The Zero Secret

(The Zero Enigma X)

Christopher G. Nuttall

Book One: The Zero Blessing
Book Two: The Zero Curse
Book Three: The Zero Equation
Book Four: The Family Shame
Book Five: The Alchemist’s Apprentice
Book Six: The Family Pride
Book Seven: The King’s Man
Book Eight: The Lady Heiress
Book Nine: The Family Name
Book Ten: The Zero Secret

http://www.chrishanger.net
http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/
http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall
https://mewe.com/page/5cd32005dc9f631c9973f058
	
Cover by Brad Fraunfelter

www.BFillustration.com

All Comments and Reviews Welcome!

Cover Blurb

A thousand years ago, an empire died.  No one knew why.  Not until now.

Seven years ago, Caitlyn “Cat” Aguirre - the first of the magicless Zeros - was kidnapped and taken to the ruins of the Eternal City.  There, she discovered the dread secret behind the collapse of the Thousand-Year Empire, a secret she knew she didn’t dare share with the world.  But now, with strange sightings and energies emitting from the ruined city - and a darkening political situation back home - Cat has no choice, but to return to the dead city.  

And what she finds there will change everything ...

Author’s Note

The vast majority of this book is written from Cat - Caitlyn - Aguirre’s point of view, a return to the character who was first introduced in The Zero Blessing.  However, for reasons connected to the overall story arc development, three chapters have been written from the perspective of Rebecca Travis, who was first introduced in The Alchemist’s Apprentice.  I have put her name at the top of those chapters, in hopes of making the POV character a little clearer.  I have also attached a historian’s note as an appendix, detailing what happened in previous volumes and noting when certain characters made their first appearance.

I further expound on this in the afterword.

CGN

Prologue

It just wasn’t fair!

Lady Henrietta Rubén lay on her bed and sulked.  It wasn’t fair.  The entire family, from the highest to the lowest, was attending the Empire Day ceremony, save for her.  The cloud mansion was deserted, except her - and the small army of meksects.  Everyone - at least, everyone who mattered - was in place to see and be seen, save for her.  It just wasn’t fair!

She glared at her image in the reflective spellform, thinking words she’d never dare say out loud, certainly nowhere her mother could hear.  Everyone said she looked like her mother - long blonde hair, a heart-shaped face, lips that could turn from smile to ice in a second - and yet, she was still a child.  Legally.  She was seventeen and still a child, still bound by her parents’ will, still locked in their home with no right to leave.  She hadn’t minded, not until her mother had ruined her prospects.  Everyone who was anyone was attending today’s Empire Day ceremony but her.  High Society would be talking about her.  They would wonder, behind their painted faces and false smiles, just what she’d done to deserve to be grounded on this, the greatest day of the century.  Henrietta had no idea what excuse her mother would give, if she’d even bother to come up with a story, but it didn’t matter.  High Society would draw its own conclusions.  It always did.

Her mother’s condemnation rang in her ears.  “You can trace your bloodline back through a thousand generations of powerful magicians,” she’d said.  “You are the descendent of Senators and Grand Senators and Consuls, men and women who have served the Empire loyally and been rewarded for their service.  And yet, you throw it all away on that boy!”

Henrietta winced at the thought.  Johan Aguirre was hardly a weakling.  His family had been part of the aristocracy for over a hundred years.  They had powerful magic which they’d shared with the world.  So what if they kept their seat in distant Shallot, rather than establishing a home in the Eternal City?  Johan was a good man, from a strong bloodline.  He would father strong children.  And all they’d done, really, was trade letters.  They had never been alone long enough to do anything more.

She clenched her fists as she sat up, wondering who’d ratted her out.  Her brothers and sisters, intent on preventing her from forming a relationship?  Her cousins, keen to weaken the core bloodline’s grip on the family?  Her maid ... it was possible.  The woman knew better than to alienate her charge’s mother, even if it meant betraying a confidence.  It didn’t matter.  The letters she’d thought were hidden had found their way to her mother and she’d pronounced a fearful sentence.  Henrietta had pleaded, then begged, in a manner that would have shamed her ancestors.  Her mother had been firm.  Henrietta was not to attend the ceremony - or even leave the cloud mansion - and if she tried, the meksects would stop her.

