Ruins of bone, p.24
Ruins of Bone, page 24
“So you are considering excavation?” The words leapt from his lips, quick and eager.
“I’m entertaining the notion, yes.” I looped the lavender-filled basket over my arm. “In the meantime, I’d like you to carry out a charge for me in Avons. My trustees have assured me your salary may be drawn from Lady Dromley’s estate, if you wish to continue working on her behalf.”
A broad smile split his face. “Any chance of exploring the ruin, and I’m in.”
“Very good. How are you when it comes to copy work?” I asked.
“I’ve done my share for Lady Dromley. If I was unable to obtain documents, she required exact replicas, down to the most obscure blots on the page.”
“Then I shall request the same.” Leaves rustled above our heads, a quiet murmur. “Upon the recovery of Mrs. Darrington, a friend of Lady Dromley’s, I intend to ask if she will get you access to the Antiquary Society.”
His eyes lit. “If you could do that, Miss Caldwell, I’d work without pay.”
“I’ll certainly do my best. If Mrs. Darrington secures you entrance, please copy whatever you can find within their archive pertaining to Kilmere or Withern-at-Sea.” Doubtless Ibbie possessed the greatest portion of any information they held, but given her easy access to the archive, she might not have copied everything to her own records—and I’d not leave it to chance. “Once you’ve located what you can, bring the documents to Withern.”
“With pleasure.” After a polite farewell, he took his leave.
Dreda remained serenely perched on the fountain edge, knitting. Evidently, she did not intend to leave while Riven remained.
He turned to me. “Something clouds his memories of Kilmere. As I imagine you don’t want me mucking about his mind, I cannot say the extent of it.”
“Jade told me as much.”
“Ah. You’re getting on with your kit-isne better of late.”
“You didn’t tell me what she was.” The words tumbled out before I could check them.
“She went to great lengths to conceal it from you. It wasn’t my place to interfere with the bond nor the arrangements made between you.”
For such a magnanimous statement, Jade offered the slightest incline of her head. Perhaps he’s more worthy of trust than his reputation suggests.
A slight incongruity caught my attention. “Once before, you told me you didn’t read minds.”
“I don’t.” The pressure in the air around us shifted, taking on the charge of an oncoming storm.
He couldn’t lie, but didn’t want me to inquire further—nor would I dare, not when he wore such a forbidding expression. Yet I didn’t understand.
The fur along Jade’s neck lifted slightly. Sometimes I forget how little you know.
Will you enlighten me?
She wove between my ankles. I can perceive what’s within the mind of another, what they currently think and desire—what you might call mind reading. And I can speak mind-to-mind. What arbiters do is altogether different. They compel truth, and they may enter the mindscape itself, dredging past memories, forcing recall of what they will. Often they may force the truth from without the mind, but in cases where geas or glamour conceal reality, they force the truth to surface from within the mindscape—which usually shatters the mind in question. It’s one of many reasons arbiters are feared.
I bent to pick her up, hiding my face in her fur. You are . . . certain of this?
Jessa. I lived in the Court of Gold for several centuries before I came to your world. I am quite sure.
Does that mean he could enter the mindscape and command even another fae to do his bidding?
No. It’s a unique blending of affinities that will only work to seek truth. One of several affinities that makes an arbiter. Affinities cannot be altered. You may strengthen them, allow them to atrophy, or forsake them altogether, but you cannot change their nature.
My stomach churned. Just how dangerous was Riven, truly? I’d so many more questions about affinities and how they worked and what fae did with them and . . .
Yet the air fairly crackled now, and the sculpted planes of his face drew tight. Did he guess what passed between Jade and me? He must know we talked, for I’d subsided into silence. Did he take offense?
“Do you wish to return to the matter at hand?” The words emerged cold.
Not trusting my voice, I nodded.
“Tibbons’s condition suggests there’s a reason the workings at Kilmere allow mortals to pass freely. It might try to influence them, perhaps coerce them to its will or make them more biddable to fae.”
