Concealed

by Christina Bauer

  More like a burly giant with rugged features, rough hands, and a warm touch. “I’m a Necromancer. We are trained to focus on logic instead of feelings.”

  “Sounds wise. Men are no end of trouble, I find.”

  Philippe brought his stallion closer to the window. “I heard that.”

  “You were meant to.”

  At last, the mansion appeared atop the crest of a hill. It was a sprawling estate that gleamed with golden paint. I supposed the scale was meant to intimidate. Based on how my stomach had begun to squirm, I was afraid it was working.

  Amelia gripped my hands again. “Do you think we can really do this?”

  “Absolutely.” I was pleased that my voice didn’t waver.

  Amelia nodded slowly. “I believe you.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop. After all the hours of practice, the moment had arrived. Now I could only hope that we’d find answers in this den of social serpents. My fellow Necromancers were counting on it.

  Chapter Nine

  I stepped into the waiting chamber of the Marquis and Marchioness de Havilland. Once there, I stood stock-still. The place was empty, yet that wasn’t what made me pause. There were magickal wards in here—spells of detection and security that had been cast by a Fantome. It all had an oily feeling to it, like my skin was being dipped in sludge. This was definitely the work of a single mage.

  On reflex, I scanned the room. The guard had mentioned there was a mage in residence. Would this person be hiding here?

  Everywhere I looked, there were images of lions tearing into their prey. The beasts were woven into the tapestries that hung along the walls, set into intricate mosaics on the floor, and painted onto the murals covering the vaulted ceiling. Even the chairs were carved with the faces of growling lions on the backrests.

  The whole scene was meant to shock and impress visitors. After all, the lion was the animal on the Havilland coat of arms. I quickly caught myself and stopped staring. Philippe and Amelia stood beside me. A pair of servants in gold-colored livery stepped into the room.

  “Wait here,” said the first servant.

  The second servant looked at me like I was week-old garbage. “Do not take a seat unless bidden to.” News of my non-noble lineage must have passed quickly up from the guardhouse. The pair of servants stared at me expectantly.

  I inclined my head slightly and turned away. If those servants were hoping to see me red-faced over being a supposed bastardess, they were both mistaken. In the world of Necromancy, lineage meant nothing. Magick was everything.

  “Thank you,” said Amelia smoothly. “You may take your leave now.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” The servants turned away, closing the door quietly behind them.

  Philippe folded his arms over his chest. “You could have called them out on their tone, Fleur. They don’t know your lineage for certain. It would have been within your rights to chastise them.”

  “I’ve more important things to focus on.” I paced around the room, my gown trailing behind me with each step. I’d only been wearing it for an hour or so, and already I wanted to tear the damned thing off. To pass the time, I scanned every scene of lion-led carnage. The number and variety of animals shown was amazing. There were lions killing gazelles, deer, bears, other lions… The list went on and on. Amelia told me how the Havilland family enjoyed hunting, but this was something else. What kind of bloodthirsty folks were they?

  A golden door swung open on the opposite side of the room. Another servant stepped inside, this one a woman. She wore the same yellow livery with a small matching cap. She stopped and bowed in our direction. “The Marquis and Marchioness Havilland will now grace you with their presence.”

  Amelia and I curtsied as a willowy man and woman stepped into the chamber. Both had ebony skin, brown wigs, and elegant bone structure. The woman’s yellow silk gown matched her husband’s perfectly tailored longcoat as they crossed the room in lockstep. The Marquis was tall and broad-shouldered. Normally, I didn’t like a man in a wig, but somehow the Marquis made it seem dignified. Meanwhile, the Marchioness was everything long limbed, slender, and elegant. Her wig towered on her head, and much as I hate to admit it, it suited her quite well. She looked nothing less than regal.

  The noble pair first paused before Philippe. The Marchioness tilted her head as if trying to remember his name. “How nice of you to visit. Philippe, is it?”

  Now, that was impressive. You wouldn’t know the pair were lovers.

  “Yes, Marchioness.” Philippe took her hand in his and kissed the back of her knuckles. “How kind of you to remember me.”

