by Bree Verity
They reached an alcove with a curtain which Nazryth pulled back to display a small girl of no more than seven or eight years old, laying very still on a draped table. She was so pale she was almost translucent. To Fenella's horror, she could see something moving underneath the little girl's skin.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"That's the soul sickness, just about to reach the physical plane." Nazryth's lips were tight. "Her parents took her to a light fae elder because she displayed early signs of being able to use soul magic. One of the cures they tried triggered the soul sickness in her."
Fenella tried to recall what she knew of soul sickness - it was difficult, because up until now she had thought it was nothing more than a myth.
"So, it is like a bacteria eating away at her?"
"Kind of," said Maryse, and Nazryth and Fenella turned to her. "But it behaves like no bacteria we ever saw before. It burrows rather than spreading - like horrible black worms on her soul." Maryse shivered, and Fenella saw her distress mirrored in both Nazryth's and Phineas' eyes.
"You can see it?"
Maryse nodded, but Phineas was the one who replied. "It's a blackdark spell that reveals the soul. Nobody had any idea what was wrong with Kerryn until her parents brought her to an actual blackdark practitioner. And when they found out what it was, they abandoned her here." He glanced thoughtfully at the still little girl. "Even if she survives this, she has nowhere to go."
"That's not a problem," replied Maryse firmly. "We will take care of her. But for now, what we need to do is make her well. And that's where you come in."
She turned to the side of the room where a small leather-bound book lay. To Fenella's surprise, it was made of actual paper. Her eyes widened. It must be ancient. Maryse held it out to Fenella.
"Can I touch it?" she said, almost reverently, and at Maryse's nod, she took it gently out of Maryse's hands, marveling at the structure, the fragility of the thing. The spidery writing inside the book was pale, but still readable. Fenella's eyebrows lifted as she read real blackdark spells, designed to hearten the soul, to nourish it.
Moments later, she realized she was reading a language she had never seen before, and with a yelp of surprise, she put the book down quickly and looked around at Nazryth, Maryse and Phineas in surprise. They were all smiling.
"It's written in Hyrdese," explained Nazryth. "It seems anyone with soul magic can read it."
"But that's impossible. I never learned it."
"You don't need to. It's a part of you, at soul level."
She shook her head in wonder. "We were always taught that blackdark was an evil thing that should be suppressed. But those spells? They said it was something good and kind and nurturing."
"No magics are intrinsically good or bad," replied Maryse. "There are evil soul magic practitioners, just as there are evil light magic practitioners." She picked the book up again and turned to a specific page, handing it back to Fenella. "This is what we need you for. The spell that will kill the soul sickness parasites."
Fenella read it, and replied, "Seems simple enough. Why do you need me?"
Then she noticed a line at the bottom of the page written in a language she didn't know. Pointing to it, she said, "What does that mean?"
Nazryth replied. "It's in English. And it reads, 'When two halves of the whole combine, the weave of the spell will intertwine.'"
"English?" It was a surprise to find an Earth language in a book in Byd-Tal'm. "But what does it mean?"
"We think it means that for the spell to work, we need twins."
"Two halves of a whole," Fenella repeated, understanding. "And I assume you've tried the spell with just two unrelated blackdarks?"
Nazryth nodded. "There was a little improvement, but we believe the twin energy will be a catalyst for actual healing instead of just superficial."
"How long will it take?" Fenella asked. "I do have a job that I have to go back to. I've left my godchild and my mentor in disguise."
"We don't really know," Maryse admitted. "As a chant, it could be almost instantaneous, or it could be required all night long."
"So, you have to make a choice, little sister," said Phineas kindly. "Take care of your godchild or take care of this child."
Fenella swallowed. While the choice was simple - there was no way she would abandon a dying little girl when something she could do might be able to save her - she had no idea how she would explain to Diana, and especially to Lachlan who would be absolutely livid.
But surely this was a perfect case in which to ask forgiveness instead of permission.
After a deep sigh, she said, "Alright then. What is it we need to do?"