I pressed away the new, unsettling knowledge Jade had imparted. “If that were true, what would it mean?”
“That Kilmere is of fae origin.”
Of fae origin? To my knowledge, fae had never lived openly among mortals, yet to construct a fortress the size of Kilmere would have taken years. What measures had they taken to conceal their nature—and how might it have impacted the people of Withern?
Small wonder Ibbie had believed Kilmere held keys to understanding the relationship between fae and mortals. If fae had established an outpost of this significance near Withern—and we’d forgotten it or been glamoured out of remembering—then it provided further evidence in support of a war between our worlds.
What would it mean if Riven was right, and something in Kilmere influenced the minds of mortals? If that were true, perhaps Mr. Burke was also correct. Perhaps a mortal had committed the murders, his mind clouded by the workings within.
I clutched Jade closer.
Which would be worse? The knowledge that a fae-working moved mortals to murder or that a malevolent force stretched out from the ruins to blight the town? A bird chirruped overhead, bright and clear, jarring me back to the present—and a new question. “If Kilmere might be of fae origin, then why would the workings keep Otherkind out?”
“Our courts don’t exist in harmony—high fae are no more a monolithic entity than mortals. What one court possesses, they might wish to keep all others from obtaining.” His expression remained distant, his fae nature closer to the surface. “We need to get inside. How quickly can you depart for Withern?”
“We leave in the morning, according to Aunt Caris.”
“Good. I suggest you introduce me to the rest of your family now. Tell them I have interest in the ruins, and I intend to take lodgings in Withern that I might explore them with you. Otherwise, they may have inconvenient questions later.”
He was right, and yet . . . I looped my fingers into Jade’s thick fur. Of necessity, I’d trusted him with my own fate, but could I make that choice for my family—particularly after what Jade had said?
“Do you object?” His impassive demeanor gave no hint of his thoughts.
I looked away. “At Wyncourt, you glamoured my father, and—”
“It was for his protection, and it did him no harm.”
“Yet you took the decision from him.”
“And I’d do the same again, if the situation requires. I cannot promise otherwise.” He spoke in the same emotionless tone one might use to discuss the weather, and it offered no hint of reassurance. “This is your family. It’s your choice to further the acquaintance—or not.”
Yet it was no choice, not when Lord West waited to claim Kilmere and destroy us, not when fae-workings I could not hope to combat were woven into the boundaries of Kilmere, and who-knew-what-else awaited within. Riven knew it as well as I did. I required his help, and this was the most certain path forward, never mind my fears. “Give me ten minutes, then come to the front door.”
Chapter 21
I should have asked Riven for more time, since ten minutes had proven far too short a measure in which to collect my scattered thoughts and emotions and gather some semblance of composure. With slow steps, I made my way back toward the house, where I went in search of Aunt Caris and my sisters. Even now, I did what I’d accused Riven of—I’d weighed the options and chosen the one I judged less dangerous for my family, without their consent. The knowledge brought a sour taste to the back of my mouth. Did I have the right to do so?
Jade nudged my chin. What alternative do you propose?
I can think of none—that’s the trouble. Yet each time I took such a step, I became closer to what I feared being. Riven would appear on the doorstep soon, and then . . . there would be no going back.
Jade chuffed, her breath warm on my face, a small consolation. Then together we slipped into the drawing room, where Ainslie was offering a lively rendition of an encounter with a frail wisp of a woman struggling to contain a strong-minded pug within the millinery. She soon had Aunt Caris and Ada laughing with her account of the destruction said pug left in its wake. Despite the turmoil within, a smile sprang to my own lips.
Then Holden cleared his throat, and I jumped. “It’s Lord Riven, Miss Caldwell.”
I glanced up.
Just beyond Holden, Riven waited. Something had shifted in his expression. It was softer, more open, with perhaps a flicker of—longing? As abruptly as it had appeared, it vanished. When he strode into the room, only the elegant glamour of a gentleman remained.
