by Jasmine Walt
Even so, Haralis didn’t fill me with the same sense of home that Solantha did. The city felt more like a coastal vacation spot and less like a cultural hub, and though Haralis Palace was impressive with its sparkling stone exterior and towering turrets, it didn’t hold a candle to Solantha Palace. There were no close friends here, like Iannis and Sunaya, no motherly cook and helpful librarian, no pesky ether parrot…
Better to stop comparing, I told myself as a pang of homesickness hit me in the stomach. You’re never going back there, so there is no point in torturing yourself with memories.
I found a coffee shop just across the street from the palace and ordered coffee and a pastry, which I enjoyed at a window seat right by the door. From my vantage point, I could easily watch the entrance of the palace and see who was coming and going.
I sat there for nearly an hour and had refilled my coffee twice before anything interesting happened—plenty of people came and went, but they were unimportant, no one I recognized. But just as I was getting sick of the brew, a dark, official-looking steamcar came around from the palace’s garage entrance, and I spotted Gelisia sitting in the backseat.
Just who I was looking for.
I hurriedly slapped a coin on the tablecloth, then rushed out to the line of steamcabs waiting at the corner and flagged one down. I regretted my decision almost immediately—a mere block away, we hit a snarl of traffic so dense I would have been better off following on foot. It seemed like all of Haralis was returning home from work at the same time.
A bicycle would be very handy right now, I thought, but there was nothing for it. Sunaya would simply hop on her steambike to tail her suspect, but I was not comfortable riding them. Besides, hardly anyone seemed to use them around here. A steambike would stick out like a sore thumb.
A good twenty minutes later, Gelisia’s car finally turned off the main roads and into a wealthy residential neighborhood. I ordered the cab driver to turn down the same street, and we followed Gelisia at a discreet distance. Her driver pulled up to the curb in front of a large mansion, and I watched from a block away as Gelisia sashayed up the steps and rang the doorbell, leaving the car at the curb to wait for her.
I paid for the ride, then got out of my cab and raced around the block to a quiet side street at the other side of the mansion. A quick flex of my legs, and I bounded over the six-foot iron fence with ease, landing with barely a whisper in the garden. A shed stood a few feet away from me, and I quickly grabbed a gardener’s hat and a rake. No one but the gardener himself would suspect I was trespassing.
With the rake in hand, I casually strolled to the front of the mansion and busied myself raking nonexistent leaves from the pristine lawn. Though evening was approaching, the days were long enough now that there was still sufficient light by which to garden.
To my amusement, Gelisia was still standing by the door, tapping her foot in impatience. She paid me no notice as the front door opened.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a servant in a neatly pressed maid’s uniform said. “May I help you?”
“Finance Secretary Dorax to see Mr. and Mrs. Cantorin,” Gelisia said, handing the maid a card from a small, silver-engraved box. “It’s an urgent matter.”
The servant invited Gelisia in, and I discreetly moved over to the planter right beneath the front window where the parlor was. To my delight, the window had been propped open, and I could hear perfectly as Gelisia sat down on one of the chairs and the servant promised to bring her tea. Bending my head, I pretended to weed the riotous patches of blossoms while keeping my ears pricked for any sign of conversation.
It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps. “Miss Dorax,” a male voice said. “To what do we owe this visit?”
“I am here regarding your missing niece, Tamina Marton,” Gelisia said. “A young woman has turned up, claiming to be her, and eager to wrest her inheritance back from your family.”
“Can it really be little Tamina?” a female voice—Mrs. Cantorin, I assumed—asked in wonder. There was a rustle of skirts and a creak of wood that told me she and her husband had sat down as well. Pulling myself up the closest tree trunk, I risked a quick peek—sure enough, a middle-aged couple was sitting on a small couch across from Gelisia. The man had dark blond hair, a waspish face, and looked to be reed-thin beneath his robes, whereas his wife was plumper, with honey-brown hair and softer, more open features. None of them were looking in my direction, and I quickly turned my attention to the branches, pretending to prune them.
