Grandmother dismounts elegantly, and Serafino shrinks until he is the size of a large hawk again rather than a flying pony. He perches on a nearby branch, watching with sharp gold eyes. As Grandmother walks toward me, I see that her gown is rather unusually cut. The chiffon fabric separates down the center to allow ease of movement—and, I assume, ease of riding or flying—revealing legs clad in golden leggings. The dress’s bodice is intricately tooled leather and seems as though it was molded to her skin. Grandmother’s eyes are awash with concern.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, dearest one,” she says, holding her hand out to me in welcome. If I hadn’t heard from you in the next day, I was going to send Rowen after you with a message. You’re in terrible danger.”
My stomach sinks. It was one thing to suspect, but another to have it confirmed. “Am I truly being followed then? Has the Order found us again?”
Grandmother’s expression takes on a faraway look. “The Order. It’s been an age since I thought of them. They are largely the problem of mortal Sylvani in your realm—”
“Well, they nearly killed my sister,” I say, rather more sharply than I intended.
“You think I did nothing to help Katherine,” Grandmother says, her tone one of surprise. “Ah, but you are wrong.”
Rowen steps forward from the shadow of the trees, and I can’t think how I must have missed the soft glow of his snowy white fur.
It was the queen who lent me the arcana to transcend the barriers of the realms and appear to your sister—and to you.
I look at them both agape. “But I thought it was part of Mama’s arcana?”
“Her runes allowed the connection, but I was the source of the power,” Grandmother clarifies. “Rowen came to me when he felt Katherine reach out to him, and I did the only thing I could to help. You must understand, though,” she says, her voice softening, “that the Sylvani tend to handle strife differently here. We believe it does the other Sylvani no good to coddle them—even kin. We leave most of our difficulties to our own ingenuity and fate. What I did was nearly tantamount to holding her hand, and yet I know you both would see it as though I’d barely lifted a finger.”
“You’re right—I don’t understand,” I say and take a deep breath, “but I’d like to.”
She smiles approvingly.
“Does this mean I shouldn’t expect any help from you?”
Her expression turns wry. “I said we treat the Sylvani this way, but you are half-mortal.” Her expression turns serious. “I didn’t mean to imply the Order wasn’t dangerous; they are. And the only way for you to be safe is to learn to defend yourself using the weapons that can defeat them: your arcana.”
Strangely, I think of James and his self-defense lessons. He’d been trying to impart the same thing upon me. “If you think there are skills I can learn—I’ve never thought of my arcana as lending itself to defense.”
“Shall I show you what you are capable of?” she asks. Above her, Serafino beats his wings as if in anticipation.
I nod warily and take an unconscious step back as Grandmother raises her arms.
With rapid strokes, she draws a symbol into the air. It shimmers and burns before us—a golden rune like wings in the sky. An instant later, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as electricity crackles around us.
Grandmother points to a nearby boulder, and a bolt of lightning comes down from the cloudless sky, cleaving it in two.
My mouth dry, I can only stare at the blackened halves of stone.
“Using your arcana to draw runes can be just as powerful as commanding the elements themselves,” Grandmother says. “I will lend you my aid with two conditions: I will not fight your battles for you—only give you the skills you will need to fight them yourself.”
“What’s the other condition?” I ask, my eyes never wavering from the cleaved boulder.
“You must cross over physically to Sylvania. Only then will you be able to learn how to manipulate your arcana into a force powerful enough to take down the Order.”
The same breathtaking fear takes hold of my chest as it did years ago when Wren was nearly forced to cross over to Sylvania. I thought I’d never see her again. Convincing Wren I should do the same would be difficult. “You said once before that I would be able to make the journey from my world to this one, but will I be able to return?”
For once, she looks taken aback. “Dearest one, of course. I’m afraid it’s in staying that you will have the most difficulty—you must stay long enough to learn, but not so long that you begin to crave the arcana of this world.”
“Is the arcana of Sylvania so very different than mine?”
“It is more powerful, and not bound by the whims of your sun.”
I glance at the spirit animals behind her and am struck by a poignant longing. “What must I do? My physical body is in Bath, and both Katherine and I sensed the presence of arcana in the old Roman Baths there.”
Grandmother nods thoughtfully. “It is another portal to our world, built long ago by another Sylvani who chose your world over this one. The ancient peoples there believed her to be a sun goddess and worshipped her for her power—her arcana.”
I smile, pleased my instincts had been right. “I hope she was a benevolent one.”
Grandmother’s eyes smile back at me. “Yes, I expect she was. Now, listen closely, for we are running out of time. Your body cannot tolerate the separation much longer. You must go to the portal under the cover of darkness and go to the great pool. There you must cut your hand and let the blood drip into the water. You will feel the change in the air, the thrum of power, and you will see a glimpse of our world. When this happens, you must step through immediately. Rowen will be there to guide you.”
A shiver of excitement dances down my spine, but at the same time, I wish Wren could be with me. But I will have to be strong and go on my own. Not only would it be unkind to Colin—for I’m sure he would fear for her every moment she was away—but Wren would never leave Izzie behind.
