by Marisa Mills
“Fine.”
“And I need a sponsor if I’m going to resume my studies at the Academy,” I said, “Assuming they’d let me in.”
“You’re making a lot of demands today,” Dorian replied.
“You let Alexander whip me,” I said. “I think I’m justified in making a few demands.”
Dorian looked amused. “Very well,” he said.
“Thank you.”.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied. “You haven’t seen what else I have planned for you.”
“If it’s anything like the last few weeks, I’m finished with you,” I said. “The only reason I even want you to do better is because you’re my uncle, and I…I’ve never really had an uncle or a father that cared about me. And maybe I’ll settle for you.”
“You shouldn’t have to settle.”
I slowly rose from my chair. “Unless I have a kinder uncle I don’t know about, I think settling is what I’ll call it, Dorian. I don’t even know if you’re better than Gabriel. Maybe you’re just more genteel with your violence.”
“I won’t ask for your forgiveness,” Dorian said, “and I don’t deserve it either. But for what it’s worth, I don’t want you to have the same relationship with me that I had with my mother.”
“That’s worth nothing unless you act on it,” I replied.
Dorian said nothing, but his blue eyes were thoughtful.
“Everyone is going to meet at Gareth’s,” I said. “I should be going.”
“I’ll see you at the Academy, then,” Dorian replied.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “You and Du Lac don’t get along, and—”
“All the more reason to go,” Dorian said. “If Markus didn’t want to deal with complaining guardians, he shouldn’t have agreed to be headmaster.”
I sighed. It would be Du Lac, wouldn’t it? There was no way he was going to let me in the Academy, especially if Dorian was going to be championing my cause.
“Wynter,” Dorian said, “having you in the Academy only benefits me.”
It did benefit him. As I turned away and left, I wondered, though, if I’d just made another mistake. Maybe Dorian really wasn’t worth bothering with. Uncle or no, maybe I really didn’t mean anything to him and never would.
***
I’d never been to a professor’s living quarters before, but Gareth’s were nice. It was a small cottage on the edge of campus, cluttered and warm, with every inch of space filled with books and papers. Glowing, gold sigils lined the entrance and the walls. Some I recognized. Gareth swept aside a stack of papers so I could sit in a chair. After a second’s pause, Tatiana perched on the chair arm next to me.
“Sorry about the mess,” Gareth said. “I don’t normally have company.”
“Think nothing of it,” Alexander replied, picking his way delicately across the floor.
Viviane sat on the edge of a table, heedless of the papers beneath her. Jessa came in, without her cane, and moved slowly into a vacant seat.
“It shouldn’t take them long to reach a decision,” Gareth said, dropping into a decrepit wooden chair. Assuming Dorian and Du Lac didn’t kill one another first.
I clasped my hands in my lap. “Professor,” I said, “what do you know about everything that’s happened?”
Gareth smiled. The air hissed, and Elaine appeared. She was a woman this time rather than the delicate, white fox. Her thick, white hair fell over her slender shoulders and spilled over the delicate, lilac lace of her dress. Alexander drew in a sharp breath and leaned forward, his eyes fascinated.
“Everyone,” she said.
“This is Elaine,” Gareth said. “Elaine, you know everyone already, of course.”
“You’re a demon,” Tatiana said. “And freed. Like Lucian!”
Indeed, Lucian said. I thought only you could speak to demons, Wynter.
“It’s not only Wynter,” Elaine said. “Nicholas Armenia could also speak to demons. We suspect it’s something in his bloodline.”
“Then, are you two related?” Viviane asked.
“No,” Gareth replied. “Nick used some of my research to make Gwen’s charm, but I learned to speak to them all on my own. In my youth, I took up a study of demons, and I discovered they could speak, if you listened hard enough. I made little charms to help me communicate with them, and then I met Elaine. Of course, I knew that telling anyone would result in persecution. Perhaps, even execution considering my position. So I kept my studies a secret, and joined the Council. I worked on and off as a professor, and while working as a professor, I met an especially gifted young man from the Lower Realms.”