“That is startling news indeed. We had long given up hope of Tamina being alive,” Mr. Cantorin said briskly. There was a distinct tone of annoyance in his voice, and I felt a flash of anger—to him, Mina was little more than a nuisance. “She had been moody and strange the last few weeks before her disappearance, making up the most awful stories about our son. But even so, her drowning like that was a terrible shock, particularly to my wife. I would hate for that old wound to be reopened by some grasping gold digger.”
“Your son is Vanley Cantorin, correct?” Gelisia had a notepad and a pen in her hand. “Is he in residence?”
I glanced over to see Mrs. Cantorin shift uneasily in her seat. “He has already left for some party, as usual,” she said, and there was the slightest note of censure in her voice. “He will not be back until much later.”
“That is quite all right,” Gelisia said. “I really only need to interview the two of you. You are Tamina’s closest surviving relative and universal heir, Mrs. Cantorin. Tell me more about your niece, so I can determine if this girl is indeed her.”
I hope Vanley is not attending the same party Mina is at, I thought as I busied myself with the branches again. I felt a quick tug of concern, and briefly wondered if I should go to the party in disguise so I could watch over her before I remembered the protection spell I’d put on her.
Mina will be fine, I told myself firmly. Finding out what Gelisia was up to was more important. Besides, Mina could handle herself. She would be with her friends, and she had her magic.
“Mina was a difficult and reserved child, but we tried to make allowances for her bereavement, and I was sincerely grieved at her disappearing like that,” Mrs. Cantorin said, as if she were trying to soothe the harshness of her husband’s words. Her tone rang with sincerity, and I wondered if perhaps she was unaware of what had truly happened to Mina. “If she is indeed alive, we will thank the Creator. If you like, I can give you some photos taken when she stayed here and handwriting samples from her schoolwork. They should be somewhere in the attic.”
“That is hardly necessary, Mrs. Cantorin,” Gelisia demurred. “I would not get your hopes up. I am almost certain that the girl is an imposter. Indeed, I suspect she is merely the puppet of the sinister old mage who travels with her and that this man is coaching her on what to say. Who knows, he may be an international criminal who seeks out large fortunes and systematically swindles the true heirs.”
Despite the outrageousness of her statement, I had to grin at this flattering description. Being dishonest herself, naturally Gelisia would be quick to ascribe nefarious motives to anyone else.
“I see,” Mr. Cantorin said in a clipped voice. “Perhaps we should have expected such an attempt to be made, given the size of Miss Marton’s fortune, but we could not possibly have imagined such a despicable level of subterfuge.”
“Using the tragic fate of our dead niece against us,” Mrs. Cantorin said in a soft, scandalized whisper. “It’s unconscionable!”
“I completely agree,” Gelisia said with false sympathy. I gritted my teeth. She was supposed to be an impartial investigator, yet it appeared she’d already made up her mind and was trying to sway the investigation!
Once a manipulator, always a manipulator.
“I strongly advise you not to meet this girl before the hearing next week,” Gelisia continued. “She and her escort may spout any number of lies to draw you to their side, and older mages like this Mr. ar’Tarnis can be particularly craft
y. I would not be surprised if he had some coercion spell at the ready and is only waiting until he can get you alone.”
“We will order the staff not to admit them if they come calling,” Mr. Cantorin promised as I bristled. Coercion indeed! The only person who was using coercion around here was Gelisia herself. But there was nothing I could do about that right now. We had been planning on paying a visit to the Cantorin family, but it sounded like that would not be possible now.
“An excellent precaution,” Gelisia said smoothly. “Mind you, there is a slight possibility I am wrong and the girl truly is the missing heiress. If her claim is substantiated, I shall order an audit of the accounts to ensure that no monies went missing from her fortune during your stewardship. The past thirteen years’ expenses and taxes will be checked with a fine-tooth comb.”
