"Hapto Ditalantos," Elsie stated, clear and commanding.
For a moment it looked as though the snow had changed colors from white to green. Light pierced through, setting their circle into a blaze of jade. Dorian's grip on her waist tightened. The feel of it calmed her, which slowed the churn of magic until she knew her Talent was listening. There were no forms in front of her, no faces in the constant swirl of green around them, but she knew it anyway. This was her innermost self, that power that made her Heir Apparent and soon to be House Witch. Though it was silent, she acknowledged that it spoke quite clearly in her core, wanting to know why it had been summoned forward.
Elsie pulled the vision of the Braziers into her mind. She could see them, tall and clawed and blazing. Dorian murmured something from behind her, but she couldn't make it out. And that was when she felt it, the unmistakable birth of something new, something powerful, as his Talent - portrayed as the color red - entered the circle. Everything turned brighter and four of the pillars around the mountaintop grew solid and visible. Beyond them, the Wild shrunk back, its fear echoing through the clearing.
Their Magic asked what they had been summoned for again and Elsie forced herself to concentrate on the braziers. An argument without words took place - both Talents grudging the idea of putting out the flames.
"Susbennumi," she whispered, hoping she had the right word for suspend. It seemed like the right word. Her voice was two-fold, amplified by her magic. "Only for a little while," she said. "Or the Vicaress will know I live."
An image of the braziers flickered through the mass of green and red swirl. Reonne stood beside one, watching it with that hawkish surveillance Elsie had come to recognize. The woman was getting impatient. Her Talent seemed to recognize this at last and understanding curled through the circle, infusing with Dorian and his own Magic.
The braziers sputtered and went out.
Elsie smiled. The emerald color vanished, followed by the scarlet shade of Dorian. Through the swirl of snow and debris, she began to filter through locations, hunting for a safe place in Lorant. They needed a secluded, warm place in Lorant, away from prying eyes for at least a brief moment.
This was different from her original leap out of the alleyway, this time she was choosing where she was going. And with only a mild exertion of their combined magic they made the transfer from mountaintop to her private room in the Delgora Winter House. Their arrival was announced by a light breeze and a few wayward snowflakes that trailed them. They drifted quietly to the hardwood floor, melting on contact.
Dorian appeared to be dazed by the transport. Elsie squeezed his hand once and hurried away from him. Keeping her footsteps light, she moved to the door and opened it a crack. Several irate voices rose from the sitting room. Signaling Dorian to stay put she risked further movement onto the balcony.
"I don't care who she claims to be! The woman is a Bedim and an imposter and I will see her hung from the battlements!"
She didn't have to use magic to know the owner of those sentiments. Elsie smirked in spite of the precarious situation. If she played things right Lord Ivan Lorant would be answering to the Noble Council by the end of the night, which reminded her that she had never discussed the issue with Dorian. She'd meant to. There were things the man might have been able to tell her about Lorant, but there just hadn't been time.
"She has not claimed to be anyone," Gremor's voice, nasal and grumpy. "As a matter of fact, she has done her best to deny such a claim."
With a brief smile for the old servant, Elsie moved quickly and quietly back into her room. Latching the door behind her, she winced and prayed no one had heard the faint noise of metal locking. When she turned around Dorian had gathered his composure and stared at her with a questioning hike of his eyebrow. Elsie tiptoed back to him and took his hand. Their skins warmed with the contact, magic tickling in her stomach with something akin to joy.
"Do not leave my side," she whispered. "I need you touchable if things do not go according to plan."
"According to what plan?" he whispered back.
Elsie smiled at him, "The plan to reveal Vicaress Reonne's true parentage and the origins of the Dellidus. I thought for certain you would have figured it out by now."
"I figured the parentage but the Dellidus has me confused. Where in Fates could the blasted woman have gotten it?"
Diverting to her armoire, Elsie grabbed the first dress she could find and tossed it onto the bed. She imagined walking into a meeting with two noble Lords dressed as a Bedim assassin was unwise. "Honestly? I don't know."
