Ruins of bone, p.13
Ruins of Bone, page 13
How much power had been woven into its swirled form?
Jade eyed it, her pupils narrowing to slits. And I shrank back. “You are very generous, but it’s far too fine a gift. I’m afraid I can’t accept.”
“No? Need I remind you of the dangers of refusal?”
My pulse surged in my ears like the wind among rushes. “I—”
He advanced. “Allow me to put it on.”
Jade yowled and sprang upon the mantel overhead. With deliberate precision, she wove between two tall candlesticks and then knocked off a large porcelain vase full of roses. The vase shattered on the floor, while the water spattered both Lord West and me. The ruckus should have brought servants rushing into the room to intervene; instead, a fog-like haze obscured the doorway—blocking sound perhaps? Or glamouring the room so it appeared all was well?
I glanced up at Lord West. “Perhaps you might return another time? I’d like to see to Jade. The glass may have injured her.”
“Our business remains unfinished.” His voice emerged as smooth and cold as a mountain brook, and his gaze darkened as he regarded Jade. “I’ve no intention of departing until it’s complete.” He closed the distance between us, his towering form too close for comfort.
Jade must have agreed, for her hackles rose. With trembling hands, I snatched her up, willing her to remain still. I could not endure it if Lord West struck her as he had Asrina, and this time, if he did, we wouldn’t have Wyncourt to shield us.
“I told you what your fate would be if you did not cooperate. For now, the choice remains with you. Accept this gift as a token of our courtship—or I will call on the Vigil before I leave town.”
I didn’t doubt he’d follow through with the threat. I raised my head to meet his gaze. “One could hardly call an unwanted object a gift. Nevertheless, I accept.”
He lifted my arm, his fingers brushing the skin at my wrist. “Not a trace remains. It would seem you have remarkable fortitude.”
Then I’d been right—his working was a test, and he’d sought to see if the injury he inflicted would linger.
“One with your resilience bears closer watching.” He slipped the bracelet on. When he latched the clasp, biting cold numbed my skin. “I wouldn’t want you leaving Avons while I’m away. Now I shall know just where to find you.”
Then, like a winter tempest, he swept out the door, leaving me alone with the ache in my arm creeping toward my heart.
After his departure, I fumbled with the bracelet, seeking the clasp, but it had vanished. The band wove seamless around my skin, a jeweled shackle impossible to remove, one that burned as if my body fought against it.
Perhaps if I could work the salve beneath it, the discomfort would ease. I went to the compounding room and generously slathered some on, and the salve appeared to sink into the surface of the bracelet, its rich golden hue warming the cold light cast by the white gold. The burning sensation subsided to a dull ache confined at my wrist.
I sank into the chair. Though clearly whatever workings he’d placed on it remained active, I welcomed any relief. Still, what would come of it?
If Aunt Caris saw the bracelet, she’d be scandalized. It was far too fine a gift for a gentleman who’d only just expressed his interest—too fine even for a couple openly courting. It was better suited to a wedding present.
Perhaps Lord West had known it and appreciated the symbolism. Yet I refused to consider that he’d succeed in forcing me into marriage. I rubbed my temples.
Had Ibbie felt like this once? Not when she’d fallen headlong for her fae husband-to-be, but later, after they’d wed, when she recognized the trap that had closed about her?
The bracelet blurred beneath my gaze. Somehow I must hide it and all the questions it would bring—
“Miss Jessa?”
I jumped.
Holden hovered in the doorway. “Your chaperone has arrived.”
I tucked my wrist into my skirts, attempting to conceal the jeweled band. Fortunately, he appeared unharmed by the glamour worked on him, though he’d not mentioned Lord West, so perhaps his recall had been affected. I shoved that unsettling notion away. “Has Aunt Caris returned?”
“Not yet. Do you want me to show Miss Twells to her room?”
“Thank you, but I’ll see to her myself. I want her to feel at home.” I stood.
“Yes, Miss Jessa. She’s waiting in the drawing room.”