“Nick could hear me,” Elaine said slyly. “He’d heard things his entire life, but he didn’t quite know what they were.”
“So did you bring Nick to Reverie?” I asked.
“No,” Gareth replied. “That was Gwen’s doing, actually. As the oldest Rosewood child, she was trained to be a countess, so Amelia often sent her to visit the Rosewood properties.”
“What for?” I asked.
“Morale,” Alexander replied. “It’s customary for nobles or a high-ranking servant to visit their properties a couple times a year.”
“Management, too,” Viviane said.
Gareth nodded. “Gwen went to Beryl to visit some of the silver mines. There were rumors of a monster haunting the mines and preventing anyone from entering them. And while there, Gwen met a very talented young man. She recognized Nick’s powers and brought him to Reverie. She and Nick entered the Academy at the same time. I liked Nick and mentored him for a couple of years. After that, I took another position in the Kingdom of Selene, but we remained in touch.”
“Did you know he was in Aubade?” I asked.
“For a while,” Gareth said. “Until Celeste became involved, I suspect. And you know what happened from there.”
“How did the Council think Guinevere died?” Alexander asked.
Gareth hesitated. “We’re…still torn on that matter,” he said. “It happened so long ago, and there were no witnesses, unfortunately. Unless you have any new information?”
Alexander glanced at me, then shook his head quickly.
“I was just wondering,” he said. “That’s all.” But the tone was all wrong. He was clearly hiding something. I bit the inside of my cheek and wondered what it was. It was difficult to tell if Gareth believed him or not. He merely sighed; Elaine squeezed his hand.
“What are you going to do about Reverie?” Tatiana asked. “Now that we’ve opened the chamber?”
“We’ll need to keep things a secret for now,” Gareth said. “While you were inside, several large earthquakes shook the foundations of Reverie, and our elevation has dropped, at least twenty feet by my estimate. It isn’t a problem we can ignore any longer. The Council will force the king to take action, one way or another. But in the meantime, you can’t tell anyone what you know,” Gareth said. “If you do, everyone will be after you—the king, the Council—and they’ll try to stop you.”
“So no one can know…” Tatiana trailed off.
“That your father was right?” Gareth asked gently. “I’m afraid not. Not until we have a solution, it would be panic.”
“I’m sorry, Tati,” I said.
Tati looked over her shoulder at me. “It’s all right,” she said. “All I’ve really ever wanted was for a friend who didn’t think I was crazy. If no one else believes us for now…it’ll be fine. I’m happy.”
“And I should apologize,” Alexander said, “For doubting you. I—”
There was the sound of knuckles rapping on the door. Elaine vanished.
When the door opened, Delacroix entered, a nightgown draped over her arm; it took me a second to realize it was mine. “Markus and I have made our decision,” she said. “Wynter, you may retake your entrance exam, but we’re not taking any chances this time.”
“I understand,” I said, climbin
g to my feet.
We crossed the school grounds and entered the main building of the Academy, then she passed me the nightgown and waved me into an empty classroom.
“You’ll need to change,” she said.
I carefully pulled off my blouse and trousers and pulled on the nightgown, trying not to flush or fidget beneath Delacroix’s watchful gaze. She gathered up my clothes and beckoned for me. I followed her into the ballroom, nearly restored to its former glory, the tile cold on my bare feet. Du Lac waited, his eyes narrowed.
“So, Wynter,” Delacroix said, “show us what you can do.”
With nothing. No magic sword, no device. No scheming nobleman. No one but Lucian and me. I took a deep breath. Lucian stirred in my mind, ready and excited. I held out my hand and called his fire to my palm. The flames crackled and snapped there, warming my hand.
It was still cheating, after a fashion. Most mages relied on sigils drawn by charmed pens, or enchanted objects fueled by demon magic, though there were other forms of generating enough charge with ambient energy, such as through singing or dancing.
But I knew I couldn’t tell them about Lucian. Demons were still prisoners in Reverie, and would be as long as their magic was still powered by demons. Maybe it would change one day, but in the meantime, I had to keep him a secret.
