Concealed Special Edition

by Christina Bauer

  Kamilla stood only inches away from me. With a snap of her fingers, a bone needle began edging toward my face. It pierced my cheek, its angle leading it directly toward my brain.

  This was it. I was good as dead.

  I took in a deep breath, although the movement caused a riot of pain in my punctured lungs. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be while groveling and telling lies.

  “So you know, Kamilla. I wanted to kill the Tsar. The Sire and Lady wouldn’t allow me to. And if I had the chance right now, I’d kill the Vicomte.”

  “How I’ll enjoy watching you die.” Kamilla slowly raised her hand, her fingers poised for a final snap that would mean my doom.

  She didn’t notice the haze of red mist forming behind her. Although my body was pierced through with agony, I could only smile.

  Rowan was coming.

  The red haze solidified into his familiar shape. Tall, broad shoulders, wide chest, and a body that was solid as a mountain. His hair was wild and his features were drawn tight with rage. He took one look at the scene before him and pulled out both the short swords from his back. The blades didn’t make a sound.

  Rowan leaped forward, kicking Kamilla to the ground. She rolled over and stared up at him, her eyes glazed over with confusion.

  “What?” She stammered. “How?”

  Rowan raised his short swords high. “I don’t like to kill women as a rule. But you know the saying. Destroy the mage; destroy the spell. And you’ve cast a bad spell.”

  Sweat beaded across her forehead. “I’ll take it back.” She snapped her fingers. The bone needles retracted into the floor. I fell forward onto my knees. Blood dripped from my mouth. My body was covered in tiny stab wounds. “See? She’s free now.”

  Rowan looked over to me. All the rage in the realm shone in his eyes. “Sometimes, I break my own rules.” He brought his swords down in a scissor-like motion and lopped off Kamilla’s head. Her face was frozen in a scream as her skull rolled across the floor.

  I couldn’t say I felt bad about that.

  The next thing I knew, Rowan scooped me into his arms. My eyes stung with tears. “Bone needles.” Every word made my lungs gurgle with blood.

  “Shh.” Rowan kissed my brow and began a low incantation of healing. Warmth and strength spread through my body. My wounds closed over into unscarred skin. I could breathe again.

  I wound my arms around his neck and pressed my cheek against his firm chest. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll always come for you, Elea.” He gently kissed my cheek.

  I released my hold and leaned back. I was completely healed. Even my dress was cleaned from all the tiny bloodstains. Rowan really was the finest mage I knew. Our gazes locked.

  “I know what you’re about to say, Elea. I don’t want you going back in that mansion. Go home and be safe. Please.” He rubbed my back in slow circles. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  Part of me wanted to believe him. I could walk away and all would be well, but even if Rowan could save Ada and the others, it was my mission to finish.

  “I have to return. I found out something from Kamilla.”

  “Who?”

  “The mage you just beheaded.” After so much pain, I was feeling positively giddy with health and vigor. I couldn’t resist smiling a little.

  “Ah, her.”

  “You know the celebrations for Theodora?” These were held every year. Even my own shire had a little masquerade ball to mark the occasion. I wasn’t sure if Rowan would know about them.

  “I’ve been made aware of them recently.”

  “The celebrations are two days of festivities. It starts off with a play and ends with a masquerade ball. The festivities take place across the continent. Which one were you made aware of?”

  “The ones held by the Montagne family. Their play will be held tonight in their gardens. Their masquerade ball takes place tomorrow.”

  Montagne. I knew that name. It was one of the ones that Amelia had listed as possibly hiding the Necromancers. Excitement sparked in my veins. A play tonight and a ball tomorrow. That meant two chances to find Ada and the others. “I need to go there.”

  “Those are rather exclusive events, I’m afraid.”

  I knew what that meant. A bastardess like me would never be allowed past the door. There was one person who could help me. The Marchioness. “I think I can get an invitation.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. Let me sneak you in as a Caster guard.”