With the bracelet still pressed into the folds of my gown, I made my way to greet her.
In the drawing room, Dreda perched on a winged chair, her nerves over the new situation evident in the tight way she clutched her small valise.
I pushed all thoughts of Lord West from my mind and hastened forward. “Miss Twells, I’m thankful you’ve come.”
“It’s I who owe you thanks.” She tugged her bag to her chest, her expression earnest. “That you know the truth and still suggested your aunts offer me a position . . . I’m ever so grateful.”
“I believe Sister Margery best expressed the truth when she commended your fortitude in the face of great trial.” This time, I didn’t have to force warmth into my smile. “Besides, you’ve spared me from a dour guardian by the name of Ermenhild, who I hear loves nothing more than issuing lectures.”
An answering grin stretched across her face, revealing slightly crooked front teeth and tilting the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. “I won’t give lectures, but I’m not one to cast aspersions on anyone’s name, seeing as my full one is Aetheldreda.”
“Truly?”
“I’m afraid my parents chose to hold with tradition. That name was my gran’s before me, and hers before her.” She relaxed her grip on the valise. “Please just call me Dreda, no need for Miss Twells.”
“Then you must call me Jessa.”
“I don’t think your aunt would be best pleased with that.”
“Aunt Caris won’t mind,” I said. “But perhaps you should refrain in hearing of Aunt Melisina.”
“Of course.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “There’s one thing more. I don’t want you to think I was ungrateful before. Sister Margery told me you’d left your address, and I wanted to call to thank you, only I was afraid you might regret involving yourself with someone who’d been fae-touched. I didn’t want to cause trouble. But when she told me you recommended me to your aunts, I knew it must not be so—so I thank you for both the position and the . . . the other matter.”
“I’m happy I was able to help.” I shifted uncomfortably, the spindles of the chair digging into my back. I hoped she’d not taken the position solely because she believed she owed a debt. “I’m glad to have you, but I don’t want you to feel bound in any way—”
“Indeed, I don’t.” Her hazel eyes widened. Though she had nearly two decades on me, she appeared younger, unsure. “Before—well, before, my brothers were most gracious to me, but I was the only one of my siblings to remain unwed. They offered me a place to stay in turns, as I could be of assistance, and they provided for me, for which I’m truly grateful. But I’d no place to call my own—no true home, not after Father died.”
So she’d become a nonentity, a being that existed to serve whichever relations were charitable enough to take her in. As such, she’d be dependent on their goodwill and expected to do their bidding without complaint.
It wasn’t an uncommon fate, and it was one Aunt Caris sought to spare us from by seeing us marry well. Of course, if I could steward the trust from Ibbie well enough, we might be spared whether we secured a favorable match or not—though it was the least of my concerns at present. “I hope you’ll feel you have a home here, and you’ll let us know if you need anything for your comfort.”
My gaze fell upon her small valise. If that was truly all she possessed, then Aunt Caris would want to remedy it as swiftly as possible. “I’ll show you to your room—”
But before I could complete the thought, Aunt Caris herself bustled in, offering her own warm welcome to Dreda.
I willed her to take no note of the bracelet, for it to remain unnoticed as we settled our new chaperone. After showing Dreda her room, Aunt Caris performed the introductions to Ada and Ainslie, as well as the household staff. Though Father was truly absent now, gone on a short trip, the rest of us then gathered for dinner. Only later, when I retired for the evening, did I realize.
At some point, I’d stopped tucking the bracelet within my skirts. And it had drawn no one’s attention, garnered no remark. I pulled the bedquilts tight about myself.
Had Lord West glamoured it? Or . . . had I?
Chapter 12
As I’d expected, the next morning Aunt Caris insisted upon procuring a new wardrobe for Dreda and making it a family outing, so that Ada, Ainslie, and I could grow better acquainted with her.
I couldn’t escape without drawing suspicion, so I donned my hat and gloves with the best grace I could muster. Asrina climbed upon my reticule, as though she desired the safety of its confines once more, and when I opened it, she curled up inside. With my shoulder free, Jade availed herself of her favorite position, and together, we joined the others in the carriage.
