Amid Wind and Stone

by Nicole Luiken

  Stung, Audrey lifted her chin. The only good thing that had come of the whole fiasco was her new haircut. Her mother had sent for a talented hairdresser, who’d taken her chopped mop and shaped it into a wavy mass of curls that Audrey had privately thought looked very fetching.

  Did she look like a boy? Prior to the garden party, Audrey’s maid had laced her into a steel-boned corset that bit into her ribs every time she tried to bend over. It also pushed up her bosom, but compared to Frederica, she was as flat as a board.

  Frederica was ravishingly beautiful in her sapphire blue afternoon dress with gold lace at the collar and sleeves.

  Her twin, Franklin, was every bit as beautiful in a matching blue jacket and snowy white cravat. They shared the same dark skin, dark eyes, and long lashes. But while Frederica spent hours under the hot tongs, first straightening out the kinks, then recurling her long hair, Franklin just kept his springy curls cropped short.

  Franklin could be good company, but only in Frederica’s absence. He was obsessed with falconry and would rattle along about it for hours. Audrey had only a mild interest in the subject, but it was still ten times better than the polite inquiries after her health and boring chitchat about the weather that he restricted himself to around Frederica. As if Donlon’s weather was ever anything other than windy.

  Audrey disliked Frederica because of the constant digs and put-downs she spouted, but she resented Frederica most of all for the way she ruthlessly controlled all conversation.

  Franklin dutifully bowed over Audrey’s hand, then turned to his companion. “May I introduce my friend Piers Tennyson?”

  Audrey nodded courteously. “Mr. Tennyson.”

  Piers had slicked-back brown hair, except for one wayward lock that had escaped at his brow. His eyes were pale gray and full of humor. He was clean shaven, eschewing the sideburns Franklin was attempting to cultivate. But where Franklin was liquidly beautiful, Piers had a more masculine face. And, if his jacket wasn’t padded, more muscular arms and chest, too.

  “Lady Audrey,” he murmured back. “I must beg to disagree with Lady Frederica. I find your curls charming.”

  His lips brushed the back of her hand, giving her a tingle. Her breath came a little faster.

  Maybe this garden party wouldn’t be dead dull, after all.

  “Audrey, dear, why don’t you take the younger folk on a tour of the gardens?” her mother suggested. White wicker chairs and two tables of refreshments had been set up amongst the flower beds in the first atrium. The ladies buzzed around the lemonade and tiny iced cakes like bees.

  “Of course,” Audrey said. Piers gallantly took her arm as they promenaded down the gravel path. It was all so silly—as if their gardens looked much different than the Hendersons’ or Konigs’ or anyone else’s gardens.

  But perhaps she was wrong, because Piers inhaled sharply when they exited the hothouse and entered the large glass bubble dome housing the orchard. Vegetables, being judged unaesthetic, had been tucked away out of sight. A variety of trees and bushes shaded the aisles. The trickling of the nutrient bath that ran over the roots of the plants competed with the faint rattle of the turning windmills outside. Her mother had installed benches periodically along the winding path.

  “Are those fruit trees?” Piers asked.

  “Yes. Apples and pears and cherries. The cherries are just ripening if you’d like to try some. They’re Mother’s pride and joy.”

  “But how—? Why don’t they topple over?”

  He really must be poor. Audrey explained kindly, “The garden has been here for generations. We’ve built up enough soil out of composted leaves to anchor the tree roots.” Since Donlon was situated on a rocky mountain peak with no soil, very little grew without care and cultivation. She showed him the deep pots where the trees sat. “We have to trim them back, of course; otherwise, they’ll try to break out of their containers. And we still use hydroponic wheels for the vegetables.”

  Piers shook his head in wonder.

  Since he seemed too awed, she reached up and plucked a cluster of cherries. She handed three to him but popped the last one in her mouth. The fruit tasted sweet and delicious, but she flushed, at a loss for what to do with the pit.

  Piers saved her, passing her a plain white handkerchief. She discreetly spit the seed into it, then handed it back. He did the same, then casually stuck it back in his pocket.

  Audrey relaxed. She was glad he wasn’t stuffy.