  Caster women were small and pixie-like. I was tall and athletic. There was no way I’d blend in. Besides, Caster guards couldn’t go off solo and snoop for passages to whatever was hidden underground. “No, I’ll try to attend as a Royal.” I had a few ideas about how to convince the Marchioness. She didn’t like having Fantomes around. I might be able to help with that.

  “Who do you think can get you invited?”

  “The Marchioness.” Much as I hated it, I rose from his hold and smoothed out the folds of my dress. “If I go and speak with her, can you take care of this place?”

  Rowan’s gaze turned intense. “You won’t let me talk you out of this, will you?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He looked around. “In that case, do you prefer a herd of wild animals tearing the place apart or that I burn it to the ground?”

  “Burn it down. Once I’m well away, of course. I don’t want any signs of what happened here.”

  “As my Lady wishes.”

  We stood toe to toe, staring at each other. Tendrils of feeling and connection wound between us. It disobeyed every tenant of Necromancer control. I wasn’t sure how much I cared anymore.

  “Do you wish me to go with you?” asked Rowan.

  “No. The Marchioness will be more likely to help me without you there.”

  He blinked with mock-surprise. “I’m a member of the Caster Imperial family.”

  “Precisely. She had enough trouble adjusting to me as a bastard half sister to Amelia.” I pictured the anger on the Marchioness’s face when she spoke about having to endure a Fantome in her home. “Trust me. I know how to deal with her.” Maybe.

  “I’ll still be nearby if you need me. Just say Tamu. He can appear and disappear in a heartbeat if you’re in trouble, as you’ve already seen.”

  “I’ve seen. It’s a strong spell.” I stepped toward the door. “Thank you, Rowan.”

  Rowan leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Stay safe.”

  A headache started biting into my temples. All the weeks of searching were beginning to drain me. I shook it off and walked away.

  There will be time enough to sleep when the Necromancers are safe.

  For now, it was time to have a discussion with the Marchioness.

  11

  I sped back to the Havilland mansion. Some of the servants give me odd stares as I walked along the rolling green. Nothing surprising there. They probably didn’t expect to see me alive again. As a result, I took care to hold my head high and walk with purpose. Although the stares continued, no one actually stopped me.

  Soon, I pulled open the heavy wooden door to the reception room. The Marchioness and Amelia were sitting on a pair of high-backed chairs in the far corner. They stopped speaking when I entered.

  The Marchioness glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s Kamilla?”

  I closed the door behind me and scanned the room. No one here besides the Marchioness, Amelia, and me. Perfect.

  In other words, there was no reason to hide the truth. “She’s dead.”

  The Marchioness arched her brows. The look on her face ranked somewhere between fear and delight. “You killed her?”

  “Essentially.” I had called on Rowan to do the job, but I didn’t think that nuance bore explaining right now.

  Amelia slumped into her chair. “Fleur, no.”

  I sat down beside the Marchioness. “Don’t pretend to mourn her.”

  The Marchioness patted her golden wig. “I won’t.” H
er voice seethed with rage. “I’ve been a prisoner in my own home since the Vicomte sent that witch here. Do you think I enjoy sending strangers to their deaths? My beloved gallery now hides too many bodies under the floorboards. I wish it was gone.”

  You may get your wish. “I have a friend waiting in the gallery. Once I leave, it will burn down in a controlled fire. Keep your servants away.”

  The Marchioness set her hand at her throat. “A fire? How awful. We’ll have to rebuild. The Marquis won’t be pleased.” For a woman who’d just found out that a disaster was about to strike her property, she didn’t seem too upset.

  Amelia leaned forward. “You must understand. Fleur is doing this to protect you as well.”

  The Marchioness patted Amelia’s hand. “I do, Amelia. Believe me. Otherwise, I’d be screaming bloody murder right now.”

