by Jeff Wheeler
The Dryad had stolen her memories of the vision, of what she had chosen to do, for the poisoner school would surely have killed her if they’d known she intended to destroy it.
Memories. More memories. The ground felt like it was spinning, and her shoulders sagged as she struggled to stay conscious. Memories came of her childhood. She saw the deed Mr. Pratt had signed, giving her up, saw someone hand an infant to the tall, handsome man in a dragoon jacket. But still the memories went back further, before it was even possible for her to remember.
She remembered her birth in this very grove.
The labor had started in Brythonica. Her father was there—the kishion. A woman who wasn’t Lady Corinne—yet was—lay beneath the oak tree, groaning. The woman screamed in agony as the labor continued. Cettie saw it all, saw the blood and the taut nerves, the clenched hands, the sweat. And as Cettie came into the world, a silver bowl full of water was poured on the plinth. There was thunder, hail, and a vortex opened between the worlds.
The Dryads had seen it happen. They were both silent witnesses to Cettie’s birth.
A child born between two worlds. It had never happened before.
A child who was heir to both.
Cettie watched her father lift the babe, a wild, triumphant look in his eyes. He pressed his lips against her bloodied scalp.
A vessel. A vessel to give Ereshkigal for her rebirth. One who could cross from one world to the other without permission, without covenants.
A destroyer of worlds.
And yet . . . and yet . . .
One crucial meeting had changed her life’s trajectory. Lord Fitzroy had put a stop to the chain of events that would have ruined her life and her soul. He had guided her away from an awful destiny prepared in advance by her parents. Had she been brought to the poisoner school as a young girl, raised to know nothing but cruelty and want, they would have won her loyalty.
Cettie hunched down, doubled over, pressing her cheek against the carpet of decayed leaves, and wept in gratitude for what Lord Fitzroy—her true father—had done. He hadn’t known. But he’d listened to the tiny prick of conscience that night in the Fells, when she’d asked him to adopt her. He had unwittingly chosen a different fate for her.
Cettie walked up the hill toward the abbey, her arms folded, her eyes finally dry. She remembered how foggy her mind had felt the last time she made this journey, years before. The visions had started soon afterward, catching her completely by surprise. She hadn’t remembered accepting the Gift of Seering. She hadn’t remembered she’d willingly become a harbinger.
Today, when she’d awoken with her memories, Maderos and Owen had been gone. Without any instructions, she was left to follow her heart, and her heart told her to seek out the Aldermaston of Muirwood. She had no idea what would happen next, but she followed the impression and had started on her way.
As she neared the outer borders of the abbey, the Leerings warned her not to approach. The brand on her shoulder felt as if it had been burned into her skin anew. Cettie unwove the Leerings’ protections with her mind, not dispelling them, just making a little path for her to cross, as her father the kishion had done years before with his kystrel. After crossing, she slid the protections back into place.
She felt a smile rise on her mouth as she took in her familiar surroundings. As she advanced, she saw the cider orchard, the pond. Soon she could hear the laughter of the students enjoying a pleasant afternoon. Then there were the archery butts, one of the places she’d liked to go to think. The abbey could be seen above the trees, beyond it all, and Cettie felt a strong pull from it. As if the stones welcomed her home.
When she reached the common lawn, some of the students looked at her in confusion. She was an adult now, no longer as young as she’d been. No longer one of them. To Cettie’s eyes, the students were like unmolded clay. And so had she been.
She reached the Aldermaston’s manor and went inside. No one spoke to her or questioned her. The poisoner’s bag thumped against her back. What was she to do with it now?
After turning the corner, she approached the Aldermaston’s study. That was usually where he was at this time of day. She paused at the threshold, her hand resting on the cool metal handle. Whatever was going to happen would happen. If the Aldermaston rejected her, if he turned her in to the Ministry of Law, so be it. She twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
Thomas Abraham sat at his desk, poring over an ancient tome, his glasses pinched at the end of his nose, his wrinkled brow showing his intense focus.