Chapter Fourteen.
Sauntering down the corridor, Simon found that he was smiling.
Not that there was anything unusual in that. Simon smiled a lot - at brave people undergoing the worst of troubles, at children so poor they barely managed to eat a single meal a day. At fat bureaucrats who, while sitting around tables so laden with food they were at risk of cracking right in two, had to be persuaded that the poor were part of the humanity they existed to serve. Oh, yes, Simon knew how to smile.
But this was different. This was a smile of anticipation and enjoyment; one he could not recall wearing for many years. It was a smile that he couldn't wipe from his face, as opposed to those other smiles that had to be pasted on.
Simon had been exposed to the seedy underbelly of society since choosing to forgo his elite physician training to concentrate on providing medical assistance to London's poor, and his experiences had forced seriousness upon him. His smiles were kept for those who could still smile back. It did not do to grin when you were surrounded by the seven filthy, distraught and terrified children of a woman who was not expected to last the night.
But this morning, Simon felt giddy as a schoolboy.
He told himself that his mother was right - that he had really needed a holiday. That much was true. The work he did could pull a man down into deep melancholy if he allowed it to get to him. Everyone, even the most hardened of doctors, needed to take a break from time to time.
But Simon knew it was more than just the break that was making him happy. It was the anticipation of renewing acquaintance with Diana - and more.
Diana and he had been inseparable for years. For many of those years, the fact that they were a boy and a girl had made no difference at all - Diana had followed Simon up trees and over stone walls, she had no issue with collecting rocks and bugs from the riverbank when Simon wanted to - and both of them would get home filthy and be chastised and thrown in the bath to be cleaned; for it all to happen exactly the same again the following day.
As the years progressed, Diana would become frustrated because Simon could climb faster, or skim stones longer than she could. "I wish I could be a boy," she would say wistfully, and, in his secret heart of hearts, the youthful Simon would agree - it would be magnificent if they could always play with each other.
Then, one year, the youthful Simon understood that he no longer wanted Diana to be a boy. That was the year he noticed for the first time just how pretty she was. And how his mouth went dry when she reached out to take his hand when he helped her jump across the river rocks.
He approached the dining room and stuck his head in - nobody there except for a maid clearing the dishes and a young footman surreptitiously whispering to her. He didn't interrupt them.
Instead, he made his way to the drawing room, where he could hear voices. And here he found her.
A small party was gathered in the drawing room - a whist table had been set up, and Diana and Lady Edenburgh were facing off against Mr. Littleton and Lord Edenburgh. One of the other young ladies, Simon couldn't quite recall her name, stood nearby with several of the young gentlemen. It was a cozy, intimate scene, and Simon felt not one whit of remorse for breaking in on it.
"Good morning," he said jovially, rubbing his hands together, "or rather, good afternoon. I believe it is close
to two o'clock. It is difficult to tell in this weather." The heavy drapes were closed against the cold, still Simon had seen the sleety, miserable day in the view from his bedroom when he awoke.
"Afternoon, Moore," said Lord Edenburgh. "Thank goodness you are here. I suppose I could not entice you to take my place at the table. I am just about sick to death of being thrashed by the ladies. Perhaps you will have better luck."
"Yes, please do, Doctor Moore," encouraged Lady Edenburgh. "For I am sick to death of looking at my husband's woebegone face every time we trounce him."
The group laughed a little, and Lord Edenburgh made room for Simon.
"Cards have never been my forte," Simon admitted, "but I am prepared to face down the dragons if I must."
"Dragons?" said Lady Edenburgh. "Really, Mr. Moore, if that is what you think of us, we shall have no sorrow at all in contributing to your downfall. Shall we, Diana?"
Diana glanced up quickly and smiled but returned her attention to her cards just as quickly. Simon wondered at the action - the Diana he recalled was quite vivacious and talkative. He noticed, too, that his concerned frown was duplicated on the brows of both Lady Edenburgh and Captain Littleton.