  “My memory would improve if you visited more often.” The Marchioness turned to her husband. “Don’t you think Philippe should join our regular company?”

  The Marquis lifted his brows. “You hunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Raise dogs?”

  Philippe sniffed. “Only fools trust a breeder.”

  “Excellent. I must introduce you to my Master of the Hounds.”

  “It would be my honor.”

  I kept my features carefully calm, yet inside? I was wide-eyed with shock. The Marchioness had just manipulated her husband into agreeing to allow her lover to visit more often. And beyond that, to become his friend. Back on the farm, that kind of behavior got all parties involved nothing more than a fat lip. Here, no one seemed to bat an eyelash.

  The Marchioness moved to stand before Amelia. “And how lovely to see you, my sweet.”

  Amelia dipped her chin. “I appreciate your granting me an audience.”

  “Nonsense, your visit was overdue and much anticipated.” Next, the Marchioness turned to me. “And I see that you’ve brought a companion.”

  Amelia curtsied again. “Yes, my Lady. I’d like to present Fleur.”

  The Marchioness eyed me carefully. “And how are you two related, precisely?” The look of disdain in her chocolate-colored eyes said she already knew the answer.

  “Amelia and I share the same father but have different mothers.”

  “I see.” The Marchioness’ nostrils flared. “How interesting.” The way she said that last word, I could tell she thought me as engaging as a smear of dung.

  Amelia took a protective step closer to my side. “I met Fleur in the orphanage when our father came to find us. You know how he was.”

  “How kind of you to take the girl in,” said the Marchioness smoothly. “Few would do so much for full-blooded relation.” She arched her thin brows. “In fact, some might have questions about allowing a stranger into their lives. After all, who can know their true intentions?”

  It was an effort to keep looking lovely and aloof. In truth, all I wanted to do was cast a bone melter spell on the Marchioness. How dare she question my motives? It made me all the more angry because, deep down, I knew she was just a little bit right. By entering Amelia’s life, I had placed her in danger.

  Amelia lifted her chin. “I trust Fleur. Absolutely.”

  A warm sense of pride swelled in my chest. I hadn’t known Amelia very long, but there was no question in my mind that she was an honest person. Her trust in me seemed genuine, and that was a great gift indeed.

  “How fortunate for you.” The Marchioness flicked her long fingers, and a servant stepped up from the doorway. “We’ll enjoy some refreshments.” An odd look shone in her eyes as she spoke that last word. It was clearly some kind of signal. Suddenly, my dress seemed far too heavy and hot. I was certainly no favorite of the Marchioness. What exactly did the suspect about me?

  The servant marched quickly from the room. A few seconds later, a Fantome walked into the reception chamber. It took everything I had not to gasp. She was a spritely thing that had the classic look of a Necromancer, with pale skin, dark features, and long black robes. My heart sank. She’d joined us based on the signal from the Marchioness.

  That wasn’t good.

  All Fantomes wore loose robes with heavy hoods. It wasn’t proper garb for a Necrom
ancer. We had fitted robes that showed our different stations. Still, I didn’t need a robe to know what level of mage now approached me. All Fantomes were Grand Masters or Mistresses, the same as me. The woman stepped closer, her face unreadable.

  Be careful, Elea.

  Amelia and Philippe shared a worried glance. The Marchioness waved off their fears. “Don’t worry. She isn’t here for either of you.” She turned to me. “Fleur, meet Kamilla.”

  I curtsied and took a closer look at the mage before me. Kamilla was petite and elf-like with bone structure that was so sharp her cheeks looked hollowed out.

  “Greetings, Kamilla.” Philippe stepped directly between the Fantome and me. “I hope you realize how important my sisters are to me. Both of them.”

  In response, Kamilla only glared at him. For a tiny lady, I had no doubt she could level the room.

  The Marchioness slowly seated herself in one of the larger throne-like chairs. “Don’t be rude, Philippe. The Marquis and I are honored to have a Fantome present on our property.” The way she spoke, the Marchioness seemed anything but honored. Angry beyond belief was more like it. “We defer to her will in all things.”

