"In what?" Ryker ping pongs his gaze between Beck and me.
"The assassination attempt on me this evening."
The color drains from Ryker's face. "What? When? Where?"
Beck quickly runs through the story, and as he does, Ryker becomes more agitated. "Amateurs," he says at one point. He paces before us. "And now Annalise is pregnant. You're down your best guard."
"I know," I say, as fear, horror and all the emotions I've kept tamped down begin to bubble to the surface.
"You okay, Birdie?" Beck asks.
I shake my head. "I'm about to explode. I can't take much more today."
"Here," Beck tosses a piece of offensive magic at me, and I wallop it back at him. He sidesteps, but manages to fling it across the room at Ryker. Ryker forms a crude shield around himself, and the magic slides to the floor and dissipates. "Do you feel better?"
I want to smile at Beck's attempt to help me, but all I do is hang my head and shake it.
"Lark?" Ryker says, gently. Like he's afraid I may attack him for real. "What if I become one of your guards?"
My mouth drops open, and I snap it shut. Maybe he has a point. Ryker is doing no one any good sitting here in my room. Then again, he did promise to kill me.
I knot my hands together. Turning him over to Annalise would get him out of my room. I stare at the ground and exhale loudly.
"Where would you live?" I ask.
"Here?"
I rub my hands over my face. "Let me think on it."
#
"Beck," I say, as I comb out my long, chestnut colored hair. "What if instead of living in my sitting room, we move Ryker to Miss Tully's rooms? She knows him already, and she has the space."
He rubs a towel over his damp hair and then shakes his head at me like a wet dog. "Do you trust her?"
More than anyone else - including Beck these days. "Completely. She's the only human working here, and she hasn't exposed us. She'd tell me if she suspected him of anything."
Beck's bare torso fascinates me, and I let my eyes and mind wander to places they shouldn't. At least not at this moment. We have work to finish. Plus, Ryker is just one room over with the door open.
"You should be the one to talk to her," Beck says. "You're the one with the relationship."
I set my brush down and stand. My pale blue robe falls a little loose, so I tighten the tie. "I'll go see her now."
The house is unusually quiet - especially after the day's events. I expected to see guards everywhere, but I only pass one on my way to the servant's quarters. I check my wristlet thinking perhaps it's later than I thought, but no, it's only 8:30. The house should be buzzing with activity as the staff prepares for tomorrow.
Miss Tully's rooms, along with the rest of the staffs', are located on the basement level. It's not a true basement since it's technically the first floor of the house. It also keeps the electric transporter that is only used for special occasions like bindings and funerals.
A wreath of holly berries and willow branches hangs from Miss Tully's door. I wonder if she made it herself. It's so pretty. Perhaps she can make one for our front door, but larger. With a quick look down the hall - it's unusual for residents to visit the servants' quarters - I knock on the door. Miss Tully answers promptly.
"Lark," she exclaims. "What's wrong?"
I smile, and a laugh tumbles out of me. "Must something be wrong for me to visit?"
Miss Tully narrows her eyes and gives me that look. The one that tell me she knows I'm up to something. "Come in. I'm afraid I haven't tidied up yet, so please forgive the mess."
Her quarters are spotless. "You have lovely accommodations," I say.
"Most likely because you own such a beautiful home."
She fluffs a pillow before allowing me to sit down. "Tea?" she asks, getting up to make it.
"Let me," I say, and with a swish of my hand a tea service complete with petit fours appears.
Miss Tully eyes the spread. "I know you're up to something. Spill it."
With that I launch into the story of Ryker: his promise; how he was caught with the others but wasn't in a box; my concern he may be working with the Splinter group; and lastly, how despite all this, he's hiding in my sitting room, and I'd like to move him to her rooms, if she'd let me.
At the end of my monologue, Miss Tully pours another cup of tea for herself and settles back into her chair. "You want me to watch over him?"
"Kind of. I'm going to turn him over to Annalise. He wants to fill in as a guard - especially since I'm down one with Annalise being pregnant." I blow on my tea. "By the way, she's going to be living here now, too."
Miss Tully's mouth drops open. "Lark, I don't understand why you're doing this. You're suspicious of him. You should turn him over to Annalise immediately."
"I'm doing it for Beck. He believes Ryker isn't behind the attacks."
"Yes, darling, I understand, but that boy...something isn't right about him. I know you don't want to hear it, but there it is."
I cross my arms against my chest. "He's recovering from trauma - both what I did to him and what Eamon did."
"There is only so much you can excuse though, Lark." She drums her fingers against her thigh. "Perhaps you need to step back and look at the situation more objectively. Beck is not himself."
I splay my hands wide before closing them. "If you don't want to help, then say so. But I can't promise I won't make you. And trust me, being tongue-tied isn't fun."
"Now, Lark," Miss Tully says. Her eyes appear damp, like she may almost cry. "I simply want what's best for you. If this is what you believe to be that path, I will support you. But I must, I absolutely must say, that I fear keeping Ryker near is a danger to you."
As much as I agree with her, I can't back down. "I insist," I say. "We'll move him down within the hour."
I set my tea cup back on the low table and stand. "It will only be for a little while. I promise."
