Samuel had at first been distant with her new friends. She knew he had felt suspicious, not of her but of them. Why else would two guys want to spend time with his girlfriend? Slowly, though, he had come to accept that both Aubrey and Jadon were nice young men, worthy of his trust and friendship. He had warmed to Aubrey much more quickly, upon learning that Aubrey had a girlfriend of his own, Shell. Apparently, despite appearances, Samuel was still cautious of Jadon.
Teresa knew it would help matters if she spent less time with Aubrey and Jadon, but she cared about them and felt responsible for them. Neither of them had a clue how to take care of themselves. Shell was always travelling somewhere, leaving her domestic disaster of a boyfriend to fend for himself, and Jadon lived alone in a granny flat under his mother’s house. Neither of them knew how to cook a meal from scratch. Jadon thought that “real food” meant drive-through burgers and fries because it wasn’t from the freezer. They needed Teresa. She was surprised they’d lasted twenty years without her.
‘So who is it that’s coming tonight?’ Samuel asked, laying out his cards for the others to see.
‘Emmanuelle,’ Teresa answered, adjusting the heat setting for the vegetables.
‘I don’t remember her,’ Samuel said, watching as Aubrey also laid down his cards.
‘You will when you see her,’ Jadon assured him. He dropped his cards triumphantly. ‘She’s nice to look at.’
At the trio’s initiation, Samuel, Shell and other family members had been present as witnesses. It was the only time Samuel had met anyone on the council except for Aubrey and Jadon.
‘So long as you’re not looking at her forehead, which has “traitorous bitch” written across it in bold print,’ Aubrey muttered. Jadon and Samuel tried not to laugh, while Teresa struggled to pretend the insult didn’t offend her on Emmanuelle’s behalf.
‘Aubrey,’ she said, firmly.
‘What? She’s family. I’m entitled to think of her like that.’ He sipped his beer and reshuffled the deck. ‘I certainly can’t think of her like Jadon does.’
‘I said she’s nice to look at,’ Jadon said again. ‘I think she’s hot, and she is. I wouldn’t dare think anything else. Can you imagine what would happen to me if anyone happened to be browsing my thoughts at that moment? She’d tear me to shreds. Not worth it. I’ll stick to looking – no thinking.’
Aubrey and Samuel laughed. Teresa pretended to preoccupy herself with cooking. Aubrey’s attitude towards Emmanuelle had gone a long way downhill in recent weeks. Teresa didn’t like hearing it. She quietly admired the French Healer, who embodied many qualities that Teresa wished that she herself possessed. Emmanuelle was strong-willed, defiant, determined and confident. When she wanted something, she went forth and got it. She was an intelligent, independent and empowered woman. She showed her feelings, which Teresa really respected. When she was hurting, she let it show. She was open and stronger for it.
Teresa found it difficult to consider herself equal to the other White Elm councillors. They seemed so imposing and superhuman. It was rare for any of the male councillors to ask her for an opinion, although Lady Miranda, Susannah, Anouk and Emmanuelle easily held their own during council circles, so it wasn’t because she was female. It was because she hadn’t proven herself yet.
The lasagne was ready, so Teresa donned her oven mitts and pulled it free of the oven. There was a soft knock at the door.
‘Can someone get that?’ Teresa called over her shoulder, feeling nervous. It was like being ten and having a friend over for the first time. What would she think of your family home? That terror of being judged was still very real.
‘Yeah, I will,’ Jadon said, carefully setting down his cards. ‘Keep an eye on these two for me, will you?’
‘Don’t you trust us?’ Aubrey asked, grinning.
‘With my life, yeah,’ Jadon said. He approached the front door. ‘Just not with my cards.’ He opened the door and smiled easily at the person on the other side, stepping aside for her. ‘Hey, Emmanuelle.’
Emmanuelle smiled in return, a golden smile, and swept inside. In her scarlet dress and black corset, and with her wavy blonde hair, she looked every bit a medieval princess. Teresa had difficulty ignoring the soft voices of her insecurities – jealousy and inadequacy were the loudest.
That was what a White Elm councillor should look like. Self-assured and confident: that was how the ring’s guardian should be.
