by Eva Chase
He paused several feet shy of the entrance, his body tensed. Then a woman emerged—a woman with wavy red hair an even darker shade than Jude’s, her belly rounded with pregnancy.
His mother, I realized. She lit up with a wobbly smile when she saw him, as if she wasn’t any more sure of his welcome than he appeared to be sure how to give it. She walked toward him tentatively and reached to take his hands. After a few exchanges, she tugged him closer and gave him the tightest hug she was capable of at her size.
I started to feel weird about watching, but as I pushed myself onward, Jude stepped back and happened to glance my way. He waved me over, his posture much more relaxed than it’d been when I’d first spotted him.
The tightening of his mother’s expression when she saw me suggested she recognized who I was—and that she hadn’t had the best experiences with Bloodstones in the past. But it was only a fleeting reaction, and then she was giving me a little bob of her head as Jude introduced us.
“Rory, meet my mother. Mom, this is Rory Bloodstone. And also my girlfriend.” His grin widened as he said that last bit.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mrs. Killbrook said in a soft voice, and offered me her hand.
The woman had just lost her husband a couple days ago—in a confrontation that had been kind of my fault. I grappled with my words for a second before saying, “The same to you. And I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yes. Well.” Her gaze dropped for a second, too many conflicting emotions for me to follow washing over her face. Her hand came to rest on her belly.
“She decided she was better off with us, now that—now that ‘Dad’ is gone,” Jude said, a bit of strain creeping into his voice.
His mother clasped his hand again. “You’re my family. I should be here. Maybe I should have come sooner…” She rubbed her face. “We have a lot to talk through, obviously.”
Jude turned on the cheer again. “And thankfully we have all kinds of time, seeing as I’m not good for a whole lot these days other than talking. Come on—let’s find someplace you can get off your feet.”
I shot him a smile before he turned away, even though the self-deprecating comment pained me. Jude might not be using his diminished magical ability as an excuse to go off on suicide missions anymore, but I didn’t think remarks like that were all in good humor. The loss might never stop rankling him.
And seeing him walking his mother toward Killbrook Hall sent a different sort of twinge through my chest. Baron Killbrook had been the main villain in Jude’s life, but I knew he’d had plenty of frustrations with his mother too—for going along with the baron’s plans, for keeping the secret of his parentage from Jude, for letting her husband treat him as if he were unworthy for so long.
But in the midst of tragedy, they were coming together. Maybe he’d find some kind of peace in this. Was I ever going to have any kind of peace with my birth mother?
My throat constricted with an ache that ran down through my chest. I continued on toward the dorm building, but after I’d handed Morgan’s book over to her and put away the food, I went into my bedroom, cast a silencing spell around the space to ensure my voice didn’t travel, and got out my phone.
For a few minutes, I just looked at the device in my hand. What were the chances this would make any difference? I’d tried to talk to her so many times.
But what could it hurt to try again? In spite of everything, she was my mother. The only parent of any kind I had who was still living. I didn’t really want to lose her.
As I made the call, my fingers closed around the glass dragon charm that the mother I’d already lost had given me. The silence of the room around me seemed to expand with each ring on the other end. The points on the charm dug into my palm.
There was a click, and my mother said in an even voice, “Persephone. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you after all this.”
“Mom,” I started, and didn’t know what to say next. What could I say, really, when I’d turned my back on her the last time we’d seen each other? When she still refused to call me by the name I’d claimed as my own?
“Well? I assume there’s a reason for this call.” A hint of her obvious anger bled through.
I swallowed hard. “I just wanted to talk to you. I—I don’t want to fight. I never wanted us to have to fight.”
“Then you’ve made some very odd choices.”
“You’ve made some choices that hurt people I care about.” I paused and dragged in a breath. Making accusations didn’t feel like the right direction. “I know you don’t feel totally right about this situation. I know you weren’t happy seeing that little boy killed in town because the mages on patrol got overzealous. Don’t you think that’s going to happen again, over and over, if we try to maintain control like that over so many more Naries?”
“A baron doesn’t let her personal sensitivities sway her judgment when it comes to serving her people,” my mother said. “A lesson you clearly haven’t learned yet. Along with the lesson that a Bloodstone always stands with her own kind.”
“If you’d meet me halfway, I’d be happy to stand with you,” I couldn’t help saying, my voice dipping with the words. “I want to learn all the things you can teach me. If we could have just focused on that…”
“I tried.” A ragged note came into my mother’s tone. “But the most important thing you need to understand is what we deserve as fearmancers, what we owe ourselves and each other, and you’ve made it clear you don’t understand that at all. That you don’t want to understand it.” She paused, and some of the anger faded. “If you’d come back—I’m not turning you away, Persephone. This is your choice. I can still show you. We can still build this future together.”
The offer held enough hope that my stomach twisted. I closed my eyes. “It’s not the future I want. I’d come and see what we could work out… if you and Baron Nightwood agreed to back off on setting the Naries at each other’s throats until we’ve come up with a plan we can all support. That’s all I’ve ever wanted; I swear it.”