Through our stops at the dressmaker and the milliner, the situation with Lord West and Kilmere preyed upon my mind, the shackle upon my wrist an ever-present reminder.
If Lord West hadn’t caused the recent deaths in Withern, then what had? A mortal poisoner, as Mr. Burke believed—or the curse of Kilmere? If the curse, then what was its origin? Did it spring from remnant fae-workings left from the Forgotten War or hidden objects of power from the same era? Or might some Otherkind lurk in its depths? Ibbie had spoken of delving deeper than was safe.
“What do you think of this hat, Jessa?” Ainslie lifted a charming confection of pink and white lace and held it up to Dreda.
She flushed. “Miss Ainslie, that’s best suited to a young lady coming out, not one such as myself.”
“It is lovely, though,” I said.
“But not proper.”
While she and Ainslie debated the matter, my thoughts drifted back to Kilmere. Our lore told of venomous Otherkind. Could the solution be so simple?
If Lord West knew a powerful Otherkind lurked in the depths of Kilmere, perhaps that was why he’d said no mortal could govern it.
Countless Otherworldly entities were believed to possess the capacity to poison mortals, wyvern, basilisks, and other draconic beings among them. But such large entities surely would have drawn attention—and thereby received credit for the deaths, rather than legends of a nebulous curse.
No, it seemed if some Otherkind were responsible, it must be something subtle and skulking that could strike from the shadows. A bau, perhaps? Mother had told stories of these powerful creatures who pooled shadows to disguise their movements before pouncing upon their unsuspecting prey, their bite imparting poison.
Could such a creature hibernate? Could Mr. Tibbons have woken it? I’d have to ask him if he’d seen any traces of life within the ruin. I ached to investigate myself, to cast off the limitations binding me to Avons and speak to those who believed in the curse—to dig into their lore and examine Kilmere with my own eyes. But once again, Lord West had been one step ahead.
“This would suit you, my dear.” Aunt Caris held up a leghorn-style hat trimmed with indigo silk flowers. “Would you like it?”
Her expression was hopeful so I murmured my thanks, then stepped back to watch my sisters and Aunt Caris. They clustered around Dreda, finalizing the choices for her attire. My chest burned. They belonged with each other in a way I did not. How could I bear it if they learned the truth?
Perhaps for now I could justify withholding it, when I did not fully understand what I was myself. But if fae blood had been passed down to me, could I continue to endanger them forever?
Somehow I offered my approval of the selections when asked and maintained my composure through luncheon, where I choked down a bit of food. Aunt Caris meant to take Dreda to the haberdashery afterward, but fortunately this time she accepted pleas of fatigue from Ada and me. She and Ainslie swept Dreda out the door, while Ada went to soothe her soul at the pianoforte and I fled to the gardens.
What now?
Speculating on the curse and how it might relate to Lord West’s desire to control Kilmere could give insight on how to stop him, but I required a more immediate defense, and I’d come up short with every attempt.
The only thing that had appeared to give him pause was Wyncourt. He’d wanted to enter, but it seemed the demesne had kept him out—and possibly sheltered Asrina from the full impact of his working.
She perched where I’d set her on the edge of the fountain, soaking up the warmth of the sun, her wings motionless. I didn’t want to consider what would have happened if we hadn’t been at Wyncourt when he’d struck.
But was it Wyncourt itself or some working within? Could the two even be separated? I trailed my fingers through the cool water of the fountain.
If I explored Wyncourt further, perhaps I could learn how it dissuaded him—and if I might put it to any practical use. I could hardly keep myself and my entire family confined within its walls forever, however much we required protection from Lord West.
As soon as Aunt Caris relinquished her claims on Dreda, I’d return.
“I’m certain you’ll find the gardens quite pleasant to explore.” Aunt Melisina’s voice, sweet and smooth as honeyed pears, drifted on the wind.
Company must be present.