Why had Teresa ever agreed to this?
‘Hi,’ she said, trying to smile normally.
‘Hi, Teresa,’ Emmanuelle answered, smiling warmly. ‘Thank you again for inviting me to stay for dinner.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ Teresa said, feeling nervous as she began to dish up the food. She had thought that by having dinner first there would be time for her nerves to settle before she had to work, but now she wasn’t sure. Maybe prolonging the inevitable would only make it worse.
‘Let me ‘elp,’ Emmanuelle said, her tone too firm to argue with, as she moved into the kitchen and took the vegetables off the boil.
‘Thanks,’ Teresa mumbled, meekly handing over a ladle. She hurriedly collected five plates and spread them across the limited bench space.
‘So, you’re alone tonight, Emmanuelle?’ Aubrey asked from the table.
‘If by that you’re asking whether Renatus is joining me ‘ere, no, ‘e isn’t,’ Emmanuelle replied. ‘He made it sound as though you were afraid of ‘im being ‘ere tonight. I hope that isn’t true.’
‘It isn’t,’ Aubrey assured her, lightly punching Jadon’s arm to get his attention. The American councillor had not yet taken his seat and resumed the game; instead, he was hovering beside the table, watching the women prepare the meal, apparently wanting to offer to help but unable to see any way of being able to do so now. ‘What else did your boyfriend say?’
‘Renatus isn’t my boyfriend,’ Emmanuelle answered easily, spooning the last of the vegetables onto the fifth plate. Teresa admired the calm and grace with which Emmanuelle dismissed Aubrey’s jibe. ‘‘owever, ‘e asked me to ask you to do something, but I won’t repeat it. It wouldn’t be polite.’
‘Pourquoi, qu’est-ce qu’il a dit?’ Aubrey asked, his voice challenging. Why, what did he say? But Emmanuelle refused to say.
‘Demandez-lui vous-même,’ she suggested. Ask him yourself. She went to the oven to collect the fries while Teresa served out the lasagne.
‘English, remember,’ Samuel reminded Aubrey. Jadon, the only non-European present, nodded.
‘Yes, please. Keep in mind that your ignorant mono-linguistic pal is still here.’
‘Please finish the game,’ Teresa asked of the boys. ‘We need the table. Samuel, can you please find the spare chair so we can all sit together?’
It would be a squeeze, five people eating around a small table designed for four people. But Aubrey and Jadon had been insistent – they wanted to be here tonight, just in case.
Dinner was slightly awkward to begin with but improved as stomachs became fuller. Emmanuelle made every effort to be friendly and talkative, despite being an outsider to a tight small group, and though Aubrey didn’t respond much, Teresa tried her best to keep conversation flowing, and soon Samuel and Jadon were chatting away, too.
Time just keeps on moving forwards, and those future things you dread eventually become the present. All too soon, Jadon and Samuel were kicking Teresa out of her kitchen, taking over the washing-up, reminding her that she had important work to do.
It was a brilliant idea, really, although Renatus had brilliant ideas all of the time. Teresa could understand why Lord Gawain had kept him around for so long, even if no one else could. He was terrifying but he was clever.
He’d caught up with her in the library at Morrissey House while she searched for material for her lessons. At first, when he’d entered the library behind her, she’d expected him to ignore her completely, so she’d been more than a little surpris
ed when he’d actually called her name. He’d quietly described the all-important ring that Emmanuelle was guarding – everyone knew she had it, but only a few councillors had actually handled it and she always wore so many rings that anyone who hadn’t seen it before wouldn’t know which one it was.
‘She wears it on her thumb,’ Renatus had explained, while Teresa had wondered why he suddenly felt like sharing information with her. ‘It’s a thick, solid thing made from silver, with a crest and a black stone set into it. The Elm Stone. You must have seen it.’
Teresa had, and had considered it probably the plainest of Emmanuelle’s lovely collection of “everyday” jewellery. She’d assumed it to have some kind of sentimental value, and apparently she had guessed correctly. It was the ring left to her by her old friend, Peter.