She sighed. “It’s too late for that now. The balls are already in motion. If we pull back now, we may never regain that momentum. Can’t you simply trust me?”
No, I couldn’t. I never had, though I wouldn’t dig the knife deeper by saying that. “I have to trust my own judgment too, Mom. And it’s telling me that what you’re doing is going to hurt so many more people than it helps. Why is this plan so important to you that you’d put it over our family?”
“That’s what you refuse to accept,” she said, her voice going taut. “This is for you, not against you. Do you have any idea— I watched for so long, as my father and my grandmother did before me. We saw how our people make themselves smaller to fit our lives around these feeble beings who are capable of so much less than we are. I made promises to those people that I would change things. My imprisonment set back those plans for far too long. I have to make good on them now.”
“No, you don’t,” I protested. “There are plenty of people who don’t want any of it. You’re allowed to change your mind.”
“I keep my promises. I know what loyalty is.” I heard her swallow. “I wouldn’t deserve to be baron if I went back on everything I meant to achieve for us now out of weakness.”
I couldn’t help trying one more time. “It’s not weakness; it’s recognizing that sometimes what seemed like a good idea in theory isn’t working out in practice. Haven’t you seen—the actions you and the other barons have been taking are already destroying your own pentacle! If you ignore that, you’re not being strong. You’re ignoring what’s true. If you can’t acknowledge that, how do you deserve to rule anyone?”
My mother’s tone turned icy in an instant. “If that’s the way you still see things, there’s no point in continuing this conversation. I will show you, on a larger scale. I’ll force you to see how weak the feebs are, how ridiculous it is that we have to hide from them. And then you’d better be prepared to earn my forgiveness fo
r turning your back on our family.”
She disconnected the call without giving me a chance to respond, leaving me clutching the phone as the dial tone droned in my ear, not sure whether I’d just made things even worse than they’d been before.
Chapter Eighteen
Malcolm
Shadow might have been able to pick up on the tensions around campus through my emotions, but he didn’t let that get in the way of playtime. My wolf familiar bounded around the field, eagerly awaiting the next toss of the conjured ball I’d given to Agnes for her to join in the game.
My sister laughed and flung the shimmering sphere across the grass. As soon as it bounced on the ground, it leapt up in the shape of a rabbit. With an eager pant, Shadow sprang after it. He pounced, only to have the image dissolve under his feet, but he looked around as if determined that he’d catch one sooner or later rather than resentful.
I nudged Agnes’s arm. “We should let him get some real hunting in now. He’ll come around for more attention when he’s gotten his fill.”
“All right,” she said with a hint of a pout, but her lips curved back into a smile as she watched me direct Shadow toward the woods. He loped off between the trees like a living representation of his name. The brilliant autumn leaves overhead rustled with a passing breeze that licked cool over our faces.
Agnes’s gaze turned distant. “I’ll be able to have a familiar soon. You got Shadow as soon as your magic came, didn’t you?”
“About a month after, so pretty much.” I glanced at her. “It’s a big decision, even if you go with a smaller animal. They live longer than they regularly would because of the magical connection, and it’s not something you can easily break, so you want to be sure of your choice.”
“I know.” She lifted her head, the fading sunlight making her hair gleam gold, looking more confident than I ever remembered seeing her back home. Just a matter of days away from our parents had changed her that much. “I’ve had lots of time to think about it while I wait for my magic to kick in. Nightwoods usually get their powers close to their birthday, don’t they?”
“For me it took two weeks,” I said. “Mom and Dad weren’t surprised by that. I don’t think you have to worry.”
“It still feels like ages. Assuming I even make it past my fifteenth birthday without Mom and Dad killing me for running off on them.”
She said that last bit dryly, but she kicked at the grass at the same moment, a little of the familiar nervous hunch coming back into her shoulders. The damage they’d already done couldn’t be completely healed in a week or two of freedom.
“They won’t,” I said smoothly. “Because they’re going to want to kill me even more, and they’ve got to keep at least one of us around.”
A giggle tumbled out of her before she could catch it. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh about that. You’re going to be in a lot of trouble for helping me leave… and everything else, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “If they get the chance to do anything about it. At this point, I’m perfectly happy to never go home until the barony passes to me.”
“Do you really think we can manage that? How long can we actually hold out here?”
That was a good question, one I’d hoped she wouldn’t be thoughtful enough to ask. But my sister was clearly sharper than I’d given her much credit for when she’d been living under my parents’ thumb. It was hard to grow up in their presence without learning to consider all the angles and potential consequences. I’d certainly had those habits beaten into me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Dad and Baron Bloodstone must have their hands full keeping their allies happy and sure of them now that it’s down to just him and her. We might be okay here for a while.”
“But they’ve also got to be incredibly pissed off at all of us for defying them. They won’t want to let us get away with it.”