"You don't know and you intend to confront Lord Ivan Lorant as ... as what, exactly? Being a father? It'll be his word against yours."
Elsie stripped out of her assassin garb, which distracted Dorian enough that he had to blink several times. Bryva had made the same argument. She'd ignored her sister at the time, unable to deny the assertion and knowing there was no other way. If she focused too much on the lack of Bryva's voice she would shut down completely. So instead Elsie focused on cinching the laces of her corset tight, feeling the velvety material under her fingers with vague familiarity.
"It's our word against a Noble Lord of Magnellum," she whispered. His face relaxed a fraction, and he moved to help with the many buttons running over the sleeves of her gown. "At the very least your father will investigate and he'll learn the truth."
"But will he learn the truth before or after your execution?"
"Dorian," she turned to kiss him, fierce and brief. "Listen to me. I will not be arrested today. Just stay by my side and if things go badly I will disappear."
He frowned again. Then, with sudden urgency he yanked her up against him, the solid press of his form making her mind lose track of the danger. She felt his hand at the base of her neck, fingers sliding through her hair, tilting her head so that their mouths could meet. His kiss was gentle at first, reverent and seductive, before it grew into something more, something heated, lustful, needy. Gasping with want, her arms went around him trying hard to pull him closer.
When he pulled away they were both panting, restless with the push of their Talents.
"Make certain you don't disappear forever," he whispered.
"I will make every effort to return to you."
Taking his hand, she turned them to the door. It was time for the truth to be revealed, for the real villains behind the death of her family to be brought to light. Eighteen years in the making and she still didn't feel ready for it. Her heart sped, calmed only by the squeeze of Dorian's hand as they made their way out of her room and down the stairs. Anxiety churned in her stomach. An unpleasant prickle of sweat beaded around her neck.
As they reached the base of the stairwell something strange happened. The double doors to the sitting room were wide open, allowing her to see everyone inside. Leona sat on a chair closest to the fireplace, Callen Beroe directly beside her, holding her hand. Lord Rorant Orzebet stood near the bookshelf against the southern wall, Lord Lorant just to his left. On the northernmost couch sat Winslow and Bartholomew, with Winslow gazing off at his feet and looking somehow older. And just beside Winslow, perched on the armrest as though she were still alive, was Bryva.
The vision only lasted a moment, long enough for her sister to smile at her as they entered the room, and then it was gone. Elsie felt her resolve strangle her fear, beating it aside like Bryva would have beaten Callen in the Finals.
"What a pleasant gathering of nobility," Elsie smiled, warm and suddenly ready.
Ivan Lorant was predictable. He stepped forward and pointed at the Warders surrounding Lord Orzebet. "Arrest her."
"Oh, do be seated, gentlemen," Elsie kept hold of Dorian's elbow as he escorted her into the room. "I think we have much to discuss and your feet might get tired."
"There is nothing to discuss." Ivan turned to Orzebet and she could see two angry splotches of red effusing his cheeks. "She is a Bedim Knight and should be executed on sight."
"As I recall," Orz
ebet made a slow, casual movement to lean against the bookshelf. Elsie could have kissed him for that. "That order is only if we suspect the Bedim Knight in question is about to fulfill a contract. All other times we are ordered to arrest them and interrogate for information on the Bedim movements." He turned to the Warder closest to him, "Does she appear to be on a mission at present, Victor?"
The Warder shook his head.
"Good then, that's settled," he gestured toward her. "I'll arrest you in a moment. First, let's try the interrogation."
"By all means, My Lord Orzebet, I am yours to interrogate," she leaned against Dorian's side. "But I warn you, you're not going to like everything I have to say."
Orzebet nodded to the Warder he'd called Victor, who pulled a Remora Stone out of his inner jacket pocket and walked to her. The nearness of the object sent her magic receding into her core, subdued by the brackish-green stone. Elsie took it, understanding that they couldn't risk her transporting at will. Which, to be fair, had been her intent if they wouldn't listen to her. But with Lord Orzebet lounging on the bookshelf, ignoring the hissing and accusatory glares of Lord Lorant just beside him, she knew she wouldn't have to.