  He smiled at her. “You’ve got some juice just here.” His thumb wiped the corner of her bottom lip.

  She was blushing when Frederica and Franklin rounded the turn and caught up to them. Frederica’s eyes narrowed.

  Oh, dear. Audrey doubted Frederica had any true interest in Piers—Frederica would never marry someone who couldn’t drape her in jewels—but she hated not being the center of attention.

  “What have you two been up to?” Frederica asked archly. “You look like naughty children, caught with your hand in the cookie jar.”

  “Just having a taste of cherries,” Audrey said, forcing a smile. She had nothing to feel guilty over. “You’re welcome to do the same.”

  “Cherries!” Franklin’s face lit up, and he helped himself to a cluster.

  “You’ll stain your suit,” Frederica told him. “Cherries are so messy.” She wrinkled her nose.

  And heaven forfend Frederica had one speck on her perfect clothes.

  Franklin ignored his sister and ate several.

  “So how are you two acquainted?” Audrey asked, glancing between Franklin and Piers.

  Franklin coughed into his fist. “Well…”

  Audrey laughed. “I can guess what that means. You met at the mews. How is Kesia doing?” Kesia was Franklin’s falcon, and he practically lived at the mews where the birds were kept.

  “She took a red grouse on the first pass yesterday, as neat as you please.”

  Frederica rolled her eyes. “And then he brought the bloody thing home for Cook.”

  “I didn’t see you turning up your nose at dinner last night,” he shot back. “Anyhow, Piers came up to congratulate me and helped me untangle Kesia’s jesses. He’s got good, steady hands.”

  Since raptors had wickedly sharp beaks, this was high praise.

  “She’s a beautiful bird,” Piers said sincerely.

  “Do you have your own falcon?” Frederica asked, too sweetly.

  “No time to train one,” Piers said easily.

  Frederica raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really?”

  Piers didn’t stammer or blush like most young men would have. “Yes.”

  “And what do you busy yourself with?” Frederica asked. Condescension dripped from every syllable.

  Audrey tensed. What if he worked as a clerk? How dreadful of Frederica to make him admit it.

  “My uncle has an import-export business,” Piers said, still smiling, but with an edge to it.

  Audrey sought to divert the conversation. “How interesting! What does he import?”

  “High-end clockwork.”

  Frederica widened her eyes. “How very—”

  Franklin spoke over his sister. “I think you have new guests, Audrey.”

  “—middle tier,” Frederica finished.

  An ugly silence fell. Franklin gazed out the window, hands in pockets. Frederica looked smug. Piers smiled fixedly.

  Audrey jumped in. “An import-export business is hardly the same as shopkeeping.”

  For some reason, her defense seemed to amuse Piers, and the hard edge of anger in his expression relaxed.

  Fortunately, more guests had arrived: Jane and Katie Henderson, in pink. They rushed up and greeted everyone, giggling madly.

  Franklin and Piers retreated at this attack of twittering, allegedly to fetch lemonade. Audrey was stuck playing hostess.

  Her mind drifted. She wondered again how Grady was faring. When she sneaked out, should she take his family a basket of food? Or money? She didn’t have much allowance and
only a few bits of jewelry—all ones that her sharp-eyed mother would miss. Unlike Frederica, who showed off sapphire and diamond earrings, preening like a peacock.

  “Do you like them?” Frederica cooed. “I bought them to match my dress. One gets so tired of the same old pearls.”

  Jane, who was wearing pearls, blushed.

  “I don’t know,” Audrey said coolly. “The sapphires are gorgeous, but don’t you think they’re a bit overdone for a mere garden party? They’re more suited to a ball or the theater. I’m surprised your mother let you wear them.”

  Katie giggled nervously at this sign of hostility.

  Frederica’s nostrils flared. “My mother doesn’t dictate what I wear.” She raked her gaze up and down Audrey’s peach-and-white striped dress. “Of course, some people need more help than others. What odd bracelets. They don’t look like silver.”