There was a long silence, and I could practically see Gelisia’s cat-like smile, though I was still busying myself with the landscaping. While a part of me was still seething at her greedy, manipulative tactics, I had to admire the deft way in which she wielded them. I could hardly blame the Cantorin family, or even the Chief Mage of Innarta, for being taken in—even I had been fooled.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Mr. Cantorin finally said. “As you said, the girl is likely an imposter, manipulated and coached by that old mage she is with.” Another pause and then, “While you are here, Secretary, is there by chance any particular charity you support to which we may make a sizeable contribution? We have not quite yet met our quota of charitable deductions for the year.”
“What a generous offer,” Gelisia purred, and I could just imagine the seductive gleam in her eye. “As a matter of fact, I recently set up a charity called the Dorax Fund, which aims to support indigent students in Faricia. We are just getting started and would greatly appreciate any support you can give.”
I lifted my head again to watch as the Cantorins handed over a hundred gold coins, with a promise of five hundred more once the “commotion” was all over.
“Your generosity is greatly appreciated,” Gelisia assured them. “This will all blow over very soon, and you will be able to go back to your lives as if this never happened.”
The Cantorins bid Gelisia goodbye, and I bent my head over the planter again as the front door opened. Gelisia didn’t even look around, and I watched from my perch in the tree as she sauntered down the path with an insufferably smug look on her beautiful face. I wondered what she would think if she knew that her former boss, Polar ar’Tollis, was watching her now in the guise of a gardener, planning to foil her machinations.
That fantasy will never come to fruition, I thought with bitter regret as she got back into the car, nodding to the driver to set off. I would never be able to confront Gelisia as myself, to rub into her face that not only was I alive, but thriving. The knowledge that she had not achieved the coveted position of Chief Mage would have to be enough. Preventing her dastardly scheme against Mina would be my own form of retribution.
“Do you really think this is wise?” Mrs. Cantorin asked, and I pushed all thoughts of Gelisia out of my mind to focus on their conversation. The couple was still in the parlor, within easy hearing. “What if this girl really is our niece? We cannot simply deny her what is rightfully hers.”
“We had better hope she isn’t,” Mr. Cantorin snapped. “If Tamina really is back from the dead, she will ruin us. We have been spending her money this entire time and will never be able to refill her coffers.”
“Have we really spent that much of it?” Mrs. Cantorin asked, her voice faint with shock. “I know we’ve dipped into her funds a time or two, but…”
“A time or two?” Mr. Cantorin laughed harshly. “My dear, our income would never cover all the parties and cruises, the hunting trips and golf outings, all the new outfits you buy—our life of luxury is entirely thanks to Tamina’s fortune. If she were to return, we would be disgraced. Society will shun us forever.”
Shaking my head in disgust, I turned away and headed around the side of the mansion. I’d heard more than enough.
I hope the Cantorins have not spent too much of Mina’s fortune, I thought grimly as I headed back to the hotel. Getting justice was one thing, but Mina deserved to live in comfort after all the hardship she’d been through, and it would be devastating to learn that the fortune we were working so hard to reclaim had already been squandered.
17
Mina
The party was already in full swing when I arrived at the grand-looking townhouse in the middle of the city’s Mages Quarter. Music and light were pouring out of open windows, and the smell of roasted meat and sugary pastries reminded me that I’d skipped dinner. Thanking the cab driver, I pressed a coin into his hand and entered the house with my stomach full of nerves.
At least you look great, I told myself as I handed my coat to the servant just inside the door. The shimmery green cocktail dress fit me like a glove, accentuating my curves, and the matching heels made my calves look fantastic. I’d piled my hair atop my head in loose curls held together with sparkling pins, leaving a few to tumble down the back of my neck and frame the sides of my face. A quick glance in the foyer mirror told me that my makeup was still intact—smoky eyes, jewel-red lips, and the slightest dusting of blush on my cheekbones.
I wish Fenris were here to see me.