I furrowed my brow and looked at the flames, watching the way they flickered around my fingertips. Delacroix looked to Du Lac, who remained stony-faced. I’d put on a show at my qualifying exam. The curtains had burned. Maybe they expected more from me. I blew gently on the flames and imagined them soaring upwards, lifting into the sky. And the flames obeyed. I smiled triumphantly as the fire broke apart and twisted into bright, blue butterflies that fluttered from my palm and into the air.
Twenty-Seven
WHEN I EMERGED FROM THE ballroom, my friends and Gareth were clustered in the corridor. Du Lac immediately stormed away, but Delacroix lingered, a faint smile on her usually impassive face. Viviane leaned casually against Dorian’s rapier, shining and clean once more.
“Well, Summer?” she asked.
“We’re still classmates,” I said.
Tatiana pulled me into a hug. “That’s wonderful!”
“We knew you’d pass!” Jessa exclaimed.
Tatiana grinned and pulled back but still held me at an arm’s length. “I’m so happy, Wynter!”
“I told you,” Alexander said. “You do belong here. You always have.”
My heart seemed to flutter with his acceptance. “Thank you,” I said.
“So I’ll see you in class Monday,” Delacroix said, patting my shoulder.
“As will I,” Gareth added.
“Come on,” Viviane said, abruptly linking her arm with mine. “We have to tell everyone else.”
“Everyone else?”
“Our—your family, Wynter,” Viviane said. “Dorian and Eleanor.”
Why is she here? The baroness is worse than the nobleman!
“Eleanor is here?” I asked.
Viviane nodded.
Alexander scowled. “Why would you ask her to come?” he asked. “After she betrayed Wynter?”
“She’s still my mother,” Viviane said. “Sort of. And now, she’s Wynter’s aunt.”
“Let’s go, then,” Alexander said dryly.
“I think Wynter and I will go alone,” Viviane replied. “It’s a family affair, Alexander. I’m sure you understand that.”
Alexander looked like he wanted to argue, but Jessa cut him off with a sweep of her hand. “Why don’t we meet at Oberon’s shop later?” Jessa asked. “When you’re finished, Wynter can change, and we can celebrate.”
Tatiana nodded enthusiastically. “We can go to the tavern! It’ll be great!”
Alexander grimaced. “If I’m assassinated at this tavern, I will never forgive you,” he said.
“You’ve already fallen from the edge of Reverie, prince-who-lived,” I said. “I think you can handle one little assassination attempt.”
Viviane nudged me with her elbow and gave me an awkward smile. Together, we headed down the corridor. For a while, we said nothing. I wasn’t even entirely sure exactly where we were going. Probably to Celeste’s—no, Du Lac’s—office. There was a sharp pang in my chest when I thought of our former headmistress.
“Wynter,” Viviane said finally, “I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve treated you. I’ve been so terrible.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was,” Viviane replied. “Even if Alexander wants to blame Eleanor, none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t told her about you.”
“And if that had happened, we wouldn’t know about Celeste or about the demon chamber. There shouldn’t be any more demon attacks now that she’s gone.”
Viviane sighed. “You sound like Unc—Dorian,” she said.
“I’m furious with him,” I replied, “but sometimes, he makes a good point.”
“You should make sure he knows you’re angry. He acts aloof, but Dorian is deeply bothered by people being angry with him. He might give you something really good. I haven’t seen him since…” Viviane trailed off and waved vaguely with the rapier. “But you’ve already told him, haven’t you? About me?”
“He already knew,” I replied. “I don’t know how. I was so angry I didn’t think to ask.”
Viviane nodded, looking absentminded. She halted abruptly. On the stairwell a few feet away, Eleanor sat, her scarlet skirts spread over the stairs. Dorian stood beside her, leaning against the banister.
“He’ll still love you,” I said. For all Dorian’s flaws, I was reliably sure of that. I’d seen the way he hugged Viviane and the way he teased her. Surely, all that familial affection couldn’t have been faked for so long. “He’ll probably even still let you draw on his legislation if you ask,” I said, trying to make her smile.