  In fact, the double bracelets, which linked together, were made of high-quality steel. They were set with crystal and etched with flowers, but were in fact disguised carabiners. Her father had given them to her after the scandalous death of a young lady who’d fallen to her death while eloping from her tower bedroom. The Admiral had said the true scandal was that she hadn’t been taught proper climbing safety, and he had given Audrey the carabiner bracelets the next week. They’d never mentioned their non-jewelry purpose to her mother.

  She’d worn them today to remind herself that her father did love her.

  Audrey’s hands balled up in her gloves. She didn’t want to embarrass her mother by getting into a name-calling argument with Frederica, but surely she didn’t have to take this? Frederica’s mother might be a princess-in-exile, but unless they reclaimed their lands from the Siparese, it was an empty title. In Donlon society, the Konigs didn’t outrank the Hardings.

  “Oh, please don’t quarrel,” Katie begged.

  Audrey reined in her temper. “Very well, a change of topic. Was there anything you would like to see in the gardens? In addition to the cherries, there may be a few pears still ripe.”

  Frederica sneered. “There’s nothing I want to see. Or eat.”

  Silence. Audrey wished the boys would return with the lemonade.

  “I have an idea,” Katie said unexpectedly. “Let’s play Listen to the Wind!”

  “Oh, yes,” her sister chimed in, “let’s.”

  Audrey was mystified. “What’s Listen to the Wind?” The only wind party game she was familiar with was Send a Letter, where one person, usually the girl, whispered a message at one end of the balcony, and the person at the other end, usually a boy, had to relate what the wind had told him. Audrey was quite good at Send a Letter, but the balcony wasn’t long enough to play it here, alas.

  Frederica sniffed at her ignorance. “You Call the wind and ask it questions. If it favors you, it will answer.”

  Was it some sort of contest to see who had the strongest talent? Audrey’s pride stirred. She’d loved to show Frederica up. Unfortunately, although Frederica’s mother was an exiled princess from a land conquered by the Siparese, the Konigs were every bit as wind-favored as the Hardings.

  “What kind of questions?” Audrey asked.

  “If a boy likes you, or who you’ll marry!” Katie’s cheeks pinkened with excitement.

  “Very well,” Audrey said. She privately doubted that a wind could tell the future, but air spirits roamed everywhere and might well be privy to gossip. The game sounded more interesting than looking at plants, anyway. “The balcony is this way.” One couldn’t Call the wind indoors.

  Audrey opened a small door, which led onto a balcony in the shadow of one of the windmills. The wind instantly whipped her skirts about. She clutched the fine linen tight around her knees and went right up to the edge. Donlon was built on one side of a sharply pointed mountaintop and divided into six tiers. The rich naturally congregated near the top, with the poor and noxious industries located farther below. Tier One was the smallest and reserved for the royal palace and various government buildings. Harding House was high up on Tier Two, and she could see almost all of Donlon at her feet: the tight spiral road and slate rooftops below disappearing into the fog. The fog was poisonous in truth, but it was also pretty, the way it drifted and eddied about in the stiff breeze.

  The Hendersons shrieked excited laughter when the wind grabbed at their clothes. The strong breeze tugged their hair from their pins, blowing it in their eyes. Audrey grinned to see Frederica’s hair tumble down. She felt a gloating pleasure in her own short curls.

  Frederica walked up to the edge of the rail, appearing indifferent to the dizzying drop to the next tier below. “I’ll go first and show you how it’s done.” She raised her voice. “Chinook, heed my voice and answer! What man shall I marry? Who will help my family regain their throne?”

  Chinook was a warm wind, moderately strong. From what Audrey had read, he was a serious wind and one who preferred the nighttime. She was surprised that Frederica had Called him for such a frivolous game. He must be the Konig family wind. The noblest families in Donlon often built relationships with a particular wind that stretched back generations. A family wind would almost always answer a member’s Call.

  The regular breeze dropped, and then a new, warm wind swooped in, making Frederica’s long curls stream around her face.

  “Well, who is it?” Katie asked eagerly.

  Frederica straightened her shoulders and said haughtily, “Someone of high rank, rich enough to swathe me in jewels. Your turn.”

  Katie bit her lip. “I don’t know what to ask. Last time I asked who would dance with me at Lady Potter’s ball, and the wind told me Paul would, and he did, but so did Gareth. And I don’t know which I like better! Should I ask which one loves me?”