I’d gone back to Fenris’s room to show him my outfit before I’d left, but he’d disappeared. He’d left a note on the table letting me know that he’d gone out on an “errand”—for Fenris, that could mean anything from visiting a business connection to perusing the shelves in a dusty bookshop full of old manuscripts. I smiled a little at that—it must be freeing for him to be able to rummage through magical bookshops again, even if he did have to go in the guise of an old man. He was right not to come along to the party—he would have looked completely out of place.
And besides, I reminded myself, there’s no reason you can’t show him the dress when you return to the hotel tonight.
The thought filled me with a rush of warmth that banished my nerves, and just in time, too. “Mina!” Troina exclaimed as she moved through the crowd toward me. She wore a brilliant red dress with a glittering pattern on the side that formed a rose and drew the eye to her curvy hips. “You made it! And just look at that dress,” she gushed, looking me up and down. “You’ll be the talk of the party tonight.”
Indeed, I observed as she hooked her arm through mine, I was getting quite a few looks. Curiosity and interest from the men, and a few jealous looks from the women. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious about showing so much skin. I’d never worn such a revealing dress in my life—there had been no occasion to do so growing up, and in veterinary school and Abbsville there were no parties that required something as fancy as a cocktail dress.
I could just imagine the faces of the book club ladies if they saw me in this. A few of the older ones would keel over in shock at the sight.
Doing my best to ignore the stares, I allowed Troina to drag me over to her group of friends, who were gathered around the couches in a salon just off to the side of the entrance. This was a party, rather than a formal ball, and there wasn’t a single mage here in robes, or much over thirty years old. Troina’s fiancé and their friend Baron greeted me enthusiastically, and I was introduced to ten other people whose names flitted out of my head as quickly as they’d gone in.
“Is it true, then, that you’ve been living amongst humans for the past ten years?” a brunette with dramatic blue eye shadow exclaimed after I’d been handed a drink. “My, how terrible that must have been! However could you bear it?”
“It was hard, at first,” I said, doing my best to suppress the instinctive protest that came to my lips at her obvious horror. “But I wouldn’t say it was terrible by any means. Humans aren’t barbarians.”
“Of course not,” the man sitting next to her said smoothly. “Brialtha only meant that having to survive on your own, without any magic, would be very trying
.”
“Mina has always been strong-willed and intelligent,” Troina declared from her seat next to me. Smiling, she put an arm around my shoulder and hugged me. “I should have known better than to think you’d really died. I’m so happy you’re here.”
Pleasure filled me at Troina’s sincerity. “I’m very glad to be back,” I agreed, relaxing a little. While these young mages were strangers, they were not yet hardened to the point of coldness and rigidity, like most older mages eventually became. I felt much more at ease around them than I had at Haralis Palace.
“There are rumors going around that you might not really be Tamina Marton,” a tall blonde said, the barest hint of a sneer in her voice.
“That’s ridiculous,” Troina snapped. “I went to school with Mina and have known her nearly all her life—anybody who knew her would recognize her in an instant.”
“Yes,” the blonde said silkily, “but it is possible to use magic to change one’s appearance in a permanent fashion.”
“Those spells are illegal,” Maxin, Troina’s fiancé, pointed out. “At least in the Federation.” While mages embellished and changed their appearance at will, permanently impersonating another mage was forbidden. It made fraud all too easy.
The blonde shrugged. “If I saw a chance at gaining the Marton fortune, I might not hesitate to bend a rule or two.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but the blonde turned and disappeared into the crowd. “Don’t listen to her,” Troina said, squeezing my hand. “Darina has always been a jealous twat. She’s just upset because she’s no longer the prettiest blonde at the party.”
That startled a laugh out of me. “I thought you were the prettiest blonde at the party,” I teased.
“Yes, and what a shame it is that both of you are sitting on the couch like wallflowers,” Maxin said, taking Troina’s hand. He tugged her into the next room, which had been fashioned into a dance floor. Before I knew it, another man was asking me to dance. Restless energy from that near confrontation still buzzed in my veins, and I accepted, eager to burn some of it off.