"Very well, but if he so much as sneezes wrongly, I will alert Annalise."
I hug Miss Tully, and she stiffens beneath my grasp. "Thank you," I say. "For everything."
#
Annalise's room is at the far side of my house, overlooking the back garden. It's the best bedroom in the house after mine. I shuffle down the hallway, passing rooms used for newscasts, meetings, and other business. It's like having a mini-State department in my own home.
I pause outside her door before knocking. If she's resting, I don't want to wake her.
"Annalise?" I say softly. "Are you awake?"
"Come in, Lark." I turn the handle and let myself in. Annalise sits on her bed, still dressed in her day clothes. "What can I do for you?"
My heart hammers against my chest. I have no idea how to start this conversation, so I say, "Are your accommodations satisfactory?"
An amused smile dances across Annalise's lips. "Is that what you really want?"
I shake my head.
"What is it?"
I stare at my hands. "I know where Ryker is." No point in delaying the news.
Annalise inhales sharply. Her face turns to stone, completely emotionless. "Where is he?"
I bite the inside of my lip as I weigh my options. If I tell her right away, she may send guards up to arrest him. "If I tell you, what are you going to do?"
She gives me an incredulous look. "Arrest him. He's our prime suspect in the attack against you."
"He didn't do it. I'm positive." I lift my chin and look Annalise straight in the eyes. "And so is Beck."
She laughs. "Well, if Beck thinks Ryker is innocent, then by all means he must be."
"What does that mean?"
Annalise waves her hand. "Nothing." She slides off the bed. "What do you want me to do with him?"
Deep breath. "I want him to join my guard - especially now that you're on administrative duties only."
"You want your ex-mate and possible assassin to join your guard. Are you crazy?"
"Test him," I say. "Put him th
rough rigorous testing, and if he fails, arrest him. If he passes, he joins my guard."
Annalise swallows loudly. She turns her attention to the window. Wind rattles the panes slightly. "Fine. I agree. Now where is he?"
I wipe my hands on the skirt of my dress. "In my sitting room."
Her mouth drops open. "How long has he been here?"
"A few days."
With carefully measured steps, she crosses the room to where I stand near the door. "Well come along, Lark. We have a possible terrorist to interrogate."
#
The machine whirls and chirps. Ryker lies prone on the table with his eyes closed and his fingertips latched into a scanner. A band of wires surrounds his head.
"What's happening?" I ask.
Annalise puts her finger over her lips, shushing me.
On the table, Ryker doesn't move.
"Is he asleep?" I whisper.
"Yes, we placed him in a twilight state to relax his brain enough for us to get a clear picture of what he knows."
I study Ryker. He seems comfortable. It's much better than the fireballs and heavy air traps I imagined she'd use on him.
Annalise studies her tablet and makes no sound. I have no idea whether Ryker is passing or not. Anxiety gnaws at me. If he's lying...
After about ten minutes, which seems like a million years, Annalise releases the band around Ryker's head and removes the fingertip scanners. Ryker continues to sleep.
"So, how did he do?"
My sister-in-law presses her lips together. "Looks like you have a new guard."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Everyone has their own agenda. That's the most important thing I've learned since taking office.
Sun-Wei wants to focus on the war with the Eastern Society, I want to end the food shortages and smash the Splinter group, Annalise wants to protect the Dark witches from both humans and Light witches, and Beck - well I'm not sure what he wants other than to be with me.
It's a testament to Mother's skills that she was able to get anything accomplished. So far, the best I've been able to do is get the Council to agree to the evacuations. Right now, I'm trying to convince them to send me to Summer Hill with Beck, who, after conferring with the Council, is delaying his trip to the Eastern Society. The thought is that it's too dangerous for him at the moment, so close to the latest attack.
Callum, who isn't present, is going to throw a fit, which means I'm going to have to find something else for him to do. What, is the question.
"How soon can you leave?" Minister Sun-Wei asks.
"Today, if necessary," I respond.
I won't lie, going to Summer Hill scares me a little. Having Beck with me should make things better, but there are so many painful memories now associated with the place that I'd rather not go. Too bad there aren't any other options, at least not if I want my people to eat. And with all the refugees pouring into San Francisco, I need food, and I need it fast.
Annalise checks her green wristlet. "We should go now, before word gets out."
That's another thing I've learned: confidential meetings have a way of being leaked.
I push back from the table. "We'll leave now. Annalise, contact Eloise and Henry, and have them meet us."
#
We don't bother to notify Summer Hill we're coming. Nor do we go through with the ridiculous charade of taking the train. Instead, my guard – and Beck's now too – hastily plan a transport to just outside the perimeter of Summer Hill. Annalise has left Landon in charge of our security – something that doesn't exactly thrill me. But what is to be done?
I stare at my new guards. None of them familiar or friendly as my old group, but at least Kyra and Ryker are here.
And so here I am, once again standing outside the invisible bubble surrounding the house and grounds. Inside, as always, the sun shines brightly and long grass sways in the breeze. Outside, where we are, snow pounds us from every direction.
"If my parents didn't know you were here, they will when they see this," Beck says, gesturing to the snow and ice.