I glance back at Grandmother, a half-formed idea in my mind. “Is it possible for Katherine and the others to come, too?”
“No, dearest one. Your father and your sister’s husband are mortal and unable to cross into our realm, and much as I’d like to see my great-granddaughter, the risk of bringing her over at such a young age is too great. Her arcana is still developing. To expose her to the arcana of this realm could change her irrevocably.”
Confusion and surprise make my response slow in coming. “Mortals—humans—cannot travel to this realm?”
She shakes her head. “Only those with Sylvan blood.”
Then Lord Blackburn’s threat was empty all those years ago—he could never have followed Wren through the portal.
“And now, my dear, you must hurry back before the strain on your body is too great,” Grandmother says, her expression kind but firm. She takes my ghostly hand in hers, and I feel nothing. “I look forward to the moment when I can hold your hand in truth.”
“As do I.” Another burst of excitement fills me as we share a smile. “Until then.”
“Do not waste your arcana—I’ll send you back,” Grandmother says and leans forward to press a kiss on my forehead.
The Sylvan world melts away.
DO you really believe he’d be so brazen as to call on her?” Richard says beside Alexander in his motorcar. They had been sitting outside the rear of the Thornewood townhouse in Bath since the ball ended. Alexander hadn’t had the chance to speak to Lucy again—at least, not about anything of consequence. James and her brother had made it clear, as they flanked either side of her and looked down on him with matching looks of disdain, that getting her alone was out of the question. He had gritted his teeth in frustration, but in truth, he hadn’t yet decided how much to tell Lucy.
Only enough to convince her Wallace was a serious threat.
The memory of Nadi creeps into Alexander’s mind, and his jaw tenses. “I won’t take any chances,
but try not to insult my intelligence, Richard. Why did you think I had you park the car at the rear of the house? I don’t believe he’d waltz in the front door, but what would keep him from going through the servants’ entrance?”
Richard smirks. “No need to be cross. I only wanted to see if you were up to snuff on your English etiquette.”
Alexander’s face relaxes into a grin. “I’m not completely an ignorant savage, you know. And I wasn’t cross—merely on edge.” His expression sobered. “Lucy won’t suffer at Wallace’s hands as Nadi did.”
A tingle of electricity spreads over Alexander’s body, so strong he winces at the sensation, though it’s not exactly painful—only intense.
“What is it?” Richard asks.
“She’s using spiritual power.”
Richard starts to open his door. “Do you think she does so defensively? Could Wallace have already entered the house?”
Alexander shakes his head. “Hand me my sketchbook.”
As soon as Richard does so, Alexander begins to draw rapidly: a fierce maiden upon a fiery bird in the sky, a city at the foot of a great mountain, ancient sentient trees.
“She’s not in danger,” Alexander says, wondering at the drawings on the blank white page. “Merely drawing.”
“Should we call it a night then?”
“No—I want to keep watch a little longer.”
The two men fall silent, letting the darkness swallow their thoughts. The only sound in the quiet car is that of their breathing and the faint ticking of Alexander’s pocket watch. And then, light spilling out from the servants’ entrance draws their attention.
Alexander sits up straighter, leaning toward the window with squinted eyes. Two hooded figures come through the doorway, and it’s obvious even from here that they are ladies. Behind them strides a gentleman in a black overcoat, and Alexander cannot decide if it’s Lord Thornewood or his younger brother who accompanies them.
“Not Wallace then,” Richard says beside him as he, too, watches the three of them get into one of the chauffeured motors. “What’s the plan?”
“We follow them,” Alexander says.
SIXTEEN
THE Roman Baths are eerie at night: dimly lit and ghostly quiet. The shadows are long and dark—setting my nerves further on edge. Wren is quiet beside me as we make our way to the Great Pool, but I should be thankful she came at all.
James walks behind us, practically seething. He was wildly against our plan, but we knew it wouldn’t be safe to leave the house unaccompanied—not with Wallace on the loose—and he was the first able-bodied man we came across. Rob, as usual, was out seeking out the best card tables, and Papa was tucked into bed with a book. I’d almost preferred Colin, but Wren and I both agreed James was the lesser of two evils.
It’d been hard enough convincing Wren.
“Why should we trust her?” Wren had demanded when I returned and breathlessly recounted Grandmother’s advice and instructions. “We were betrayed by the grandmother we knew, why not the one who is a total stranger?”
I had responded with calm patience, which I’d learned at a young age was usually the best way of dealing with Wren’s knee-jerk reactions. She almost always came around after being allowed to bluster for a moment.
“How can we be sure you’ll be able to return?” she’d continued. “That you won’t be changed forever?”
“All we have is her word, Wren,” I’d said, “but you were given memories of her by Mama’s own spirit animal. Do you think she is untrustworthy?”
Her face had flushed as she grasped for another argument. In the end, though, she’d let out her breath in a rush. “Very well. You win. But I insist on accompanying you—at least as far as the portal. Beyond that, I’m afraid I won’t be able to follow.” She’d grabbed hold of my arm then. “Lucy, darling, are you sure you want to do this? I could speak to Colin right now, and we could be on the next ship to America.”