“Lord Riven!” Aunt Caris’s cheeks bore a residual flush from laughter, like the petals of a sunbloom. She beamed upon him, her displeasure over the matter of the will either forgotten or discarded before the pleasing prospect he offered. After all, she’d at one time announced her desire to form a match between Lord Riven and one of us. “How delightful that you’ve come to call.”
“I would have taken the time to pay my respects the other day, had my errand not been urgent.” He maintained the languid demeanor so many gentlemen favored, yet just below the surface, Other surged, pricking against my senses. “I thought it past time to call and receive a formal introduction to the rest of your family.”
“Of course.” Her hand fluttered to the lace at her throat, smoothed its folds. “You know Jessa from your dealings with Wyncourt and Kilmere, but these are my other nieces, Adamina and Ainslie.”
He offered the proper greetings, and an undercurrent of fae charm lent a brightness to the conversation. Before it, Aunt Caris and my sisters were at their sparkling best—and yet, unlike Lord West, he did not press his advantage.
“Miss Jessa has informed me that you depart for Withern-at-Sea in the morning,” Riven said at length.
“Indeed, we quite look forward to it,” Aunt Caris replied.
I inclined my head. “Lord Riven has an interest in Kilmere, and as it happens, he also intends to spend some time in Withern-at-Sea. He’s offered to aid in my exploration of the ruins, as he has expertise in this field.”
“What a lovely idea.” A speculative gleam entered her eyes as she surveyed him. “We shall be delighted to receive you at any time.”
And with that, she put her seal on my choice. By allying with Other, I’d already embraced the forbidden, making a decision that would condemn me in the eyes of my world. But now, I’d joined the fate of my family with my own by willingly bringing another high fae into their midst.
Had I made the right decision?
By the time we departed the following morning, the sun burned hot. Even as she climbed into the carriage, Aunt Caris called out final instructions to the servants, at last subsiding onto the seat alongside Ada and Ainslie.
Dreda sat to my left, Jade to my right, and Asrina perched on my shoulder, casting her radiant glow over the deep blue of my traveling gown.
Our carriage clattered over cobblestones, the sound of its creaking wheels mingling with the lively noises of the city. I perched on the edge of my seat, as though I could urge it to greater speed.
Kilmere waited.
Even from afar, it drew me, and our days of travel chafed, though I kept myself occupied the best I could through the long hours in the carriage and nights we must stay at inns along the way.
At last, the salt tang of sea air wafted into the carriage, the first sign we neared Withern.
I looked up from my sketchbook, where I’d outlined the spiny form of the sea buckthorn that had sprawled outside our last inn. Perhaps I should add it to my herbalism guide, for the many benefits it offered to soothe everything from stomach to skin, despite its bristling spines.
When our carriage crested a hill, I peered down upon the town, a picturesque cluster of blue-roofed buildings, most of whitewashed stone, tucked into a tumbled stone landscape. It curved gently around the harbor, beckoning all comers.
Then I twisted back to glance to the north. On a distant clifftop at the edge of the sea, the ruins of Kilmere stretched dark and sprawling, overlooking Withern like a dragon prepared to spring on its prey. All I desired was to reach it as swiftly as I might—before it struck again.
Could I manage a trip today? Aunt Caris would surely insist we all get properly settled, but I’d try my best.
The others kept their gazes firmly fixed on the enchanting sea, its rich blues and greens kissing a pale sky.
“Oh, I’m glad we’ve come.” A gentle smile crossed Ada’s face, and she pressed her fingers to the warm glass. “A respite by the sea—it’s perfect.”
After perhaps another mile or so, our carriage halted in front of a charming country home that went by the name Willowere, built by one of the younger sons of Denby Hall several generations ago and now routinely let, since they did not require its use—though they did require the income it brought, most likely.
A message from Aunt Caris’s friend had awaited us at an inn along the way, informing us with great pride that she’d let it on our behalf. She’d enumerated both its charms and its history and informed Aunt Caris she’d taken the liberty of arranging for the housekeeper, cook, and maid of all work that ordinarily served the tenants of Willowere to care for us during our stay.