Henrietta stood, brushing down her dress and glaring around the room.  It was crammed with wonders, from expensive books to the very latest in crystal games, but she wanted to be at the ceremony.  She needed to be there.  She racked her brains, trying to think of a way to get out without being caught, but nothing came to mind.  The mansion’s wards were strong.  They’d stop her if she tried to leave, or summon a bubble, or even call one of her friends to take her away.  Not that anyone would come, she reflected sourly.  They were all at the ceremony.

She paced through the door and along the corridor, heading up to the roof.  The mansion was completely deserted, save for the meksects.  She could break into the other rooms, in search of blackmail material or something, but there was no joy in it.  Not now.  She shook her head as she reached the upper level and stepped onto the penthouse floor.  Her mother had had the whole mansion covered in bunting, ensuring anyone who flew nearby was treated to a diorama of the family’s greatest achievements.  Henrietta suspected her mother was wasting her time.  Her ancestors had been so significant that their deeds were listed in even one-volume historical textbooks.  The family certainly splashed out enough money, every year, to see that it was so.

I’ll have to move to Shallot and live with Great Uncle Mycroft, she thought, as she walked the balcony and peered over the city.  No one will take me seriously here, not after ...

She shook her head, feeling tears prickling at the corner of her eye.  Great Uncle Mycroft was a drinker.  Or so she’d been told.  She’d heard worse, whispered by servants and very distant relatives.  Too high-ranking to be simply ignored, or squashed by his superiors, he’d been sent to Shallot and promised a generous pension as long as he didn’t come back.  Henrietta wondered, idly, if she’d be able to claim the same.  Perhaps she could meet Johan in Shallot or ... who knew?  Her mother would probably disown Henrietta if she married without the family’s consent.

The wind shifted.  A faint gust of something blew against her face.  Henrietta brushed the hair out of her eyes, frowning at a sudden sense of disquiet.  The Eternal City looked so safe and tranquil.  The skies were crowded with floating mansions and CityBlocks, the streets below clean and tidy ... perfectly maintained by the ever-present meksects.  Bubbles of light flew through the air, gliding towards the Grand Senate itself.  She felt her heart sink as her eyes followed a bubble, carrying a latecomer to the floating building.  There were people from all over the Empire gathered in the hovering mansion.  Deals would be made, marriages would be arranged ... the power structure of the next fifty years was being shaped right in front of her but she was excluded.  She knew she wasn’t that important, in the greater scheme of things, but ...

Another gust of something brushed against her, a strange feeling of weakness running through her body.  Henrietta shivered, though the air was warm.  The city’s weather was always temperate, thanks to the spells pervading the floating buildings.  She’d been surprised to encounter rain, the first time she’d travelled outside the city.  The idea of water falling from the sky still struck her as strange.

The Grand Senate tilted, then fell.

Henrietta stared, convinced - just for a second - that she was imagining it.  The Grand Senate was older than her grandmother.  It had floated above the city for countless years, casting a shadow over the entire world.  And yet ... the building hit the ground with a tremendous noise, a shockwave rippling out from the impact and straight towards her ... Henrietta tensed, too late, as the air slapped against her bare skin.  Horror flared through her mind.  Her family had been there.  Her parents, her siblings ... everyone’s parents and siblings.  And ...

She stared as the remainder of the floating mansions started to fall.  A bubble altered course, trying to get away from ... from whatever was happening.  Too late.  Henrietta saw the light wink out, the darkened flying machine losing power and falling out of the sky.  She thought she saw a screaming figure jump clear, waving his hands in a desperate spell.  Nothing happened.  She saw him vanish and knew he’d hit the ground.  The impact would have killed him.

The scale of the disaster was beyond her.  The falling mansions were crashing into each other, showering debris on the streets below.  She saw an apartment block crumble into rubble after it was struck, watched helplessly as another collapsed into dust for no apparent reason.  There were hundreds of thousands of people in the city.  It was beyond her to comprehend that many were already dead, that many more would die in the next few moments.  The world was changing before her eyes.

She heard something crash behind her and turned to see a meksect grind to a halt, its mandibles falling to the ground as it lost power.  Her servant ... something twisted in her heart, an instant before the world shifted under her feet.  The mansion was starting to tilt ... no, it was starting to fall!  Whatever had ruined the city hadn’t stopped, not yet.  Henrietta was too numb to panic.  She raised her hand and chanted a levitation spell.  The wards should have stopped her, but she couldn’t feel them any longer.  She could fly up and hover until the disaster came to an end.  It wasn’t much of a plan, but she couldn’t think of anything else.  She kept chanting ...