Viviane had a death-grip on my arm, and in response, she let out a nervous, little laugh. Dorian turned his head and saw us. I stepped forward, bringing Viviane with me. Viviane unlinked her arm from mine and curtseyed. “Good evening, Your Lordship,” she said.
Viviane then offered the rapier, which Dorian accepted with a sort of detached elegance. “What a strange way to greet your uncle!” he exclaimed.
Eleanor rose and slapped Dorian’s arm with her fan.
“There’s no need to be so theatrical,” she said.
“Better theatrical than boring, dear sister,” Dorian replied.
Eleanor rolled her eyes.
Dorian bowed and took Viviane’s hand, placing a light kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll always be your uncle, dear, is what I mean to say,” he said.
Viviane’s face brightened in relief. She traced a thumb over one of the scratches over her uncle’s jaw. “Look at you,” she murmured.
“Fran says it makes me look ruggedly handsome,” Dorian said.
“I find it rather untoward for a count to consider the opinions of his apothecary,” Viviane replied slyly.
“And did you pass, Wynter?” Dorian asked, giving me a quick once-over.
“I did,” I replied.
I waited to see if he would hug me or kiss my hand like he had Viviane’s, but he didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve wanted him to anyway. Anger still smoldered in my belly over how Dorian had used me in his plans, but there was something else I didn’t quite understand. Some strange desire, maybe, to feel like I belonged in this new family. I might share the Rosewood blood, but I wasn’t his niece. Not really.
Wynter, Lucian said, his voice gentle, it’s normal to yearn for affection.
And Lucian probably really disliked that.
I’m never going to like your nobleman, Lucian said. But I’ll tolerate him. For you.
Eleanor’s gaze flickered to me. She hadn’t been spared by Tatiana’s glass either, but even with the red remains of her injuries, Eleanor was still beautiful.
“You’re r
eally Gwen’s daughter, then?” Eleanor asked, looking me over stiffly.
“It seems so,” I replied.
Eleanor cut her eyes towards Dorian. “Well, I suppose that means you and Viviane are cousins, then. As far as anyone knows. I had a daughter, and Gwen had a daughter. I see no reason to reveal more of the truth than necessary.”
Viviane breathed a sigh of relief beside me.
“Of course, you don’t,” Dorian said, “because you were wrong.”
“I don’t think we ought to begin debating whose vices outweigh whose,” Eleanor replied.
“I’ve never had a cousin before,” I said, “or an aunt. Just…”
Just an uncle who wasn’t my uncle. And a brother who wasn’t my brother.
No, Briar would always be my brother, whether by blood or not.
“Well,” Eleanor said, “had Dorian bothered to tell me who you were, I would’ve never raised a hand against my own kin.”
“I suppose I don’t count?” Dorian asked.
“I’m hoping, Dorian, that if I fail to acknowledge you as my brother, you’ll cease to be. However,” Eleanor said. “Wynter, I will acknowledge that I made an error in judgment, and even if I was looking after Viviane’s interests, I shouldn’t have exposed you like I did. I’m dreadfully sorry for everything that has happened, and I hope you’ll forgive me someday.”
“I…I don’t know,” I said, as I gazed at Eleanor’s lovely face. “I think maybe I’d…want you to like me.”
“Dorian has taught you poorly if that’s the only thing you desire,” Eleanor said.
“I’ve taught her well,” Dorian said. “Wynter is merely a different breed than we are.”
“Perhaps, we ought to have dinner together,” Eleanor said. “As a family.”
“We have plans already,” Viviane replied. “We’re going out to celebrate, Ele—Mother.”
“Another time, then,” Eleanor said. “Tomorrow evening, we’ll dine, and we’ll either bond together or kill one another. It’s the Rosewood way.”
Oh! I hope it’s a blood bath! Lucian exclaimed, laughing.
It took me a few seconds to realize Eleanor’s suggestion was being leveled to me.
