You Are Mine

by Janeal Falor

  I grin at her. “I don't think he'd hex us mute because of it.”

  She grins back.

  A cool breeze rushes past as I open the door and enter. “That was odd.”

  “What was?”

  “Didn't you feel that cold air?”

  “No.”

  “Huh. Must have been a breeze or something.” The room is the same shape and size as the one I use. The only difference is a desk shoved in by the window and a razor, soap, and towel scattered across the vanity. And it smells faintly of citrus, just like he does. “Look at this. His furniture is the same as mine.”

  She runs her hand across the back of a chair. “We'll need a few chairs. He has a desk in here which I wasn't suspecting. Perhaps we should get two for him. One for the study and one for in here. Two beds as well, I should think. You'll need the extra space when you're wed.”

  My cheeks heat. I want to be anywhere but here. “I suppose.” I scramble for the door. “We should go through the house for some furniture.”

  We exit, making sure to leave everything as we found it. Starting from Chancellor Zade's side of the house, we work our way through the rooms. The top floor holds nothing useful for Zade, but plenty of space for guests during the ball. If I find any guests I'd rather be near, I'll put them here. Father will be on the ground floor.

  On the next floor, we stop when we find a grand suite. An entry with a few chairs and a sofa leads to two private chambers off to the sides, each with their own receiving rooms, wash rooms, water closets, bath-rooms, and bedrooms connected by a door. I've never seen a personal bath-room before.

  The rooms are richly dressed with colors, fabrics, and paintings. When we come to a chamber containing dresses, face paint, and a canopy bed, a thin layer of dust covers everything.

  “This must have been Chancellor Jacob's wife's.” Though it's bigger than I expected the woman's side to be. I remember the picture I saw of her. “Do you know what her name was?”

  “I don't.” She runs her fingers across a book shelf, three rows deep of books, and there are still more on the floor. “Maybe Chancellor Jacob kept some of his books in her room? It's rather strange though.”

  “No stranger than Chancellor Zade.”

  “That's true.” She bounces on her toes and moves to the vanity. “She has lots of face paint. More than even mother. I didn't know any woman could beat her with that.”

  “She didn't have much on in the painting I saw of her downstairs.”

  The Woman's Canon lies on the bed stand. Next to it is an unlabeled book and a strange looking pen. No ink pot around. Why would a woman have a pen in her room? We can't use them. But what would it be like if I could?

  I bite my lip and stare at the pen a moment before picking it up. It's light between my fingers. It's metal feels cool even through my gloves. I glance at the unmarked book. My pulse increases. I've not ventured into the book room again, but I've read the book I stole until I've memorized it. I'd really like another.

  With my free hand, I grab the new book. Is it some sort of extension to the Woman's Canon? I've never heard of one. But what else would she be permitted to keep in her room? She did have a pen here as well so perhaps it's something different. I want it to be something different. With a peek to make sure Cynthia isn't watching, I flip the cover open.

  To my dearest Julia,

  I give you this gift with the hopes it will help heal your heartache. No matter what they say, you are the perfect woman for me.

  Faithfully Yours,

  Jacob

  Not related to the Woman's Canon. My fingers shake as I trace the words and read it again. It stirs something within me. Something deep and abiding. I turn the page. Inside it's lined and filled with a flowing script. Did she write this herself? I know how to read, but I've never written anything. I sit on the bed as I read of her heartache over not having children and her love for her husband.

  “What's that?”

  I snap the book closed and throw it on the table. How could I be so careless? “The usual.”

  “I thought you hated reading the Woman's Canon.” Cynthia heads for the door. I sigh, grateful she didn't realize it was something different. “There's nothing here that will work.”

  It takes me a moment to remember what she's speaking of. I don't feel like searching the house more, instead I want to read more of Julia's words. When Cynthia's out of view, I grab the book and hide it in my blouse, thankful I'm wearing a loose one today.

  I glance down. A little squarish around my stomach, but hopefully she won't notice. I think of a way to get this hidden in my room and follow her out.

  “Maybe we should go order things,” I say. “Even if we find something large enough, he really could use more than that.”

  “I'm sure if we keep looking, we'll find something here though.”

  “What if we ordered the things and looked when we returned? That way, the furniture would be on its way sooner, but if there's something, he'd be able to use it in the meantime.”

  “Can we take the carriage into town today?”

  “You're asking if we can go without a chaperon?”

  She bites her lower lip. “Only if Bethany doesn't want to come. She said she had some things she wanted to talk over with Waverly today, so I suspect it won't be a problem.”

  The fact that she doesn't want to take Bethany is a relief. I can't forget she's a spy. I should be better around Cynthia, but she knows I've been out on my own. With all the time she's spent with Zade, I doubt she really believes he's suddenly trying to be harder on me anyway. “I suppose it'd be fine, as long as we don't go anywhere besides the wood worker.”

  “Let's go then. We can't have the Master of the house uncomfortable.”

  “You really want to go out of the house without a warlock to chaperon?”

  “Well, Zade isn't here and it needs done. Nothing's happened to you yet.”