She quietly shut the door behind her.
He looked up from the tome and squinted, his eyes not strong enough to identify her without the glasses. He pushed them back up to the bridge of his nose, and she saw his cheeks go pale and slack, his eyes widen suddenly with fear.
“Have you come to kill me, Cettie?” he whispered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ABDUCTED
Cettie’s heart panged with regret that the Aldermaston’s first instinct was one of survival. She hastened to reassure him.
“No, Aldermaston,” she said, her throat tightening. “I’ve come to make amends. To suffer whatever consequences may be suitable. I was abducted and taken to the world of Kingfountain against my will. I was deceived.” She sighed. “But I willingly accepted a hetaera’s brand, though I regret it to my shame. I am to be the Mysteries’ tool to help Sera. Aldermaston, she has been abducted from Lockhaven. I fear her maid has also been replaced with a poisoner. There are schemes at work right now that would overthrow the empire. I wish to help. And so I’ve come to you first, so you may judge my intentions.”
His look had changed and shifted as she related her tale. He seemed surprised, and she had no doubt he was worried for Sera, but he also looked . . . relieved. A sheen of sweat had formed on his brow, and he withdrew a handkerchief from his vest pocket to mop it. Then, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket, he rose and walked around the table that separated them.
Cettie wondered at the action, until he put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “My dear lost one, you have returned? Truly?”
Tears began to spill from her eyes. She hung her head, racked with guilt, and nodded, only to be pulled into a bearlike embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, but his affectionate embrace nearly smothered the words.
“My dear, dear Cettie,” he said, sniffling himself. He pulled away, looking confused. “How did you get here? By what means did you cross the worlds?”
“There’s that old oak tree,” Cettie explained. “The tall, crooked one, outside the boundaries.”
“The sentinel oak,” the Aldermaston said, nodding in understanding.
“It’s a gateway.” Cettie’s memories of it were so sharp, so piercingly clear. The details of her life had all bloomed in her mind. “There is another place, a similar place also with an oak tree, in a grove in the other world. A portal opened and brought me here. I met a man named Maderos.” She breathed out slowly, trying not to slur her words. “I had met him before, only I’d forgotten—”
“Maderos, the wayfarer?” the Aldermaston said in surprise and recognition.
“You know of him?”
“Yes! Well, there have been records left of him from previous Aldermastons. He is unlike other men. He is a special gift from the Knowing who has aided our world for centuries . . . perhaps longer.”
“Is he mortal?”
The Aldermaston shook his head. “No, not in the way you and I are. He’s a Dryden, a being who exists in the mortal world and yet has progressed beyond it. There is no easy way to explain them, other than they are emissaries of the Knowing. They are charged with assignments, delegated with authority, and they intercede in the mortal world at pivotal moments. There are records of his past visits. When he appears, it is always a portent of great danger.”
“Yes, it must be,” Cettie agreed. “I never told you, Aldermaston, but after I took the Test, the Mysteries led
me outside the grounds of the abbey to banish a Myriad One that had tormented me all my life. My memory of that moment was taken away, but I recall it clearly now. It was Maderos who gave me the Gift that allowed me to see the future.”
“The Gift of Seering,” the Aldermaston said, nodding vigorously. “No one has had it in over a generation.”
“I have it,” Cettie said. “The last vision I saw was of Lord Fitzroy’s death. I . . . I could not bear the thought of losing him, and wished to prevent it. I was deceived by Lady Corinne. She is my mother, Aldermaston. My birth mother. But Lady Maren is still my true mother, and Lord Fitzroy my true father. I . . . I feel so terrible about what I’ve done. If you could tell her that I’ve returned. That I am sorry. If she never wishes to see my face again, I will—”
The Aldermaston shook his head, confusing her. “I cannot do that, Cettie. You don’t understand. Stephen Fitzroy has been searching for you since your capture. He’s used the family’s shipping interests to conduct searches in both worlds.”