"I have played this moment out many times in my mind," Elsie tightened her hand around the Remora Stone and took a deep breath. "When I was younger I imagined something a bit more dramatic but now ... "
"This is a waste of time," Lorant hissed.
Someone told him to hush but she didn't notice who. Instead, she turned to him fully, reigning in her temper because she knew she would lose her advantage if she let it show. While she knew she could win Orzebet and the Warders to her side, the one she really needed was Leona, who watched the proceedings with wide, frightened eyes. So Elsie gathered her calm, polished demeanor and detached herself from Dorian's arm. She moved to stand in front of Leona, sensing the fact that Dorian followed, keeping just within reach.
"Nessa?" Leona asked, slowly getting to her feet.
She had been told something, it was written on her face. The girl was searching for some kind of confirmation.
"I am so sorry, Leona," Elsie said. "I have lied to you."
Leona sat back down, "Then it's true."
"At first, we were uncertain if we could trust you," Elsie heaved a sigh. "And then when we knew, none of us wanted to risk your life."
"Risk my life?" Leona gazed at her. "You don't think whoever killed Bryva would kill me as well?"
"I think a woman who is willing to murder a child and her parents for her own gain would sacrifice her own daughter as well."
Lord Orzebet cleared his throat as Leona's shock became evident. Obviously the girl had not been told as much as Elsie had assumed.
"You are certain it was the Vicaress, then?" he asked.
"Beyond a doubt," Elsie kept her gaze on Leona. "Though she had some help. I don't know how she got the Dellidus through the Warding Pillars."
"Dellidus?" Real alarm sounded in Lord Orzebet's voice and he sent a reproachful glance to his son. "Is this the great secret you've been keeping from me?"
"Yes," Dorian answered.
Orzebet's attention swerved back to her. "Have you gone mad?" he asked. "Keeping such a thing private! You could risk the lives of hundreds ... thousands of people."
"I beg your pardon, Lord Orzebet," Elsie did not have to fabricate the cold stillness in her voice. "My adoptive mother attempted to gather aid from the other Houses while I was still a babe, and she was turned away. I could not believe that such coldness could be presented by the great houses, so I went myself at the age of seventeen. Do you know what I found?" She didn't wait for a reply, "Nothing. In fact, when I pressed Lord Lorant to hear my case in private he had me flogged for insolence."
Elsie turned away from Leona and focused her attention on Lord Ivan Lorant-Clenci. Age was doing good things to Lorant. Gray hair mixed with his natural blonde color in a distinguished sort of way and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to make his face gentler, more open than it had been eight years ago. Elsie grabbed onto the memory and blinked, once, slow, to bring her thoughts into something intelligible.
"The flogging was what gave you away, my Lord." She shook her head. "In fact, I doubt you intended to let me leave Lorant alive. Which begs me to wonder why? Why such an extreme reaction to a simple request of your time?"
"This is conjecture," Lorant scoffed and turned to speak to Orzebet. "I can't even understand her point. Arrest her and be done with it."
"We'll listen a moment more," Lord Orzebet gave them both a shrewd frown. "But you'd best get to the point, Miss."
"My apologies, but I pray your indulgence just a moment more," she said.
Walking to the northernmost couch, she smiled at Winslow, apologetic and quiet, before depressing the button on the underside the arm rest. It pushed in with a loud click that startled the room and was followed by a ticking sound, steady and growing in speed. Elsie turned to face the room again; making a point of showing she still had the Remora Stone.
"After escaping Lorant's prison I went into hiding. Because I believed Lord Lorant was somehow involved with the events surrounding Delgora, I put my network into motion." Elsie slanted a look at Lorant, praying that he would combust or something out of shame. This seemed remotely possible since his face had turned a furious shade of red. "Oh, yes, my Lord. I already had a network built by then. You cannot imagine that all of the good people of Delgora would sit by after their House Witch was murdered?"