  “Your first unchaperoned outing. I'll hold this memory forever.”

  I laugh. She goes on ahead to call for a carriage while I hide Julia's journal in my room to peruse later. Hopefully, Waverly won't find it while she's cleaning.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Several days later, Zade corners me on my way out from sneaking a snack in the kitchen. Thankfully Phyllis wasn't there, but she may have been a better choice than him. His face is stern, not a hint of lightness in his eyes. Did he find out we were in his room? Is he angry we went to town and ordered things without him?

  “Today, you're going to use a gun.”

  Not problems with the furniture then. I'm not sure this is any better though. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

  “You'll learn to use a revolver.”

  The air is sucked from me. He's never forced me to do anything. I hate the change so much, I'm willing to risk contradicting him. Once I've gotten a hold of myself, I say, “I don't care what the law says, women don't touch them.”

  “Most don't live with a man who has a price on his head.”

  He has a good point, but is such a drastic action needed? He leans against the wall next to me. Our arms brush. A tingle rushes through me.

  “How seriously are they trying to harm you?”

  “The intruder in your room was the first attempt. I finally caught up with him. Seems someone mixed up our rooms. He's taken care of now.”

  Taken care of? I shiver. “First attempt? Don't evade me this time, how many more have there been?”

  “Enough that you need to protect yourself.”

  Still evading, but it sounds bad. I clench my jaw. I don't want anything to happen to him. I want to do this, but it's hard to ask. “Will more kissing help?”

  He pinks and shrugs.

  My chest stings at the rejection. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Learn to shoot.”

  I bite my lip. “What about Cynthia and Bethany?”

  “I'd like to teach them, but with your Father still their owner, I have to be careful. T
hey've got extra wards on them.”

  “Can't you do that for me?”

  “I'm doing what I can, but I can't do everything. You shouldn't worry about them. You're around me more than they are. Plus, you're the one engaged to me, not them.”

  “I don't think it's a good idea.”

  “You need some means of protecting yourself, though I pray you never have to use it. Please do this for me.”

  I don't want to touch a gun, let alone use it. But people rarely use the word please, and never a warlock. Plus, there was the moment when we met Councilman Barkley that I wished I had a gun. “When do we start?”

  He slouches against the wall a moment, before coming to his feet. “Right now. Follow me.”

  We leave the house, but instead of going to the gardens, we go to the side, trailing along until we come to a field. My muscles tense more the closer we get. One side has stacks of hay set up. He leads me across from the hay about two hundred paces away.

  “This is your revolver. When we're not using it, keep it strapped to your leg where you can reach it through the pocket Katherine made for you.” He pulls out a black gun and lets it rest in the palm of his hand. The sun glows on it, making its deadliness shine.

  I swallow.

  “Never, ever point this at something you're not willing to destroy.”

  “This really isn't a good idea.”

  He grabs my hand and presses the gun into it, wrapping his own hand around it. “You can do this.”

  The metal is cold against my skin. He takes his hand off mine and points to the long end of the gun. “This is the barrel. This is the hammer.” He flips a lever back. “Pull it back half way to open the loading gate.” He pushes it back up. “You try it.”

  My fingers quiver as I pull it back. “Now what?”

  He spins the middle part of it. “This is the chamber that holds the bullets. How many are there?”

  I reach up to spin it myself and count. “Six.”

  “Right. Always keep track of how many you've shot.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some small brass items. “These are bullets. You slip them in the chamber with the point side down.” After showing me once, he holds them out. “Give it a try.”

  I don't want to touch those things. With shaking fingers, I pick one up and point it toward the chamber. Instead of going in, it falls to the ground. “Sorry.”

  “Don't worry about it.” He fishes it out of the grass and smiles at me. “See, no harm done.”

  Some of my nervousness dissipates. I grab another bullet and try again. It slips in without a problem. After I get the other four loaded, he says. “If you're not going to use it right away, put the hammer up. If you're going to shoot it, pull it all the way back.”

  He demonstrates then has me try. The gun is heavy. I pull the hammer back.

  “Good.” His hand runs along my arm straightening it and sending tingles through my body. “Now aim at one of those haystacks and pull the trigger. When you get good enough, I'll put up a bull's eye for you.”

  “Are you sure I should be doing this?”

  “There's no one else around. You won't hurt anyone, we're just practicing.”

  I bite my lip, lift the gun, and shoot. My arms jerk back and the noise hurts my ears. I yelp. The odor of smoke fills my nose, but it's unlike anything I've ever smelled before.

  Zade laughs. “Try again. This time, look at your target. I'll spell your gun so it's easier to see where it goes.”

  I scowl. The stacks seem so far away. He casts a tan spell that hovers over the barrel of the gun. I look at the middle of the hay stack and try to shoot.

  “It's not working.”

  “You have to pull the hammer back.”

  “Of course.” I feel foolish.

  After pulling the hammer back, I look at the hay stack again and pull the trigger. The sound is just as loud, but doesn't startle me as much. Zade's spell flies from the gun, and flows through the air following the bullet, lowering until it hits the ground. It's only half way to the hay stack.