“No.” I grimaced. “And our current living situation is obviously just temporary. But we’re going to keep fighting their plans, and if we can stop them before they see those through to the end, then we’ll be in a much better position. We’ll have proven that they can’t ignore the laws and charge ahead despite people’s protests. We’ll have the majority of the pentacle on our side. But to get there… it might take a lot more fighting. I’m not sure how far we’ll have to go to manage to push them back.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes flashed, and she pulled her posture straight again. “I know you got me out of the house because you wanted me to be safer, but I realize things are going to get dangerous if we’re really going to make a difference. Even more than they already are. That’s okay. You—you always took the worst of it because Dad expected more from you. I shouldn’t get to take it easy while you keep sticking your neck out for both of us and everyone else here. Maybe I’m not going to be baron, but I don’t want to see our community ruined either.”
Her words stirred up the thoughts I’d been having ever since Connar and Declan had brought their brothers in as nearly joint-scions—ever since the five of us who’d originally made up that pentacle had started discussing how we’d change things if we got the chance. It’d been hard to picture how Agnes would fit into that dynamic when I hadn’t spent much time with her since I’d started classes at Blood U. But looking at her now, listening to her, I had no qualms about bringing the idea up.
“You know,” I said, “the other scions and I have been talking about making some changes about how the pentacle will work in the future. To make things more balanced, and to try to cut out the infighting that keeps happening within our families, and just to give us all more freedom.”
Agnes gave me a curious look. “What kind of changes?”
“Well… that we might share the spots at the table and rule together with other heirs rather than one baron having all the authority. Connar and Holden could stand together, Declan and his brother, Rory and her cousin, we’d have to see how the Killbrook situation works out—and you and I could work together.”
Her look turned into a stare. For a few seconds, she stood there speechless. When she found her voice, it came out hushed. “You’d actually—you’d want to share the barony with me?”
Her startled awe brought a crooked smile to my face, full of affection that she respected me enough to see me as the ultimate authority and regret that I hadn’t stepped in more to help her see how much she could offer.
“You’d have some catching up to do on policies and how to present yourself and all that,” I said. “Although I’m sure simply living with our parents gave you a decent grounding. And who knows when we’ll be in the position to take over anyway. But yeah. Having all the responsibility isn’t a piece of cake, you know. You’d be helping me as much as I’m doing you any favors.”
“Anything I can do to help. Then or now. That would—wow.” She drew in a breath and appeared to compose herself. Yeah, the Nightwood instincts hadn’t passed her by. “It’d be an honor to take on those responsibilities.”
I gave her a light cuff to the shoulder. “Keep on like that, and you’re off to a good start. Ready to grab some dinner?”
We headed back toward the green and Killbrook Hall, where even the seniors had taken to eating most of their meals in the junior cafeteria now that any trip beyond the boundaries of campus was a risk. I’d never eaten much there to begin with, always taking advantage of the family chef’s willingness to send regular meals, and I had to admit I’d been shunning it for no good reason. Ms. Grimsworth knew how to pick her cooks.
There was less variety than usual on offer now that some of the staff had left with the announcement that the university was a safe zone for dissenters, but I could live with that. Tonight we were choosing between filet mignon and shrimp linguine. I asked for a steak and Agnes for the pasta, and when we had our plates we picked one of the emptier tables to sit at. Other than a bunch of juniors chattering in one corner and a cluster of girls who looked intent in their current conversati
on, it was mostly Naries in the place right now.
I’d only taken my first bite when a tall, slightly pudgy guy with a leaf pin on his collar came over and stopped by the seat beside Agnes. From the width of his shoulders and the sparse but visible five o’clock shadow creeping across his jaw, I figured he had to be about my age, but the meekness of his posture made him seem younger. He stood there for a moment, just blinking and apparently working up the courage to speak.
“You’re one of the—what they call the scions, right?” he said in a throaty voice much deeper than I’d have expected given his shyness.
“I am,” I said, resisting the urge to raise a questioning eyebrow or make any other move that would set him more off-balance. I might not have any desire to see the Naries hurt, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be hassled by them either. Still, I could play nice. It wasn’t their fault they were stuck in this awful situation.
“Well, I—” He gripped the back of the chair so tightly his knuckles blanched. “I had an idea. For making it harder for the people you’re trying to stop to mess with our politicians and all. This girl in my program said that’s what’s going on and that the rest of you are hoping to get in their way.”
I hadn’t realized the nonmagical students were picking up on that many details—but after seeing how so many of the fearmancers here had treated them when they’d been given free rein, maybe it wasn’t hard to guess what was going on in the wider world. Or maybe Rory had been sharing more than I’d ever have felt comfortable doing.
She would have wanted me to find out more, even if I couldn’t figure out how this timid kid could possibly challenge the most powerful fearmancers out there. I studied him as I cut off another piece of my steak. “What’s the idea? And what would you need to pull it off?”