“I won’t be chased away from my home, and I certainly won’t drag all of you down with me,” I had insisted.
Now, in the darkness of the Roman Baths, fear struggles to take hold, but as I stare down into the water, I feel breathless with both anticipation and lingering fatigue from crossing over spiritually to Sylvania.
Wren, on the other hand, with her face so drawn and tense, seems to feel nothing but apprehension. “You will return—you aren’t playing the martyr and merely telling me this, right?”
I smile and gently grip her arm. “You are the martyr among us, Wren, not me.”
“Surely there is another option.” James tries his argument again, his face pale in the dim light. “Don’t you think this is rash? What of your papa and Colin? They will be furious once they find out you’ve taken such an enormous risk without their knowing.”
Guilt makes me wince when I think of Papa. He doesn’t mention Rob, of course—my brother would probably be the only one to encourage me.
“And they’ll come to the realization, just as we all did, that this is the best option for me—the safest option,” I say.
“We?” James says. “I don’t recall signing off on this mad venture.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Hardly voluntarily,” he grumbles.
“I only ask that you make sure Rose enjoys herself before you return—I hate that I’m abandoning her.”
“You’re abandoning all of us!” James says, but relents when I stare him down. “Yes, of course, we will show her a good time. You needn’t even ask.”
“We’ll tell her you’ve come down with something in the night, and we don’t want to expose her,” Wren says, and I relax at the mention of her plan. If Wren has gone so far as to create an alibi for me, then she clearly has no intention of stopping me at the last moment.
I throw myself into her arms as I have ever since I was small, and she hugs me back tightly. “Take care of yourself,” she says thickly.
“I will. I love you, and I will come back,” I vow.
She pulls back and wipes away her tears in frustrated motions—Wren hates to cry. I let my own tears fall freely. It’s always been hard to separate myself from my sister, and I don’t try to hide it.
I take a few steps closer to the water, close enough to feel the mist coming off it. Before I can retrieve the dagger, James takes hold of my hand and pulls me to him. As I glance up, his mouth descends on mine.
I stiffen in surprise before melting into his kiss. It’s nothing like the first time. Gone is the gentle hesitancy, though this, too, is meant as a good-bye. This kiss is urgent, his strong arms keeping me flush against his firm chest.
We break apart after a moment—he panting, and I in a state of stunned awe. Tentatively, I touch my swollen bottom lip.
“Stay,” he says, his eyes lingering on mine. “I can keep you safe.”
For a moment, I’m tempted. But then I think of my grandmother’s words: I won’t fight your battles for you.
No one should have to fight my battles for me. I have as much Sylvan blood as my sister—I need to be able to defend myself.
“I have to learn to keep myself safe.”
His jaw tenses, and it seems as though he will force me to come with them, but then he nods. “Come back to us, then.” He touches a stray lock of my hair. “Come back to me.”
I nod and blink back tears before finally pulling my dagger free. With a shaking hand, I touch the blade to my palm and make a quick slicing motion. My blood beads up easily, and I hold my clenched fist over the pool, allowing a few drops to spill into the water.
The moment the first drop hits, the arcana hits me like a strong, sudden wind. The more blood spills, the more powerful the arcana becomes, tingling across my skin as though I’d touched a live wire. The mist clears, and then I see it: the white columns of Cascadia. I can hear the roar of the waterfalls in the distance, the sound of the birds calling; I smell the sweet exotic scent of the trees.
I can wait no longer; I must walk throug
h the portal. I glance back at Wren and James once more. The portal pulls me forward as surely as though I have a rope tied around my waist. I take one step into the pool.
Footsteps ring out.
I turn toward the source of the sound, and when I see the dark figures beyond James and Wren, I struggle against the portal’s hold.
James steps in front of Wren. The portal won’t release me; it’s pulling me through, carrying me under like the tide. I cannot see anything beyond them. It’s hazy now, like they stand in the eye of a storm. Fear washes down my back. Has Wallace found me?
James’s face is murderous, and Wren looks wary. The next instant, a fight breaks out—James struggling against some unseen opponent. Wren disappears from my view, and whether she is under attack herself or has gone on the defensive is unknown.
I struggle all the harder against the portal. “Wren!” I try to scream, but I cannot make a sound.
A shadowed figure appears, disrupting the waves of arcana pouring from the portal. The pull on my body becomes unbearable, and the next instant, I’m weightless and traveling at an impossible speed, too fast for my senses to register anything beyond flashes of light,
And then suddenly—surprisingly gently—I land on solid ground.
But my legs cannot hold me. I crumple to the ground, utterly drained. The sun above radiates a pleasant warmth, but nothing else. The arcana I used to travel between realms has left me weak, and the sun here is as useless to me as the light of a lamp. More, the sheer power of the arcana around me—like the pressure of the sea after diving deep beneath a wave—feels like a physical weight upon my chest.
I try to lift my head to get my bearings, to call for Rowen or Grandmother, but I can only remain prostrate. That’s when I hear it—the groan of someone beside me.
I manage to move my head just enough to see out of the corner of my eye: a gentleman lying miserably upon the ground, dressed in a black tailcoat.
The Order of the Eternal Sun Page 16
