by Jeff Wheeler
“I’m not complaining. I noticed you came and told Lady Corinne something. Bad news?”
“To put it mildly, yes,” he answered. He rubbed his temples. “Lady Corinne has leased a floating manor to Miss Patchett and her brother. I just received word that Mr. Patchett punched his steward in the face not long after his sister left to come here.”
“He did what?” Sera asked with surprise.
“I do not have all the details, ma’am. But it does not bode well for the future.”
“Indeed not,” said Sera. “How did Lady Corinne come to know the Patchetts?” There was a good chance he would not answer her, of course, but the butler sometimes surprised her.
Sewell shrugged, looking disinterested. “Their father was an admiral from Pry-Ree. Very brave, very committed. A personal friend of Lord Lawton’s. They served together in many campaigns. Randall Patchett, the eldest child, is a brave lad, but they say his father’s death unhinged him. The boy has developed a reputation for being hotheaded.”
“So this isn’t the first time he’s punched someone?”
“Sometimes the young men brawl with one another in the Ministry of War. It’s normal. They say he’s part of the betting pool and has knocked down men much bigger than himself. Bare-knuckle fighting.”
“I see. And this brother and sister inherited a sky manor, you say?”
“Not inherited. Leased. They live in Gimmerton Sough in the north. It’s by Fog Willows.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of it. No one has lived there in years.”
“True. Admiral Patchett died with a great amount of wealth. He kept an eye on Lawton’s investments and tended to follow his friend’s lead. It’s not easy to acquire a sky manor these days. I think the Lawtons plan to sell it to the boy and his sister if they ripen in maturity. Seems to me that Lord Lawton asked his wife to bring them under her wing and tame them.
“They’re an interesting pair—the brother is impulsive, and the sister is unflappable. Their steward has the right to control their wealth lest they squander it. Only the son can inherit, but the admiral didn’t think him mature enough to handle the responsibility.”
Sera had heard of such a thing happening before. It was going on in Lord Fitzroy’s own family. It occurred to her that Cettie and Joanna would likely get along. Having these new neighbors might prove interesting for the Fitzroys. If she had another chance to talk to Joanna, she would tell her so. Part of her longed to ask the other girl to pass a missive along to Cettie, but she didn’t dare. After all, Lady Corinne had brought Joanna into this circle. She didn’t want to get the young woman in trouble with her benefactress—nor did she wish to be accused of not following the rules.
She looked at Sewell shrewdly. “Before the fog comes in, there’s always a little change in the smell of the air. Have you noticed?”
“I have, ma’am. And you’re astute to have noticed it. I see your little book of drawings. You like to observe things. And people.”
She felt a flush of gratitude at his praise. Then she saw Lady Corinne reenter the sitting room. The conversation shifted in tone immediately in response to her arrival. The power the woman wielded was uncanny.
Lady Corinne approached her and Master Sewell directly. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sera. “You must come with me to Lockhaven, Sera,” she said in a firm, unemotional voice. “The privy council wishes to speak with you again.”
Master Sewell looked shocked by the news, but he quickly composed himself. “I’ll make her bags ready, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Lady Corinne answered. Before he left, she caught his sleeve and dropped her voice lower, but Sera was close enough to hear it. “Lady Flora is no longer welcome at Pavenham Sky. Send her away at once.”
CHAPTER SIX
LADY CORINNE
The next morning, Sera and the mistress of Pavenham Sky boarded the tempest together and soon were rushing toward the rising sun on their way to Lockhaven and the privy council. Sera was excited for the reprieve from her confinement and determined to tread carefully with her father. She wanted him to see a young woman subdued and broken, even though she wasn’t.
Along the journey, Lady Corinne kept to her stateroom, giving Sera free roam of the deck, but eventually the lady ventured out to talk to the pilot about timing. The weather was fair, though there were storm clouds to the north. It almost seemed as if the tempest was racing the clouds to their destination.