Cettie stared at him in disbelief.
“It’s true, my dear. I will tell them you have returned, and I assure you, they will embrace you as I did. Stephen has come to Muirwood many times, along with Caulton Forshee, to ask for my advice on where next to search for you.”
Cettie’s eyes widened. “I came across Caulton days ago, in Genevar.”
The Aldermaston held her gaze. “He was there looking for you.”
Her knees buckled at the news. “I’m afraid, Aldermaston. I’m not who I was. Nor am I what they made me. I’m a poisoner . . . a hetaera . . . a criminal of the empire, but I don’t wish to be any of those things.”
He hooked his hand around her neck. “You are much more than that, child. I must send word to the Fitzroys and my contacts in the ministry at once. If the empress has been abducted, as you said, then we’ve reached a critical hour.”
“She has been taken, Aldermaston,” Cettie said. “But I believe I know where to find her.” If Will was in league with her mother, then Gimmerton Sough would be the first place to start looking for the missing empress.
Cettie walked the grounds of the abbey, reminiscing about the years she’d spent there as a student. She walked by the cottage she and Sera had shared in Vicar’s Close. The plants had been changed in the garden, but the cracks in the plaster and loose shingles on the roof were all too familiar. She saw her old teacher, Mrs. Romrell, who had inspired her in the study of mathematics. Mrs. Romrell’s warm, affectionate greeting indicated she either didn’t know about Cettie’s misfortunes or did not judge her for them.
Cettie walked around the abbey several times, reveling in how different it was from the poisoner school in Genevar. The Leerings on the walls protected the students but didn’t trap them inside. The abbey wasn’t a prison. While the poisoner school was well appointed and pleasing to the eye, it was a cold place. It lacked the aura of safety, of peace, of goodness that permeated the air she now breathed. Each time she circled the grounds, the abbey felt more welcoming, and she felt a greater sense of belonging.
As the sun began to set, she saw a tempest appear in the distance, skimming the tops of the trees. She recognized it as the one she’d flown so many times on her errands to Lockhaven. The Fitzroys. Her heart lurched as it drew closer, racing toward the abbey at full speed. Her temples began to throb, and nerves made her queasy with apprehension.
She walked swiftly across the lawn toward the landing yard, where she watched the tempest come to rest. Who would be in that tempest? Stephen? Lady Maren? They’d come swiftly upon getting the news, that much was clear.
As she neared the underbelly of the tempest, she caught sight of movement on the deck just before the rope ladder tumbled down. Cettie froze as she watched the rope sway and then settle. She clutched her hands together, biting her lip, watching for the boots to appear, and they did. Stephen. It was Stephen who hurried down the rope ladder. When he reached the grass, he whirled and saw her.
It startled her how much he looked like Father.
A broad smile lit up his face at the sight of her. He charged across the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her, heaving her off her feet, as he twirled her around before setting her down.
“It’s you! By the Mysteries, I know it is!” he said with pure delight.
“Stephen,” she murmured, her throat seizing so quickly the name choked off.
He put his hand on her face, as if reassuring himself she was really there, then kissed her other cheek. He started laughing, though the laughter hitched with tears. They embraced, both of them crying.
“You came back,” he whispered, squeezing her harder. “How? How?” He pulled back, his broad grin making her heart melt. She had never hoped to see Stephen greet her with such genuine joy and affection. “Caulton sent word . . . that you saved his life. You were in Genevar only days ago. How did . . . well, it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You are back. Thank the Mysteries. I thank them with all my heart. We must return to Fog Willows at once. Mother needs to see you herself. She was too afraid . . . afraid it would be a trick, a deception. She couldn’t bear to lose you again.”