  And you’d be placed under a spell before you opened your mouth. I decided not to share that part, however. Still, the Marchioness seemed to want to say more. “But?”

  “It’s not like a Necromancer to be anything but a thorn in my side. I can’t help wondering.” The Marchioness leaned in closer to me. “What do you want?”

  No question there. “An ally.”

  “We both need one,” added Amelia.

  “I need an invitation to the celebrations for Theodora, both the play tonight and tomorrow’s ball.”

  The Marchioness waved her hand. “You’ll never get one of those. The Montagne family is ever so selective.” She focused on Amelia. “Your half-sister is another matter. That I can do.”

  I lowered my voice to a menacing note. “You’ll get invitations for Amelia, Philippe, and me.”

  “Or what?”

  “Do I need to tell the story of the gallery again?”

  “And why should I believe you about Kamilla?” The Marchioness folded her arms over her chest. “I should send a servant to inspect the gallery.”

  I stifled the urge to chuckle. “I really wouldn’t do that. They won’t come back alive. My friend who’s waiting there is a powerful mage. He has very explicit orders to kill any outsiders who set foot inside the gallery.”

  Which was a tiny lie. Rowan didn’t have such orders, but I also knew the man well enough. He’d see anyone checking in on the gallery as a threat. And when it came to me, Rowan was very protective. The thought sent a wave of warm feelings through my chest.

  Rowan saved me.

  The Marchioness paused, considering. A long minute ticked by before she spoke again. “I don’t believe you,” she said simply. “Kamilla was a Grand Mistress Necromancer.”

  “So am I.”

  The Marchioness smiled. “Please. None still live who can best a Fantome. This is all some kind of ruse.” She turned to Amelia. “Child, you must bring your bastardess sister back more often. She’s ever so entertaining.”

  Anger heated my bloodstream. Entertaining? My powers were many things. A source of entertainment wasn’t one of them. And after seeing the gallery, I knew Ada and the other Necromancers weren’t here. There was no time to waste with these silly games.

  Clearly, if the conversation was to move forward, the Marchioness needed more convincing.

  I was happy to oblige.

  Slowly rising to my feet, I lifted my arm and pulled in Necromancer energy. The bones in my left hand soon glowed blue. “My name is Elea. I’m the Grand Mistress Necromancer who sent the Tsar into exile.” I released my power, sending a cloud of blue smoke across the chamber floor. For extra effect, I added small silver lightning bolts into the depths. “Kamilla is dead. I need you help. What is your answer?”

  “I heard the stories, yet I never thought—” All the blood drained from the Marchioness’s face. “The Vicomte said that he was the one who sent the Tsar into exile. He used one of his machines.”

  “That’s a lie,” said Amelia. “Elea did it.”

  The Marchioness nodded slowly. “Elea.”

  At last, we were getting somewhere. “You asked me before what I wanted. Your gallery is going to burn to the ground. You will allow it to do so. You will say only lovely things about the visit today from Amelia, Philippe, and me.” I made the smoke billow higher about the chamber. “And you will get me an invitation to the Montagne play and ball.”

  The Marchioness frowned. “This is blackmail.”

  “You haven’t heard my full terms yet. As a gesture of my gratitude, I’ll cast spells across your entire property against future Necromancers. They won’t be able to hurt you and yours.”

  The Marchioness pursed her lips. “And?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Amelia. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “No,” said the Marchioness. “There’s always a catch.”

  “True,” I said. “The spells will protect me against you as well. If you betray me to the Vicomte, I’ll know. I’ll find you, and it won’t be pleasant.”

  The Marchioness rubbed her delicate fingers across her temples. She suddenly looked much older. “Believe me, I’d love to have some security against these awful mages. Even if you cast these wards, what good will it do? The Vicomte is sure to send another Fantome. Our family is too powerful to ignore.”

  “I can’t stop them from arriving, but with the proper spells, they won’t be able to harm you, your servants, or your property. I’ll add in spells of forgetfulness so they never contact the Vicomte about the wards.”