After observing Lady Corinne and the pilot, Sera wandered toward the staterooms in the hopes of intercepting the lady—without seeming to do so—when she came down from the upper deck.
Moments later, Lady Corinne came down the stairs.
There were never many pleasantries between them, so Sera plunged in with her question directly. “Did Lady Flora do something to offend you, my lady?”
A tightening of her eyes was the only betrayal of emotion. Her mouth was still neutral, showing neither favor nor disfavor.
“Does it matter, Miss Fitzempress?”
“It matters to her,” Sera said, keeping her own tone mild, trying to seem merely curious. “It will matter a great deal to her family, I suppose. Having lost your favor.”
“So it will,” Corinne replied.
“It’s none of my concern, of course. I’ve never liked Flora, but from all I’ve observed, she’s one of your most ardent imitators. Why cut her loose?”
“I don’t have to tell you my reasons.”
“I know,” Sera said with a shrug. She thought she’d try another tactic. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve learned a lot about power from watching you. You wield it very subtly. That’s all.”
“You overstate my influence,” Lady Corinne replied blandly.
“Not at all,” Sera said with a chuckle. “You’re the most powerful woman in the empire. I’m in awe of you. Sorry for bothering you.” Sera turned to leave, hoping she had added enough honey to the flattery to encourage the woman to talk.
“Miss Fitzempress.”
Sera paused, resisting the urge to smile at her little triumph. She turned around, arching her eyebrows expectantly.
“No one is ever really secure in a position of power. Not even the prime minister. The ground is always shifting. The times changing. When a rival seeks to supplant you, sometimes it’s best to knock them down when it’s easiest to do so.” She gave Sera a knowing look, one that revealed the tiniest glimpse of her character. Corinne said nothing else but strode down the remaining steps and disappeared into her stateroom. Sera stared at the closed door for a long while, savoring her small success. Lady Corinne had let down her guard, just a fraction. Yes, Sera had once been her rival. Now she was powerless. But it would not always be so.
Sera went to her own stateroom and quietly shut the door. Then she punched her pillow, once, twice, her face twisted with anger. Those two punches were the only release she allowed herself before she brought her emotions under control again. Screaming and raving would do no good. She must learn to be wise. But she swore in her heart that if she got a chance, she would see Lady Corinne finally come crashing down.
There was a timid knock on the door of Sera’s stateroom. Sera left behind the book she had been reading and crossed the small space to see who was there. One of Lady Corinne’s maids stood there, a girl no older than twelve. The household employed so many maids that Sera couldn’t remember this one’s name. The girl had a frightened look on her face and large brown eyes.
“Yes? Is something the matter?” Sera asked.
The girl cowered. She looked about to speak, but she shivered and shook her head no.
“What’s wrong?” Sera asked, more tenderly than before.
The girl swallowed and shook her head again. She glanced back at the small corridor. “I beg your pardon, Miss. We’re nearly there.”
Sera gazed down at the young woman. What family had she come from to enable her to serve at Pavenham Sky?
“Thank you for telling me,” Sera said, touchin
g the young girl’s dark hair. She remembered being that age. The girl shrank from her touch, as if frightened she’d get in trouble for the small kindness. She scurried away.
Sera went back to the main deck when the City came into sight. The usual fog was suppressed over the river, but the haze and smoke that rose from the crowded dwellings obscured the sky in brownish gray plumes. Her gaze was immediately drawn to several new structures that rose from the city proper like spikes. They were a new style of building, quite tall and narrow. Scaffolding was erected around each one, and as their tempest drew closer, she could see laborers working on them. She’d not seen such construction before. Sera mounted the steps to the helmsman’s deck and asked the pilot about them.
“Those are siege towers, lass,” he said with disdain in his voice.
“What?” Sera exclaimed in surprise.
