be able to discuss rumours with me, they may not. Furthermore” - his voice hardened - “asking questions may create waves. I don’t think we want to be noticed.”

  “No.” I looked down at the table. “But we’re running out of time.”

  “Really?” Uncle Jalil frowned. “What happened?”

  I braced myself, then told him about Malachi’s instructions. He listened, his face growing pale as I explained what had happened. The memory orb felt impossibly heavy in my pocket. I held it out, letting him see the memory. His lips grew thinner as he watched it twice. I felt numb, as if I’d gone too far to care. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to fake my death and run.

  “Interesting,” Uncle Jalil said. “I notice there’s no actual proof.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The first orb, the one featuring you, shows you committing a criminal act,” Uncle Jalil said, slowly. “This one is nothing more than a recitation of a story. It may not be true.”

  “It feels real,” I said. “I think ...”

  “I have no doubt that the memory itself is real,” Uncle Jalil said. “But all the memory really shows is a young man telling a tall tale to an elder man. It may not be true. I could tell you a lie about my schooldays, Lucy, and you wouldn’t know I was lying.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. I stared at the orb. If the memory was false ... no, if Francis had been lying ... I shook my head. It didn’t matter. The memory of me was real. I had to assume the second memory was real too. And yet ... Ayesha might just laugh in my face. She might know it was a lie. Akin might know it was a lie too. “I ...”

  I forced myself to think. Malachi might be setting me up for public humiliation. But why? It made no sense. He’d gain nothing from destroying what little I had overnight. I simply wouldn’t be useful to him, afterwards. And I’d have every reason to expose him in revenge. But ... if he’d been lied to himself, he might have accidentally set me on a course towards destruction. If the story wasn’t true ...

  It would be insanely stupid of her to risk a clash with the two most powerful families in the city, to say nothing of making personal enemies out of both Akin and Caitlyn, I told myself. But how many stupid things did I do at school?

  I stared at the orb, then returned it to my pocket. I’d done a lot of stupid things at school. I’d done a lot of cruel things at school. And I’d been far from the worst. I knew girls who’d cursed each other, who’d betrayed each other, who’d subjected everyone they considered beneath them to humiliations abhorrent to a sane and decent mind. I could believe someone, mad at a boy, might just set him up for social destruction. Ayesha might have thought she could get away with it. The mere fact that nothing had happened to her suggested Akin had no interest in making the matter public either.

  Because he’d look like a boob, I thought. Getting caught sneaking into t
he girls' locker room would be bad enough. Getting caught in the locker room because someone had trapped him there would be infinitely worse. And the way it had been done ... I felt sick. I’d known boys who would sooner crawl across broken glass than admit they’d been hit with the kissing curse. Caitlyn and her family would be utterly unamused when they found out.

  I swallowed. “I have to assume there’s some truth to the story,” I said. “And I have to go through with it.”

  “So it seems.” Uncle Jalil took a step back. “With your permission, I’ll approach an information broker. We may have to pay a steep price.”

  “It’s worth it,” I said. “See what else you can offer, as well as money. Something he wouldn’t be able to get normally.”

  Uncle Jalil snorted. “We have very little to offer, and you know it.”

  There was another knock on the door before I could come up with a response. I opened it with a spell. Jadish stepped into the room, looking harassed. I frowned, remembering my earlier thoughts. When this was over, if it was ever over, I’d have to do something for her. I just didn’t know what. I could ask her what she wanted, if it was something in my power, but I had no idea if she’d give me an honest answer. She might want something unreasonable.