  “And in this, my will is clear.” Kamilla glared in my direction. “You’re to leave with me.”

  Philippe lifted his chin. “Not a chance.” He struck a gallant figure with his blond hair and fitted longcoat. Defying a Fantome wasn’t necessarily smart, although I admired his determination.

  Sadly, he didn’t stand a chance against a Grand Mistress Necromancer.

  Kamilla raised her fist. Her fingers were decorated with totem rings. “Back.”

  With only that one word, one of Kamilla’s totem rings lit up with a flare of magick blue flame. A ball of azure-colored energy pummeled Philippe’s stomach, forcing him backward. The poor man’s body whipped across the floor until he slammed into the wall. I gasped. What an outrage. Necromancers were schooled to save our powers for those who attacked. Philippe was just posturing. I rushed to his side, along with Amelia.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  Philippe took in a few shallow breaths before giving me a shaky grin. “Only if you kiss and make it better.” He tapped his mouth. “It hurts here.”

  Amelia patted his shoulder. Relief was evident on her face. “He’ll be fine.”

  Kamilla stalked toward Philippe. “No one tells a Fantome what to do.”

  A muscle twitched by the Marchioness’ eye. When she spoke again, her voice overflowed with false calm. “You once asked to meet any strangers to my home.” She pointed to me. “This one is strange.”

  Strange? Oh, she doesn’t know the half of it.

  Kamilla slowly turned to face me. My heart beat so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. “This girl has no magickal signature, which is very odd.” She prowled closer to me. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  I appeared perfectly calm. On the inside I wanted to scream. “Why would I have any magick?”

  The Marchioness turned to her husband. “Love, why don’t you take Philippe to see your hounds?” The pair exchanged a long look, and I had a feeling an entire conversation was hidden in that stare. I had the additional suspicion that whatever that talk was about, it didn’t bode well for me.

  “Excellent idea.” The Marquis turned on his heel and walked out of the room. “Follow me quickly, lad, or you’ll be left behind.” The door slammed shut after him.

  “Be right there.” Philippe stepped up to the Marchioness and spoke in a low voice. “Are you certain you ladies will be fine on your own?”

  The Marchioness narrowed her eyes. “Positive.” She softened her tone to an intimate whisper. “And it wasn’t a question, pet. Go play with the hounds. I won’t harm your sister.” I couldn’t help but notice that I wasn’t included on the list of those who would be safe. “Run along.”

  “Yes, love.” Philippe took off at a quick pace.

  The Marchioness waved at the handful of servants who puttered around the chamber. “You’re all dismissed.” After that, she shared a pointed look with Kamilla. Seconds passed before the Marchioness gave the mage the barest of nods. Kamilla left the room as well.

  A knot of worry formed in my throat. Why didn’t Kamilla fight being sent off? I didn’t like how easily she gave in.

  Still, the moment everyone left the room, my shoulders slumped with relief. Kamilla being gone made everything feel almost pleasant once more.

  The Marchioness gestured to the chairs beside her. “Now, we can speak more comfortably.” A predatory gleam shone in her eyes. There was something about this conversation I didn’t like, at all.

  Amelia slipped into the open seat to the Marchioness’s right. “What would you like to discuss?” I stood halfway across the room, all the better to keep a good view of the conversation.

  “What should we discuss?” The Marchioness patted her wig with her fingertips. “Please. Don’t play coy. I had suspected that you might be visiting me.”

  “And why is that?” A little crease formed between Amelia’s ginger brows. I was getting to know her faces. This one meant that she was genuinely confused.

  “The rumors are rampant, my sweet. Everyone knows that your future is about to change. You’re here to ally yourself to me.” She shook her head. “Honestly, you used to be better at this.”

  “Rumors? My future? What are you talking about?”

  The Marchioness leaned back in her chair. For a long minute, her gaze flickered between Amelia and me. “So you don’t know.” She tapped her chin.

  “Know what?” asked Amelia.

  The Marchioness kept speaking as if Amelia hadn’t said a word. “Then you must have come here to help the bastardess. How very interesting.”