“The populace is malcontented because of the war. They think they’ve borne the brunt of it, and they’re seething in rebellion. Some of the richer ones, those who can’t afford to live above, are combining to build those towers to fling rocks at Lockhaven. Course, the council sends zephyrs over to knock ’em down before they get too high. Some advocates have been stirring the rabble up. Durrant being one of the chief among them. You remember that one, don’t you, lass?”
His look smoldered with anger. Oh, she knew that name. Mr. Durrant had been her advocate for years, right up until her banishment. He, too, had been banished, but only from Lockhaven. So much had happened while she was imprisoned in her dollhouse . . .
The only news she had learned was what she’d gleaned from overhearing others talk.
Lady Corinne joined them on deck as they descended to Lockhaven. They did not go to the Lawtons’ manor but went directly to court. Sera’s insides twisted with anticipation, but she kept her expression calm. She noticed the young servant girl slip back down the stairs toward the staterooms.
“Come with me,” Lady Corinne said to Sera as the crew fixed the gangplank. They approached the court together. Sera had not been there in a while because of her past disgrace, and she noticed some vast changes since her last visit. Her father had spent a great deal on the ornamentation. Why he’d done this in the midst of a war, she had no idea. Some of the tower spikes at court seemed glazed with gold. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight glimmered. People bowed and curtsied to Lady Corinne. But not to Sera. She didn’t care.
They reached the council chamber and found that the full council had not assembled. There was her father on his throne, which had been rebuilt into a more dazzling display of wealth. It was higher now, gilded and sparkling as much as the rings on his fingers. He wore sumptuous clothes that couldn’t conceal his ever-expanding girth. His hair was covered by a large wig that looked, frankly, annoyingly silly. His eyes lingered on Lady Corinne as she entered the room, and when they finally shifted to Sera, she watched his lips twitch in agitation.
The prime minister was also there, Lord Welles, whom she despised because of what he’d done to her. There was also another man there, wearing a dark gray vest and the white cravat of a vicar. She didn’t recognize him.
“My dear Miss Fitzempress,” the prime minister said with a congenial smile. “You’ve bloomed into a handsome young woman. I almost didn’t recognize you.” He came forward to take her hand and squeezed it firmly. His gray hair was more feathered with white now, and he looked like a man under a huge weight of responsibility. But his eyes were still calculating and sharply intelligent.
“It is good to see you again, Prime Minister,” Sera replied deferentially, bowing her head. She glanced at her father again, seeing his cool regard, and dipped her head submissively to him as she gave a low curtsy—a sign of respect accorded to his power and station. A satisfied look turned his face. Was he impressed by her little act? He had never once visited her during her confinement, though she suspected he saw quite a bit of Lady Corinne. Mother had come to see her, but not as often as had been promised.
“Seraphin, this is the high seer—Allanom Scott.” Those were her father’s first words to her. “He’s the Minister of Thought. I don’t believe you know him.”
Sera shook her head no and then bowed to the new acquaintance. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Fitzempress,” he said in a formal, detached way. He said nothing else, but his aloofness indicated that she wasn’t very highly regarded.
“I brought her as requested, Your Majesty,” Lady Corinne said, bowing.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” he said, giving her a ghastly grin. She was about to turn and leave, but he lifted a finger. “Stay, if you would, Lady Corinne.”
Welles shot the emperor a sharp look. “My lord, we discussed—”
“I know, I know. But I’ve changed my mind now that I see the princess standing before me. Best to get it over with quickly, Prime Minister. It may come to nothing after all. You know how headstrong she’s always been.”
Sera prickled at the condescending rebuke, spoken as if she weren’t standing directly in front of him. But she didn’t bristle or anger. She imagined herself on the shore beneath Pavenham Sky, hearing the surf crash against the myriad of sea creatures there. No matter how hard the sea crashed, the creatures didn’t budge. Neither would she.