Her high praise of Willowere fell short of the mark. If anything, she’d understated its charms. It sat on a gentle hill, which sloped down toward a lake surrounded by stately willows, whose soft melodies drifted toward me.
As for the cottage itself, abundant gardens surrounded it, and its stone remained a soft gray, rather than the whitewash favored within town. On either end, massive chimneys stretched toward the sky, and a generous bank of triple windows flanked the door on either side. Sprawling pearlflowers occupied the space beneath, their delicate boughs waving a welcome.
Our driver drew the carriage to a halt in front of the house, and the footman hastened to help us descend.
Aunt Caris led the way. She thrust open the door, then stopped short on the threshold. “What in the Crossings?”
When she stumbled back, I peered into the wide entry. In the hall and the chambers I could glimpse beyond, everything had been upended—furniture overturned, paintings knocked askew, glass shattered. I crossed the threshold, and my feet crunched on something—broken glass?
“My dear, come back.” Aunt Caris beckoned to me from the doorway. “Some intruder may remain.”
Jade, do you perceive anyone?
She picked her way among the debris on the wide plank floors, her ears flicking back and forth. No, they’ve long since gone.
“Please, come back.” Aunt Caris gripped the door handle as though it offered a lifeline. “It may be unsafe.”
I withdrew. There’d be time enough to survey the damage later. Yet what had we walked into? Willowere should have offered a haven, a safe place from which to investigate Kilmere, but this?
Ada pressed her hand to her mouth. “Who could possibly have done this?”
“And why?” Ainslie peered over my shoulder, her dark eyes absorbing every detail.
“It scarcely matters,” Aunt Caris said. “Clearly, these lodgings are unsuitable, but I cannot think what we will do now.”
With a flutter of its expansive wings, a raven landed on the hedge, surveying us with its beady eye. A harbinger, perhaps, but of what?
Before I could voice a response, a lean, long-limbed woman swept up the lane. A few strands of her hair escaped tight coils to sweep around her elongated face like tendrils of a horsetail fern. She halted abruptly before us. “Heard you were coming today, though I’d a mind to make it before you. I’m Mrs. Warren—I’m to keep house for you.”
Aunt Caris murmured a feeble greeting.
Mrs. Warren glanced through the door and then back at us. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Ainslie tilted her head. “I’d rather hoped you might tell us. We just arrived and opened the house to find someone has wreaked havoc within.”
Her mouth pinched to a firm line. “Might have known.”
“Known what?” I asked.
“It’s what comes of meddling with the curse, miss. It meddles back.”
“Meddling in the . . . curse?” Aunt Caris looked as though she wanted to sink into the ground. “What curse?”
I very much doubted a fae-working would enter a home and upend its contents. Regardless of the cause, might we be held responsible, since it had occurred upon our arrival? The sum for repair would be greater than I cared to consider. The raven on the hedge gave a loud kraa, and we all jumped.
“We’ve meddled in nothing,” I said.
“Jessa.” A warning note entered Aunt Caris’s voice. I pressed the bounds of propriety by addressing the housekeeper in such a way.
The housekeeper ignored Aunt Caris, her lips tightening as she regarded me. “Aye, but you’ve come to survey Kilmere, have you not?”
“How did you know?”
“No secrets in a town like this.” She shot a narrow glance at the five of us. “That Tibbons fellow said he worked on behalf of a Caldwell, and now here’s a whole lot of you. Just look what happened after he arrived. What’s to come next, I dread to think.”
Ainslie had edged closer to the housekeeper as she spoke, absorbing every word as though she made mental notes which she’d use to compose a story—the very last thing I needed.
I shifted Jade in my arms. “If you refer to the deaths, the authorities claim to have apprehended the poisoner.”
Aunt Caris blanched, yet before she could raise further objection to our exchange, the housekeeper spoke.