  “Interesting.” The Marchioness tapped her chin. “We’ve had a plague of fires this summer. It would be a believable way for Kamilla to die. And I would love a measure of protection from your kind. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  The Marchioness lifted her chin. “I agree to your terms.”

  A weight of worry dropped from my shoulders. “Excellent.”

  “How soon can you ward our property?”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow morning.” An acrid smell filled the air, and I knew exactly where it came from. “It would be best if we left now. I do believe your gallery is on fire.” I snapped my fingers, and the haze filling the room disappeared. “Be sure to act surprised when the servants arrive.”

  Across the chamber, the door whipped open. “Marchioness! There’s a fire!”

  The Marchioness did an admirable job of widening her eyes and gasping. “I’d better go.” She turned to me. “You can see yourselves out, I hope?”

  I curtsied. “Don’t worry about us.”

  As the Marchioness rushed from the room, Philippe rushed in. “Have you heard? There’s a fire!”

  “We know all about it.” Amelia stepped up and wrapped her arm protectively through mine. “I’ll explain everything at home.” She beamed at me. “But Elea has it all under control, just as she always does.”

  Philippe quirked his brows at me. “Is that how it works?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to say that Philippe was right—my emotions got the better of me all the time. But seeing the trusting look in Amelia’s big blue eyes, I couldn’t say any of that. She needed to think I was always in control.

  “I say it’s time for us to leave.”

  As I stepped out the door, I realized that Amelia wasn’t the only one who should question my skills. I got through today by the skin of my teeth. What would tomorrow bring? Too many people were relying on me, and my control was clearly at a breaking point. A leaden feeling settled into my bones.

  Perhaps it’s just a matter of time before I got us all killed.

  12

  Late morning light sifted through the trees. Everything seemed cast in an emerald glow as I strode through the woods behind the Havilland estate. I’d been at it for hours, searching for the perfect places to set up my protection spells.

  I paused beside one of the larger trees—a massive fir—and reached out with my mage senses. My last spell was now so far enough away. The magick was barely detectable. It was time to cast again.

  Frustration tightened up my neck and shoulders. I’d wanted to be done by now. Unfortunately, the
lands here were so vast, it was all taking longer than I’d like. I needed to return to Amelia’s and get ready for tonight’s ball.

  A red mist appeared on the ground. Excitement twisted through my stomach.

  Creation Caster magick.

  The mist swirled upward, solidifying into the familiar outline of Rowan. I wanted to run over and embrace him. Instead, I stayed stock-still and calm looking.

  Even so, I greedily soaked in the sight of him. Rowan stood tall and broad-shouldered in his fitted brown leathers. A pair of short swords was strapped to his back. All this was the classic garb for a Creation Caster, but the loose brown hair, piercing green eyes, and rugged features were all Rowan. His mouth tilted into a crooked smile. My body suddenly felt overheated even though I stood in the shade.

  “Elea.”

  “Rowan.”

  “I needed to see you. Are you well? Fully recovered?” He stepped closer. My pulse sped faster.

  “I’m fine.” There were a dozen things I wanted to say in this moment. How I felt about him. The danger my emotions embodied. The way I desperately wanted to kiss him again.

  “You look perfect.”

  “Thank you.” A blush colored my cheeks. I stepped back under the cool shade of the fire tree, leaned against the huge trunk, and forced my features into the classic show of Necromancer calm. Don’t lose your head. Keep control. I cleared my throat. “Since you’re here, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Anything.”

  “Amelia’s been helping me search for my lost Sisters. Yesterday, she got some strange news.”

  Suddenly, there stood six-plus feet of Rowan right before me, his body giving off waves of heat. He rested his palms on the massive trunk so his arms framed my head. At least a foot of space still separated us. His green eyes turned so intense. “What did you hear?”

  “Someone’s asking for Amelia’s hand in marriage.”