His concern was heightened as they played several hands, during which time Diana did not engage in conversation, indeed, she hardly even glanced up from her hand. It was as if she was so focused on the game, she had no interest in anything or anyone else. Indeed, she was playing to win - a triumphant smile crossed her face when she took a trick, and a victorious light played in her eyes.
After one such loss, Simon said carefully, "I do not recall you have such a competitive streak, Diana. Is that something you have developed some time in the past seven years?"
"No, indeed," piped up Captain Littleton, "for when we played only a few weeks ago in London, she was much less cut-throat. Perhaps it's being cooped up in this country house with this godforsaken weather that does it." Simon noticed that Mr. Littleton smiled fondly at Diana, however, Diana did not smile back, in fact she looked a little guilty as she glanced up at Mr. Littleton.
"I wonder if we can stop playing?" she said. "I feel quite fatigued all of a sudden."
The doctor in Simon came sharply to the fore. He laid a hand on Diana's arm, noticing that the muscles beneath his hand contracted. Diana had jumped at his touch.
"Is this the first time this has occurred?"
Lady Edenburgh tapped him on the hand. "Dr. Moore, this is hardly the place to discuss my goddaughter's health."
Simon flushed, but replied, "She seems to be a little off-color to me today, my Lady. I merely wished to ensure she was not coming down with something."
"An admirable sentiment, Doctor, still, I would be very surprised if Lady Diana wished to discuss her symptoms across the whist table."
Simon stood and bowed, chastised. Lady Edenburgh was right. Still, he waited for a moment when Diana was standing alone, then sidled up beside her.
"I am sorry to push the issue, but are you quite alright, Lady Diana?" he asked quietly. She looked around at him as if surprised to find him beside her.
"Of course," she said sharply. "Why should you suggest otherwise?"
"Only that your behavior is a little erratic," he replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. "And then just now you found yourself fatigued."
"Oh."
Again, Simon was surprised. Diana - or at least the old Diana that he knew - would have brushed him off or made a feisty comeback. This new Diana seemed a pale imitation of herself. What could have caused such a transformation? Simon's eyes narrowed.
"What has that old crone done to you?"
She looked at him in surprise. "What old crone?"
"Why, your stepmother of course. What other old crones do you know?"
When this did not even raise a smile, he frowned, moved in a little closer and murmured, "Is it that you cannot say?"
Diana's eyes flicked across his face, calculatingly. "Yes."
"I thought so. Can we discuss it privately then?"
"No." Now, Diana looked alarmed.
"But how can I help...?"
"Come along my dear." A light scowl rested on Captain Littleton's face as he joined them, and peremptorily took Diana's arm. "We are to join everyone for afternoon tea in the parlor. Shall I escort you?"
A bored expression crossed Diana's features, but she replied, "Certainly, Captain Littleton," and they walked away, leaving Simon speechless.
He had to find out what Lady Dartmore was doing to Diana. Perhaps she was forcing her to marry that Captain Littleton. He certainly seemed to be very attentive. Or was it that other blighter, Mr. Carling? Both had been fawning all over her at dinner last night. Either way, Simon thought, it would be a cold day in hell before she married either of those gentlemen. Especially if it was under coercion.
He ignored the little voice telling him that he only wanted to save her for himself.
* * *
"Annie."
The chatter and laughter between Maisie and Diana stopped abruptly as they turned the corner into the kitchen only to find Mrs. Fletcher standing up from her chair. It seemed as if she had been waiting for them. Maisie's expression turned to one of fear and she stood, hands clasped in front of her, head bowed.
Diana felt it prudent to do the same. "Yes, Mrs. Fletcher?" she said, dropping a tiny curtsy and feeling pleased that she had learned at least this one lesson.
"What is the rule regarding the family?"
Mrs. Fletcher's tone was too friendly by half. Maisie caught Diana's eye and shook her head.
"I... I do not know, Mrs. Fletcher."