“I’m sorry, Stephen. I can’t tell you how I regret—”
He held up his hand and shook his head curtly. “No, I beg you. Whatever happened, you will say it when you are ready. We have bent all our efforts to try and find you, Cettie. My lost sister. When Mr. Sloan told me what you’d done . . . how you’d paid off my debts. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am to you. You saved Fog Willows, Cettie. With Anna so ill at the time, our family would have been ruined if I’d been under a deed. The estate would have been seized by someone else or plummeted to the ground. Mother told me all about Lady Corinne and her lies. You’re not the only person she’s deceived, but now her tricks have been revealed to all. You saved us, Cettie. I want to hear nothing of regret or guilt.”
Cettie cringed at his words. “But I am guilty, Stephen.”
“Whatever it takes,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers, “we will defend you. If we must hire a fleet of advocates, so be it. You are home. Corinne may have taken the last year of your life away, but she did not rip you out of our hearts. You will always be my sister, every bit as much as Anna and Phinia. Do I make myself clear, Cettie Saeed? You’re a Fitzroy. You’re one of us. I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
Cettie wept again, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace soothe the hurts and the anguish she still carried with her.
After the embrace, she looked at his face. “You’ve truly been searching for me?”
“With all the intensity of a man possessed by the fiercest determination,” he said. “I’ve employed Caulton and Aunt Juliana to help me, and others too. One of my agents learned that a zephyr was seen flying over Genevar. It was not known where it landed, and anyone who asked too many questions was silenced. But that gave me another clue of where to look. Genevar, it seems, has been benefitting enormously from this war. Caulton said that he saw you in your attack at the warehouse.” He met and held her gaze. “He felt your power and warned me that you might be a hetaera. I didn’t pledge to help you lightly, Cettie. Whatever has happened to you, we will face it as a family.” Her throat was thick again, her heart aching with relief and gratitude. “When the Aldermaston’s message arrived, with his assurance that you were hale, I came immediately.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Ah, here he is.”
Cettie turned, her heart still brimming with appreciation, and saw the Aldermaston approaching them.
“Welcome, Lord Fitzroy,” the Aldermaston said.
Stephen smiled wistfully. “That title will always belong to my father. Stephen will do well enough, Aldermaston.” He reached out and they firmly shook hands. “Thank you for returning her to us.”
The Aldermaston put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I come bearing news. I received word from Lockhaven that the empress disappeared several days ago. P
rime Minister Durrant has kept it a closely guarded secret. Not even all of the privy council knows. Her maid, Becka Monstrum, was apprehended. They found an invisible ring on her finger, just as you said they would. Her form changed immediately as the disguise was stripped away. She bore the lily mark on her shoulder. As soon as she was revealed, the young woman attacked the soldiers sent to arrest her. It took six men to subdue her and four young mastons from the Ministry of Thought to overpower her and her kystrel. One of them ripped it from the chain around her neck. She’s been incarcerated in Lockhaven and is now being interrogated by the Ministry of War.”
Stephen grinned at Cettie.
“Well done, Sister.”
“Did they send officers to Gimmerton Sough?” Cettie asked. She couldn’t help the pang of worry she felt for Shantelle. What would happen to her? The young girl had made bad decisions, just as she herself had, but there was more to her than her worst choices. “I believe Sera was taken there.”
“Yes, officers were dispatched as soon as your warning about her maid was verified.”
“Gimmerton Sough?” Stephen asked.
“Yes,” Cettie said. “Rand is part of this cabal. In fact, I know that Rand is an imposter. He’s really Will Russell. I think Rand’s sister may also be involved. If they’re not careful, Sera could be . . . she could be killed.”
The Aldermaston shook his head. “No, they need her alive. We believe their goal is to liberate Ereshkigal. Only Sera can.”
Cettie gave him a fierce look. “That is their goal. I was to be the vessel. They planned to send me to Lockhaven to impersonate Sera. The maid was part of the trick.”
“Then we don’t have any time to lose,” Stephen said. He hooked his arm around Cettie’s. “We fly to Gimmerton Sough.”
The Aldermaston shook his head no. “The Ministry of War is sending zephyrs to come fetch her. Mr. Durrant wishes for her to be brought to Lockhaven at once.”