‘I know you can cast illusions as convincing as life,’ Renatus had said next. ‘Can you recreate that ring?’
Teresa had deliberated, uncertain. Yes, she could very easily create a visual and tactile illusion so true-to-life that no one could tell the difference between the two rings, but she did not know how effectively she could fake the illusion’s energy. A typical illusion had no energy. The real ring had an aura all its own – it was visible on Emmanuelle’s right hand, emanating from her bejewelled fingers. Could she recreate that? Maybe. Possibly. Probably, if she exercised a great deal of skill, effort and care.
‘Yes,’ she’d replied at length. ‘I think I can.’
‘How long can you make it last?’
‘The visual and physical illusion could probably last up to two days outside my auric field,’ Teresa had said then, feeling oddly professional. It seemed strange to be talking to Renatus like this (talking to him at all was unusual – talking to him like an equal was just strange). ‘I don’t think the energetic illusion, if I can cast it, would even last an hour. Maybe only half.’
‘You would be its guardian – the illusion’s guardian.’ Renatus had glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, perhaps sensing someone passing it in the entrance hall. ‘If it was taken from you, half an hour should be enough time for you to get away before Lisandro realised he’d been tricked. What do you think?’
Teresa had not told him what she thought, because she had only been thinking of how terrifying the idea of meeting Lisandro really was.
‘Sounds great,’ she’d said finally, because it did, in theory. Renatus had nodded then, and turned as if to leave, but something had suddenly occurred to him, because he had paused.
‘Lord Gawain arrives in an hour. I know he’ll love to hear your idea about the ring.’
Her idea?
‘Are you alright?’
Teresa blinked, suddenly brought back to the present by Emmanuelle’s voice. The idea was insane but it was a good one and the decision had been made. She had work to do.
‘I’m fine,’ Teresa agreed, brushing her hair from her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself. There was important, very important, work to be done. She was standing beside the now-clear table; Aubrey had moved all of the chairs to the edge of the room, and he and Emmanuelle now stood either side of her. Jadon and Samuel were making every effort to keep their dish-washing very quiet, to avoid disturbing Teresa’s concentration.
‘Are you sure?’ Aubrey asked, crossing his arms. ‘You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t feel up to it.’
He shot a subtle, dark look at Emmanuelle. Teresa hesitated. He was right, this could end badly – what sort of trouble could she get into if the other side thought she was carrying around the ring they wanted? But Emmanuelle rolled her eyes.
‘She’s fine,’ she insisted. ‘Teresa is strong and capable. I know that; Lord Gawain and the rest of the council knows that. She’s up to it. Aren’t you?’
Emmanuelle met Teresa’s gaze and waited. This was the chance to show she was made of the same stuff as the rest of the council – bravery, talent, selflessness…
‘Of course I am,’ Teresa said firmly. She could be scared; it didn’t have to stop her from doing what needed to be done. ‘I’m ready.’
Emmanuelle removed the chunky silver ring from her thumb and placed it in the centre of the table. Teresa observed it for a few moments, committing its appearance to memory, before she took it and began to turn it over in her hands, learning its dimensions, its every curve and scratch. Its energy, too, had to be fully understood and appreciated if it was to be recreated. For a simpler illusion this much preparation would be unnecessary, but this one had to be perfect. There could be no mistake.
Minutes passed in silence. She thought of nothing but the ring, this ring, which could cause so much trouble. Its surface was warm with touch, but would cool if left alone. The stone set into it was dented with several scratches, and the shape engraved into it was worn, but still distinguishable. The metal of the band had a slightly swollen feel to it, undoubtedly the result of the incredible power pumped through it, and which it still held. This ring had served the White Elm for centuries, and Teresa could feel the memories, pains and joys of each long decade etched eternally into every millimetre of silver.
Eventually, the ring ceased to feel unusual in Teresa’s hand. She understood it now, and it was familiar. She closed her eyes, keeping her understanding of the ring at the forefront of her mind. Her fists closed, too, and power surged through her, willed and directed. She loosened the fingers of her left hand as she felt something cold growing against her palm. Her creation was taking shape, and it needed room.