"Then it is one you must learn and immediately." Mrs. Fletcher's tone hardened. "Never approach the family. If the family speaks to you, you may respond modestly, but there is no circumstance in which you should ever initiate conversation with the family."
Apparently, Mrs. Fletcher had been appraised of Diana's words to Lady Diana that afternoon.
"It will not happen again, Mrs. Fletcher," said Diana, at which Mrs. Fletcher scowled and replied, "It most certainly will not, or you will be sent away. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Fletcher."
"Good. Oh, and Annie?"
"Yes, Mrs. Fletcher?"
"I have my eyes constantly upon you. Never forget that."
Diana believed Mrs. Fletcher meant she had her spies on the lookout the whole time. It would not surprise Diana to find the other housemaids had reported her run in with Lady Edenburgh to the formidable housekeeper.
"I shall not, Mrs. Fletcher."
"Very well, that will be all."
The lady sat back down still scowling at them, and Diana and Maisie curtsied and walked past to the other side of the kitchen table in silence.
Tea and lovely fluffy scones with preserves were available for afternoon tea, along with clotted cream for those who wished for a little extra decadence. Diana took one of the piping hot scones, dropped a spoonful of strawberry preserves on, then a spoonful of clotted cream. The scones, along with a couple of cups of lovely, strong tea, seemed to revive Diana after her chastisement by Mrs. Fletcher.
"You really do need to look out for her," Maisie said quietly, selecting her own scone and piling it up with marmalade. "It seems Mrs. Fletcher has taken a bit of a dislike to you."
"Why?" said Diana. "What did I do?"
Maisie smiled widely through a mouthful of scone. "Upset the natural order now, didn't you? Trying to talk to Lady Diana like that." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "It is going to be so wonderful when Mrs. Fletcher realizes it is Lady Diana she is talking to, and not little housemaid Annie. I can't wait to see her face."
"You must make no mention of it, Maisie, none at all," Diana replied quickly.
"Oh, no, of course I never would," replied Maisie still grinning, "but when it comes out, I really hope I have a front row seat to the dressing down."
"You don't like her very much, do you?" Diana took a sip of tea.
&nbs
p; "Is it that obvious? Well, when I was a new one here, she took the strap to me for taking too long to bring a tray upstairs. It was very unfair - I was even smaller than I am now, and my muscles had not developed, and the tray was fully loaded with tea and coffee and milk and honey and plates and cups. It was a wonder I didn't drop the entire thing. But I didn't - and then Mrs. Fletcher gave me a wallop for taking too long."
"But that's unfair," said Diana.
Maisie shrugged one shoulder, already grabbing her second scone. "It's our lot, Annie. Or, at least it's mine, anyway." She grinned conspiratorially at Diana. "I'll be a lady's maid one of these days, and then Mrs. Fletcher will have much less power over me."
Diana's heart ached for Maisie. What kind of a life was it - to be chastised so unkindly, and for your only ambition to gain a few steps up the servant's ladder?
"Why do you not marry and get out of here?" Diana asked.
Maisie shrugged again, most of her attention focused on the scones. "Nobody's asked me."
"That doesn't mean it will never happen."
"That's very kind, my Lady, but I shall not hold my breath." Maisie put a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, my... I mean Annie. I keep forgetting."
Diana looked sharply around the table, but it seemed nobody has noticed Maisie's faux pas. "Then stop forgetting," she hissed. "Can you imagine what Mrs. Fletcher would do if she heard you?"
The two young women giggled together for a moment.
Chapter Fifteen.
Fenella felt as if she was stepping on to a stage, under a single spotlight. The room was so dark it was impossible to tell where the walls were in the inky blackness, and the thought made Fenella uncomfortable somehow, as if she couldn't quite place herself in the space. The only light came from Nazryth and Maryse who held their hands out over the table, bathing Kerryn's tiny body in a strong, warm white light.
In a corner of her mind, it occurred to Fenella that Nazryth, despite his dark skin, was actually a light fae. But the thought was fleeting, as a hundred others pressed in on her mind when she looked down as the girl on the table.