  Frederica laughed scornfully. “What a foolish question. The only question worth asking is who you’ll marry.”

  Katie shook her head. “I don’t want to know yet. What if I haven’t met him yet? I’ll make a total cake of myself if I know and he doesn’t. Or what if I don’t like him?”

  The question sobered everyone. They’d all seen girls end up married to horrible old men. Audrey suddenly wondered just whose name the wind had given Frederica. Was it someone awful like Duke Anders, who was rumored to be looking for a third wife? He was rich enough to finance a war, but he also had two chins and a braying laugh. If it had been someone young and handsome and rich, Frederica would be gloating.

  “Ask who your one true love is,” Jane suggested. “Then marry him.”

  Katie’s face lit up. “Ooh, good idea! Breeze, who is my true love?”

  Breeze was a more generic name for lesser air spirits. It was the wind that talented children were first taught to Call.

  The wind swirled, but not as forcefully as it had answered Frederica. Katie tilted her head, listening hard.

  “Well? Tell me, tell me,” Jane demanded.

  Katie looked puzzled. “Do we know a Jamie McFarland? I’m not sure I heard the name right.”

  “No. I know a James Garvey,” her sister said.

  “Garvey doesn’t sound at all like McFarland,” Katie said crossly.

  “McFarland sounds like a lower-tier name. Maybe your true love is a chimney sweep,” Frederica said maliciously. “Better marry someone else.”

  “Oh!” Katie’s eyes rounded in alarm. “Is McFarland truly a lower-tier name?”

  Her sister put her arm around Katie’s shoulders. “Hush.” She glared at Frederica. “Why, now that I think of it, I have heard of some McFarlands in society. Second cousins of the Crossfields.”

  “Yes,” Audrey seconded, though she’d never heard either name before. “I’m sure the name is perfectly respectable.”

  Katie blinked back tears. “Oh, good. Your turn, Jane.”

  Jane looked reluctant. Audrey didn’t blame her. The game felt considerably less fun now.

  “You’re not going to waste your question on true love, are you?” Frederica said mockingly.

  “Don’t let h
er bully you,” Audrey said. “Not everyone wants to know their future.”

  Jane’s shoulders squared. “Breeze, tell me who I’ll marry.”

  But this time no wind came.

  Uncertain, Jane shouted again.

  Still no reply.

  Dread grew in Audrey’s stomach. Jane paled. “Does that mean I won’t marry?”

  “Or perhaps you don’t have enough talent to Call the wind.” Frederica tossed her head. “Or maybe you’ll never marry because you die young.”

  Jane gasped. Katie started to cry.

  Audrey itched to slap Frederica. Even if the wind had told her she was going to marry Duke Anders, it didn’t excuse cruelty to Jane.

  “Frederica!” Franklin exclaimed from the door to the balcony. He held two glasses of lemonade. “What a terrible thing to say! Apologize at once, or I’ll tell Mother.”

  Frederica glared at her brother but grumbled an apology. “Sorry, Jane.”

  Jane’s lips trembled.

  Franklin handed off the glasses to Katie and his twin, his attention on Jane. “It probably means nothing. Air spirits can be very capricious. It probably grew bored and flitted off.”

  Jane began to sob, and he folded her against his chest.

  “You should take her inside,” Audrey suggested.

  Katie followed Franklin and Jane inside.

  Frederica lingered. “Well? It’s your turn. Or are you afraid?”

  Audrey’s chin lifted. “As it so happens I do have a question, but I’m not going to share it, or the answer, with you.”

  “That’s not how the game is played,” Frederica complained.

  Audrey said nothing, staring the other girl down. She’d stood up to her father; Frederica was no match.

  Audrey waited until Frederica flounced back inside the garden dome before addressing the wind. “Zephyr, who is The Phantom?”

  There was a moment of stillness followed by a blast of air much stronger than that generated by the other girls’ questions. The wind stung Audrey’s eyes and whipped at her skirts, then whispered in her ear, “He has many names: Child of the Grand Current, Master of the Wind, Jack—”