Teresa opened her eyes and her hands. In each palm, a chunky, plain silver ring lay, shining dully in the light, projecting identical auras of potency and dark power.
‘It’s done,’ she said, unnecessarily. The proof was evident, sitting in her outstretched hands.
‘I knew you could do it,’ Emmanuelle said, smiling as she admired the two rings. Teresa tipped them both onto the tabletop, where they rolled and clinked together, eventually coming to stillness. Aubrey picked one up and held it to the light, narrowing his eyes and trying to find fault. He couldn’t.
‘How do we know which one is real?’ he asked.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Emmanuelle said, holding the other out to Jadon and Samuel to see – they had given up on the dishes and they were leaning over the bench top, curious. Samuel took it. ‘We will keep them both as safe as if they were both genuine.’
Samuel squeezed the ring he held between his fingers, and tapped it gently against the bench top.
‘I can’t believe this isn’t real,’ he admitted, throwing it lightly into the air and catching it. ‘All of my senses are telling me this is real, but it isn’t.’
Teresa smiled, but didn’t bother to tell him that the one he held was real. The two pieces were perfectly identical, with no way of knowing which was which, but she, the creator, would always be able to tell. The real thing was familiar, but the illusion was connected to her being by the constant, fine stream of magic it required to exist.
The rings were compared and then swapped hands. Emmanuelle turned to Jadon and Samuel, and the three of them began to search their ring for the distinguishing markings Emmanuelle recalled. Teresa folded her arms, pleased with her work, and sidled closer to Aubrey to view the illusion she had created. Nobody would ever guess that it wasn’t real, at least not until she lost it and it began to fade away, as all wishes, ideas and fabrications do when there’s no one around to believe in them.
‘Which one is real?’ Aubrey asked, rolling the illusion between his fingers. His senses believed that it took up space – so it did. Teresa smiled.
‘I’ll let you guess,’ she said, teasing, feeling light and carefree. The stresses of the past few days seemed to have lifted from her shoulders in light of her latest achievement.
‘It really is incredible work,’ Aubrey confirmed, as though he’d known what she was thinking.
‘I wasn’t sure I could do it,’ Teresa admitted, though Aubrey must ha
ve known this already. ‘I kept thinking what a crazy idea it was. I couldn’t understand what I’d been thinking, to tell Renatus that I was capable of that kind of magic. But apparently I am.’
She felt herself smiling, but Aubrey’s face took on a dark look at the mention of the Dark Keeper.
‘Do you trust him?’ he asked, keeping his voice soft so that Emmanuelle wouldn’t hear. Teresa shrugged, her eyes on her creation. How to answer a question like that? Yes; but no.
Yes, because it seemed clear that Renatus loved Lord Gawain as much as the old Seer loved the Dark Keeper. He showed it very differently but the feeling was there. He served the council. He’d never yet stepped out of line or done anything wrong.
No, because, in short, he scared her. He had a life story that could be adapted into a horror film. He didn’t seem particularly nice and nobody else liked him.
‘I have to,’ she said finally, in response to Aubrey’s challenging question. ‘We all have to.’
Aubrey went back to looking at the illusion he held and said nothing for a few moments. Teresa blinked, feeling a strange energetic twitch somewhere in her vicinity. She looked around, bemused, but couldn’t pick anything amiss.
‘I honestly believe that this is real,’ Aubrey said, handing the illusion ring back to Teresa, obviously not distracted by what Teresa thought she’d felt. He looked over at the others. ‘I would swear that it is, but they think theirs is just as real. You’ve done a great job.’
‘Thanks,’ Teresa said softly, turning her creation over in her hands as she felt another tiny flicker of misplaced energy. Was her illusion fading already? She cast her senses over it, searching it for flaw. There was none, and when she felt a third flick, right at the edge of her consciousness, she knew it was unconnected to her illusion.
The twitches became more frequent, so faint that she mightn’t have noticed, except that she was sensitive to her own spells. Something was happening to something of hers, though what, she had no clue. She had never felt this before – it reminded her of that irritating sensation when a fly creeps across a bare shoulder, but disappears before it can be swatted away, only to return.
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