  “Better.”

  “That was better?” I groan.

  “Don't worry about it, progress is good,” he says. “How many bullets do you have left?”

  “Um...four?”

  “Good. Always keep it in your mind so you can remember without stopping to think. Now, try again.”

  I grip the gun tighter in my hands, aim, pull the hammer back, and fire. This time the spell show's it going farther, but to the right.

  “I can't aim this thing.”

  “Sure you can, it's just nerves. Let me help you.”

  He steps behind me, and wraps his arms around me until his hands are over mine. My skin warms. He smells of the earth and citrus. His breath tickles my ear.

  “The gun isn't the enemy here. You've no reason to fear it if you treat it properly. Is it comfortable in your hands?”

  Right now, none of me is comfortable, primarily where he's touching my back and arms. Compared to that, the gun is like a brush in my hand. I know better what to do with the gun than with him. “It's fine.”

  “Are you sure? You're shaking.”

  My breathing quickens. “There's not much I can do about it.”

  “True. Go ahead and aim again.”

  I point the gun at the hay stack. He lifts my arms a little higher. “Take a breath and hold it.”

  When I do, his scent mixed with the smell of the gun-smoke fills me.

  “Pull the hammer back and fire.”

  It's easier to pull the hammer back. I shoot. The spell shows the bullet plummets just short of the hay stack.

  Zade moves away from me, leaving me cold even though the day's warm. “Good job. You're getting better.”

  We practice for a while, though he doesn't put his arms around me again. I wish he would, but it's easier to concentrate without them. I've managed to hit the stack a few times when he says we're done for the day.

  He hands me a box of bullets. “Keep these somewhere safe.”

  I nod.

  “You can come out and practice whenever you want. At least once a day. I'll help you when I can. Waverly can give you some tips, too. She's great with a gun.”

  Of course she is. “I'll keep that in mind.”

  “I'm going to stay out and practice. See you at dinner.”

  “Until then.”

  I head back for the house, the gun and box of bullets clunky in my hands. Before I turn the corner, I glance back at him. He casts a spell that looks like a bird and shoots at it. The bird wavers and falls apart. He must have hit it. Why does he bother shooting when he can just cast a spell?

  I'm not sure, but I can still feel his arms around me. Comforting. Guiding. The metallic smell of my hands stays with me all day, reminding me of him and the threats lingering over him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The next week, I'm sitting in the garden reading Julia's journal. It's much easier than shooting like I've been practicing. It's fascinating to learn about her life. She's unlike any woman I've ever known before. The pain she writes about is as real as I've felt or seen my sisters and mother go through. But instead of her husband being the cause, she speaks of how he helps her through the pain. Then she moves on with her life. She sounds more like a man.

  The bench creaks beside me. Zade. My heart quivers. I've been caught. I close the book as quietly as I can, hoping he doesn't notice it's not the Woman's Canon. I give him a small smile. What will happen if he catches me?

  “Good book?” He asks.

  I cling to it. “Fine.”

  “Did you find it in the library?”

  The unfamiliar word breaks through a part of my fear. “What's a library?”

  “The room with all the books.” His eyebrows bounce a couple times, lips tugging upward. “The room I found you hiding in shortly after coming here.”

  My hand flies to my mouth. “You saw me?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, but you didn't look like you wanted me t
o, so I didn't say anything.”

  I reach my other hand to cover my whole face. “I can't believe you saw me. I thought I got away with it.”

  “Got away with what?”

  Being from another country, he might not know the rules, so maybe I shouldn't tell him. Except he did say he knew the laws well enough to keep from getting in trouble. Trouble that would lead to his death. He has to already know about it. Besides, maybe this is a good way to figure out how he'll react if he figures out what I have. “Being caught with a book besides the Woman's Canon.”

  “Woman's Canon should be burned.”

  I take my hands off my face. His eyes are wide, face pale. He looks...Is he worried about having said that out loud? Does he really feel that way?

  He scans the garden. No one is around, yet he casts the salmon-colored spell around us, keeping our words safe. “Please keep it a secret. I shouldn't have even told you. But since it slipped out, I'm hoping I can trust you with it.”

  It's been long enough that I feel like I know him. Know when he's telling the truth and when he's keeping things to himself. This feels like truth. If the council found out, the threats on his life would quickly multiply. Why would he want to burn the book that tells women how to act? I know why I do, but why would he?

  “I suppose I could keep it secret.”

  “Thank you.” He points at the book in my hand. “Is that one I'll need to burn or something else?”

  With what he revealed, maybe I can reveal a bit of truth, as well. “It's different. It's writings by the woman who used to live here.”

  “Julia.”

  “How did you know her name?”

  “I made it a point to know.”

  None of this seems upset him. In fact, he seems interested. Could he really be fine with me reading? I say, “Then perhaps you will know if her journal entries are based on fact or fanciful ideas.”

  “Since I haven't read it myself, I don't really know. From what I've gathered, she wasn't the fanciful sort. I could read it through if you'd like and give you my opinion.”