Lord Welles sighed. The meeting wasn’t going as he had planned. “Very well, Your Highness.” He flashed a wary look at Lady Corinne. There was some history between them, of course. If nothing else, they had been allied in their efforts to keep Sera out of the way.
“My dear,” Welles said to Sera, giving her an encouraging look. “There is a matter we wish to discuss with you. This war has claimed the lives of thousands of young men on either side of the mirror gates. It’s been impossible to keep an accurate tally of all the dead. Our two worlds have been grinding at each other for three years now. The people are starting to revolt. They want us to sue for peace.”
Her father was growing more agitated as Welles spoke. She could see the resentment and fury building up inside him. He hated to be told what to do—especially by those who lived below. He gripped the armrests of his majestic throne so tightly his knuckles went white.
“Lord Fitzroy, the lord high admiral, has put forth the suggestion of an armistice. We have deliberately permitted them to be the aggressors instead of attempting to invade their world. It has been a costly strategy, but not as costly as theirs. With each attack, they drain their resources more and more, especially since we have been able to predict their movements. But this cannot go on much longer. We need a cessation of violence as much as they do. They are summoning their forces for another offensive. If they manage to shatter our lines this time, we may lose the leverage we now have. But I’m confident we will hold them. It is a critical hour, Miss Fitzempress. Our spies have informed us that our best chance to broker a peace may be in the aftermath of this battle. Should they suffer a defeat, their ears will be open for an offer.”
She believed him. There was conviction in his words and no small amount of worry. The last she knew, the world of Kingfountain had created a new kind of ship, one that could travel beneath the waves. Although the powers of the warring factions were quite different, they were evenly balanced and had remained so. Neither side could gain the upper hand. Victory seemed impossible for either side.
“I appreciate the severity of the situation, Prime Minister. How can I help?”
Lord Welles looked relieved by her response. He turned and gestured for the high seer to speak.
Allanom Scott had a deep scowl on his face. “It is my understanding, Miss Fitzempress, that you haven’t taken the Test at Muirwood Abbey since your disgrace. I have not approved it happening at any rate, but I should like you to confirm it.”
“I have not, my lord,” Sera said simply.
The high seer nodded and sniffed. He tapped his lip and started to pace. “The Crown Prince of Kingfountain still has not chosen a wife. There is great pressure on him to do so, to sire an heir
to the hollow crown. His own position is, shall we say, precarious. Their top general, the Duke of La Marche, has won great esteem on the battlefield. They say he harbors ambitions of his own to become a rival emperor. An armistice would serve in the interests of both worlds. The next battle may prove costly to both sides.” His lips twitched. “Seraphin Fitzempress, could you find it in your conscience to renounce your religion, should that be required in a peace treaty between our realms?”
Now she understood. They wanted to use her as a political pawn just as they had before, only this time it was different. They wanted her to betray her own conscience. She couldn’t imagine that Lord Fitzroy was behind this ploy. He would never have asked her to do such a thing. She couldn’t imagine Thomas Abraham asking it of her either.
Everyone was watching her, studying her for a sign of her inclination. Would she be pliable and bend to their wishes? If not, no doubt she’d be sent directly back to Pavenham Sky. She needed time to think. To reason it through. But she had no time. What was the right answer?
She decided quickly. She would bend, but she would not break.
“It would be very difficult for me,” Sera said in a submissive voice. There might still be time to stave off disaster another way. Maybe the prince would reject her anyway. Maybe she wouldn’t have to actually go through with it . . .
She lowered her eyes and pressed on. “But I submit to the will of the council.”
Our spies tell us the empire we face has a harbinger amongst them. This is what they call one who can see the future. Through some uncanny means, Lord Fitzroy has indeed predicted with great accuracy where we will attack next. Is this gift supernatural? I think not. I think his immense powers of concentration allow him to tap into the minds of others. And he does not panic in battle as most men do. You see, the battlefield is a scene of constant chaos. The winner will be the one who can best control that chaos, both his own and the enemy’s.