On instinct, I shrank behind the fountain, but not before I caught a glimpse of Lord Bradford standing alongside Ada and Aunt Melisina. I lowered myself to hide beneath the stone rim.
“Won’t you accompany us?” A note of pleading threaded Ada’s words.
“I must consult with Caris on the menu for our upcoming dinner party first.”
“Aunt, perhaps I should—”
“Don’t discompose yourself, Ada,” Aunt Melisina said. “I don’t require your assistance. You need only enjoy your stroll.”
By leaving them alone, Aunt Melisina must intend to give opportunity for Lord Bradford to come to the point—to ask for Ada’s hand. Only a fool would imagine this suited Ada, and Aunt Melisina was no fool. That meant she didn’t care how Ada felt, only about the accomplishment of her own desire: a match to make all Avons envy. The flamesward across from me murmured with an anger to match my own.
Body crouched low, Jade prowled around the edge of the fountain, and I stole another peek through the surrounding shrubbery. Lord Bradford had tucked Ada’s hand in his arm, his gaze lingering rather lower than it should, while she appeared pale and strained.
“I’ve long hoped for a moment alone.” His tone conveyed his satisfaction with the arrangement.
“Lord Bradford, you know I—”
“I know you care a great deal for your family and their views.” His lips tilted upward into a satisfied smirk. “Therefore, I believe you will come to share their view of a marriage between us.”
“I do care for them—”
“Then we are in accord.”
They approached the fountain and stopped just short of it. Ada took the opportunity to free herself, but he stepped closer, trapping her against it.
“Come, you need not be shy, not with me.”
“Lord Bradford, this isn’t what I want.”
“You don’t know what you want. Women rarely do.”
She inhaled sharply, looking for all the world like a bird caught in a snare—how I’d felt with Lord West. But Lord Bradford was not fae. I could stop him, and I refused to stand by and watch her suffer his unwelcome advances.
How might I best intervene? Aunt Melisina had an iron will. She doubtless kept watch over the situation from a window. If I showed myself, she’d do her best to fetch me in and allow him to carry on.
But if I could remove Lord Bradford from the situation altogether . . . Before I could think better of it, I bent to murmur in Jade’s ear. “Can you make him go?”
Perhaps it was ridiculous to speak to her so, to give credence to the theory that something Other had given her greater intellect than any ordinary cat. Yet she’d shown evidence of it time and again, never mind her refusal to respond when asked.
A rumble sounded from deep in her chest, and her pupils dilated. Then she clambered up onto the lowest limb of the overhanging oak, from which she launched herself onto Lord Bradford.
He staggered forward under the unexpected weight, barked his shin on the edge of the fountain, and toppled in, while Jade gracefully sprang from his back and landed on the path beyond.
He rose sputtering and swearing.
Jade lounged at her ease.
“Oh dear!” Ada hurried forward, pressing her lips together, her eyes gleaming with suppressed laughter.
He stopped muttering oaths and drew himself up, as though attempting to collect his tattered dignity. Then he glared at me. “What manner of foul beast do you permit to roam free? I’ve heard talk of your monstrous cat, but this—it’s a menace!”
The distant snick of a door closing and the crunch of boots on crushed stone heralded Aunt Melisina’s arrival. “Lord Bradford! I trust you’re unharmed?”
“I’m fine.” His jaw tightened. “But I cannot say the same of my attire.” He crammed on his soaked hat and marched from the gardens with a muttered by-your-leave.
When he vanished into the depths of the house, Aunt Melisina whirled about.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” Her voice snapped like a whip. “He intended to make Ada an offer, despite the lack of encouragement she’s given. If he never comes up to scratch after this, I shall hold you and that monstrous creature responsible, Jessa.”
Jade stopped licking her paw and bared her teeth at Aunt Melisina. Before she could execute another attack, I scooped her up. “Better that she never receive an offer for the rest of her days than she entertain one from him. We’d intended to speak with Father upon his return, but you may as well know the truth now—Lord Bradford has at least three natural children and shows no sign of taking any scruple to care for them or his discarded mistresses.”