"I've had enough!" Lorant strode forward, a hand on the butt of his pistol.
It was exactly the explosion she'd been waiting for from him.
"No! I've had enough!" Elsie let her temper go. "I've had enough of skulking in shadows, afraid to use my name. I've watched friends and family die to fight a creature that should never have been in Delgora to begin with."
The ticking sound stopped, replaced with a hiss and the sudden release of the armrest beside Winslow. Elsie reached down and flipped the hidden compartment open, tearing through the flowered fabric that had kept it secret for so long. Inside there was just one item, a rolled bit of parchment, still sealed. Just the sight of it calmed her down. She waited as Winslow retrieved the parchment, his light eyebrows pinched together as he recognized the seal of Lord Lorant-Clenci.
"I do have one thing to thank you for, My Lord Lorant. You caused me to learn my first spell." Elsie smiled at the horror on his face. "Opawa Ayaate, the spell to see the unseen, which is how I knew the contents of the letter without having to break your noble seal, preserving it for this exact moment."
Lorant made a half-choked sound that seemed to echo in the room.
"I'll have that if you please, Lord Agoston." Orzebet pushed himself away from the bookshelf and moved to Winslow, reaching for the scroll. Winslow handed it over, glancing once at her but otherwise unmoving on the couch. After a moment, Orzebet grunted. "This is the seal of Ivan Lorant-Clenci," he turned it over to show the Warders present.
"She fabricated it!" Lorant shouted.
"That's impossible and you know it," Orzebet snapped. "Each seal is bound by the individual's Talent, conjured at the moment the document was signed."
"Somehow she managed it," Lorant glowered at her.
Elsie lifted her chin and met his gaze, feeling the violence ebb off of him like so much water pumped through a pipe. His eyes showed fury and desperation, making him increasingly dangerous to those present. The rest of the room seemed to sense it as well. While Lord Orzebet broke the seal, which promptly disintegrated, and unfurled the parchment, Winslow shifted on the couch beside her. Dorian stepped to her right, his body between Lorant and hers. Bartholomew rose from beside Winslow and discreetly made his way to Leona and Callen.
"Varalessa-Reonne," Orzebet read aloud from the parchment, holding it up so that the Warders crowded around him could see. "Tighten your security. I caught a leak today. I'll see how bad the damage is but will risk no further contact."
His already s
evere mouth made a tight, unhappy line as he handed the scroll to Victor and stared at Lorant. "Fates above, Ivan, what were you thinking?"
"Oh, come now, Rorant. We went to school together. You know me. Would I do such a thing?"
"Yes, Ivan. I do know you," Orzebet exhaled through his teeth. "I know that nothing was ever good enough for you. The meager Talent you had made you bitter toward the rest of us. And it seems you never outgrew your contention."
"You married into the most powerful House in Magnellum," Bartholomew said. "And even that wasn't enough?"
"What use is a House if you haven't the magic to protect it," Dorian spoke, quiet and low. "I've seen the border lands of Lorant. They may be the center of Magnellum but they depend on the outer Houses to keep their Pillars strong."
"I think this goes further than that, Son." Rorant began to strum the butt of his pistol. The sound of the sharp, slow taps beat into the room. "The Clenci House has always been humble. The Untalented there almost have more money than the House Witch. So you see, Ivan here has always known a humble life. Isn't that right?"
"But Lorant has more money than any other House," Callen Beroe said. There was a very obvious struggle on the man's face as he watched the proceedings. He knew the danger in the room, which was evident in the way he held the hilt of his sword. But what he couldn't understand, and what had to be dictated to him now, was that there would always be something more important to the Witch-Born race. Something that went above money and power.
"Sir Callen," Elsie murmured his name so that he looked at her instead of Lorant. "Lord Lorant has eight children. Of those eight, only two were blessed with the Talent. All the others were sent off on their own, bartered away into marriages as estate keepers or vicars. They are of no use to the man inside the political circuit of Magnellum."
Witch-born Page 25