  A chilly feeling was creeping up the back of my skull. I appreciated Amelia wanting to focus on my quest. Still I didn’t like the greedy look in the Marchioness’s eyes. “What do you know about Amelia?”

  The Marchioness glared at me. “You’ll speak when you’re spoken to.” She returned refocused on Amelia. “Tell me. What do you wish for your half sister?”

  Amelia opened her mouth, but I raised my hand, palm forward. “One moment.” I stepped closer to the Marchioness. “Leave Amelia out of this. I’ll be the one to tell you what I need, once you share your news about Amelia.”

  The Marchioness sniffed dismissively. “Spoken like a true Commoner. You people are always so crude. Fine.” She turned her attention to Amelia. “I was referring to the rumors of your impending marriage, obviously.”

  Amelia’s shoulders fell forward. “Oh, is that all? There are always whispers going around.” She was speaking too quickly for my taste, though. Amelia only did that when she was worried or afraid.

  I narrowed my eyes and considered this news. It would be no surprise if the Vicomte used Amelia as a marriage bargaining chip. She was his only legal offspring, after all. Still, Amelia told me that the Vicomte hadn’t had anything to do with her in years. I turned to her. “When was the last time you heard one of these marriage rumors?”

  “Oh, last week I think.” Color rose in Amelia’s cheeks. That only happened when my friend was lying. There was no question about it. Some time had passed since there had been wedding rumors for Amelia. So, what had changed recently? An idea appeared. Genesis Rex had been having diplomatic negotiations with the Vicomte. Perhaps the Caster King was behind all this. Marrying into the Vicomte’s family would be a traditional way to protect the Casters. Not that it would work, in my opinion. The Vicomte was too much of a lying bastard.

  “I’ve told you what I know.” The Marchioness focused her attention on me. “Your turn.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Amelia replied first. “My sister and I wish to visit your galleries. Alone.”

  The Marchioness rubbed her temples and grew silent. My legs began to get wobbly beneath me.

  We’re so close. Ada, Veronique, and the others could be seconds away.

  At last, the Marchioness
addressed us once more. “That’s a strange request. I rarely let anyone see the galleries alone. Still, I’ll allow it this time.”

  Amelia’s face brightened. “Thank you.”

  “Your half sister may go alone.” The Marchioness patted Amelia’s forearm. “You must stay and keep me company. We have so much to catch up on. Isn’t that right?”

  Amelia fidgeted in her chair. “Oh, yes.”

  The Marchioness rose and stepped up to my side. Resting her hand gently on my shoulder, she led me toward the door. Once we were far enough away from Amelia, she leaned in to whisper in my ear. “My Fantome is already waiting to accompany you to the gallery. It’s her favorite place to take strangers. You see, she’s cast wards to block all magick there.”

  “What?” The word tumbled from my lips before I could stop it. Magick-blocking wards were very complex and almost impossible to cast through. My chances of winning a battle in the gallery were slim.

  “Of course” —the Marchioness shrugged— “if you’re who you say you are, then you’ve nothing to fear, now do you? And if you’re a lying Necromancer, then Kamilla will kill you on the spot.” Her voice lowered with menace. “I have enough of your scum in my house as it is. I don’t need more mages causing trouble. Do we understand each other?”

  “We do.”

  She gestured to the door. “Then, the exit is that way.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. From across the room, Amelia was watching us. Her blue eyes were wide with worry. I gave her what I hoped was a carefree smile. My friend had placed herself in enough danger as it was. I didn’t want her risking a trip to the gallery with a Fantome too.

  Worry churned inside me as I walked toward the exit. Every step seemed to echo through the room, reminding me of the drumroll before an execution. Alone with a Grand Mistress Necromancer and unable to cast spells?

  Gods-damn it. I’m heading right into a trap.

  Chapter Ten

  Kamilla waited for me in the outer hallway. Usually, Necromancers were careful to hide their emotions. There was no missing the hungry flare in Kamilla’s brown eyes. In fact, she reminded me of my old cat Lucy. That same look appeared when there was a wriggling mouse trapped under her claws. My spine stiffened.