"Must be my nerves," I answer. Seeing the Channings has made me a mess. The last time I was here, I was running away from the Light witches who wanted to kill me.
I turn to my left where Henry and Eloise stand. "Is there an easy way in or do we need to blow it up like last time?"
Beck blanches. "No blowing things up today, Birdie." He holds out his hand and mumbles something under his breath quickly. So fast, in fact, I can't make out the words. Which I think is the point.
I would have done the same thing.
My heart sinks. We still don't fully trust each other.
An opening appears, and snow is sucked into the bubble. Landon climbs through first, followed by another guard whose name I've yet to remember. Then me, Beck, Henry and Eloise, and the rest of our guard.
The scorching summer sun beats down on me, and I shed my coat and warming spell. Underneath, I wear a pale purple sundress and my necklace. Boots still cover my calves, and I wave my hand, replacing them with a pair of sandals.
Beck laughs. "Are you done making yourself beautiful?"
I huff. "It's hot. Would you rather I melt?" I notice he, too, has removed his jacket and stands in just his shirtsleeves and lightweight pants.
"C'mon. Mom and Dad are most likely in the house."
We're taking a risk coming here. The last intelligence from Summer Hill was that Patrick, Beck's father, had completely lost control of the Light witches, but we're hoping beyond hope that a few still follow the Channing family and haven't sided with the Splinter group.
Unlike my last visit, no one is hiding in the knee-deep grass, and Bethina doesn't wait on the porch.
How innocent I was once.
We form a single line up the stairs, and Beck opens the unlocked front door.
"Mom? Dad?" he calls out.
The sound of something clattering at the back of the house sets my guards on alert, but Beck remains calm, so I do too.
At the end of the long hallway, Mrs. Channing comes running out, a smile on her face that promptly disappears when she sees me.
"What is she doing here?" Her long finger points at me. "How could you bring her here?"
I hold up my hands. "Margo, I'm here for your help. Not to hurt you or anyone else. We want to broker a peace between the Light and Dark witches."
Mrs. Channing snorts. "Is that all you want, Lark?"
"Yes."
She motions toward the front parlor, and we all file in one-by-one. Beck and I squeeze onto the antique love seat while Margo sits across from us. Our guards line the perimeter of the room. A faint pop at the far end by the door signals Mr. Channing's arrival, and my guards all react by immediately turning toward him with their hands in a defensive position.
"What's this?" he asks, eyeing us with suspicion.
"Beck has decided to bring Lark into our home again." Her lips pinch together before continuing. "Apparently, the two of them have the ridiculous notion that a peace can be brokered."
Patrick Channing strides across the room. In the past, he always seemed more of a man of leisure than any sort of figurehead. Today, however, he lacks his typical glass of scotch, and he stares each of us down.
"Really?" he growls.
I close my eyes and imagine the Channings relaxing and welcoming us with the same warmth they used to when I was a child.
"Where are my manners?" Margo exclaims. "Would either of you like a drink?"
Beck says, "Just some ice water for me. Lark?"
"Water is fine," I answer.
And like that, Mrs. Channing presents us with a tall pitcher of water and two glasses that she fills with a swish of her hand.
"Now," says Mr. Channing settling into an armchair. "Explain to me what this peace would look like."
Beck pats my hand, and I take it as a sign to lay out our vision.
"My first priority as Head of State is to secure enough food for all members of our Society. Peo
ple are starving, and as long as they are starving, they are susceptible to the Splinter group's lies."
"So what you want isn't to feed the people, but to stop a rogue group of Light witches from overthrowing your regime," Patrick says. "Still, and always protecting Dark witch interests." He turns his attention to Beck. "I'm surprised you're willing to go along with such a transparent power grab."
Beck leans forward, elbows on knees. The vein in his neck bulges. "We want the people to eat," he snarls.
Shivers run down my spine. Beck never speaks like this. But sitting here, next to him, I feel the anger rolling off him. His hands clench in fists.
"Mr. and Mrs. Channing," I say, trying to ease the tension. "Both Beck and I would welcome the addition of Light witches to the Council and our advisory board. If there are any names you'd like to put forward, I'd favorably receive them."
Mrs. Channing watches me closely before darting her gaze over my shoulder. "Henry, Eloise, I almost didn't notice you cowering back there. Come join us."
My uncle and friend walk across the room and stand near Beck and me.
"Was this your idea, Henry?" Mrs. Channing asks. "Surely, Lark didn't come up with it on her own."
My uncle lays his hand on my shoulder. "Lark isn't the same girl she was when she was here last."
Mrs. Channing narrows her eyes. "That's right, I forgot, she's become a murderous, out-of-control nightmare."
Magic burns inside me, aching for a release. It races along my spine and radiates down my arms and into my fingers. Determined to control myself and not prove Mrs. Channing right, I sit on my hands. My fingers twitch beneath me, but I manage to keep my magic contained.
Beck tenses, and he cracks his knuckles. One at a time, like a fighter preparing for a match.
I grab his hand and begin drawing small circles across the back. Perhaps it will calm him the way it does me.
It doesn't work.
Instead, he shakes off my hand.
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