Nothing happened.

Panic flared through her mind.  The magic ... the magic was gone.  She couldn’t sense the wards because they were gone, too.  The meksects were dying because they ran on magic ... the entire city ran on magic.  The floating mansions and palaces and castles and government buildings were plummeting and no one could do anything to save them!  She held out a hand, summoning her flying stick ... and realised, an instant too late, that it was pointless.  If the bubbles were dying, the flying sticks were likely dying too.

The mansion fell.  Henrietta ran, knowing it was already too late.  Her family was dead.  She would be dead too, within the next few seconds.  Great Uncle Mycroft would be all that was left of them ... she felt the floor tilt again, then fell back as gravity reasserted itself.  She saw another bubble flying past her and felt a moment of hope, before realising it was heading down.  Her feet lost their grip completely as the mansion dropped from the sky, sending her flying into the air ...

... And, screaming, Henrietta fell towards the ground far below.

Chapter One

The Object of Power was a mystery.

I stared at it, feeling a puzzlement I was unwilling to admit to anyone - except, perhaps, Akin.  I knew - now, after years of research and experimentation - how to trace the lines of magic that traced out the spellform within the Object of Power.  I should have been able to determine how it interacted with the magical field and project - roughly - what it was intended to do.  A working Object of Power should have been easy to understand.  I didn’t have to take it to bits to figure out how it worked.  This one, however ...

It was odd.  It looked like a glowing orange rectangular building block, no larger than my arm, yet all my tests indicated it was actually a cube.  It wasn’t uncommon for an Object of Power to look weird, as if the human mind wasn’t quite capable of grasping what it was, but this one was particularly odd.  I hadn’t been able to determine anything about it, from what processes had been used to forge it to what it actually did.  The more I looked at it, the more my puzzlement grew.  I was the most experienced Zero in the world - until recently, I’d been the only Zero - and yet I couldn’t understand what I saw.  The Object of Power just made no sense.

I reached for my heavy spectacles and put them on, peering at the strands of power running through the Object of Power.  They twisted in ways I couldn’t follow, as if they were gliding in and out of reality itself.  I’d sketched the lines out repeatedly, in hopes of calculating even a tiny fraction of their function, but I’d drawn a blank.  The Object of Power seemed to do nothing, beyond producing a bright orange glow.  I was sure there was more to the mystery artefact than that.  There was no need to go to so much trouble to forge a light.  I could have crafted something to produce light that would have been quick, simple and easy to repair if it broke.

And there’s no one who can offer me advice, I thought, as I took a step back from the workbench and removed the spectacles.  Not being able to see magic was a severe disadvantage.  One of my first projects had been to forge an Object of Power that would allow me to see magic before it touched my skin.  No one else has the slightest idea how to take the Object apart.

I rubbed my eyes.  The Thousand-Year Empire had spent hundreds of years honing its understanding of magic.  It had known how to make best use of its magic-less Zeros.  And yet ... so much had been lost since the Thousand-Year Empire had collapsed.  I’d come so far since discovering my talent - and the truth behind the Empire’s fall - and yet I knew there was so much left to be rediscovered.  The volumes upon volumes of surviving books hadn’t been as helpful as I’d hoped, even after I’d worked out what was missing.  The Empire had considered some things so obvious they’d never been written down.

The air shifted, wafting against me.  I sighed.  The Workshop - my Workshop - had been designed for an entire class of Zeros.  Six years ago, we’d believed it was just a matter of time before more Zeros were discovered.  I’d seen myself studying long-lost magics and powers with my peers, uncovering secrets and discovering newer and better ways to do things.  Instead, I was alone.  Callam, the only other known Zero, had little interest in forging.  It was still hard to believe.  If he’d chosen to stay in the city ...

My heart twisted.  Callam was engaged to Isabella Rubén.  Akin’s sister.  My former nemesis... I shook my head, dismissing the memories with a flicker of irritation.  Isabella and I might be on better terms these days, but I was still wary.  The sooner she went back to her country estate, the better.  I’d gone to some trouble to forge Objects of Power to keep her and Callam safe.  It was just a matter of time before someone tried to force him to work for them.  Why not?  It wasn’t the first time.  I’d been kidnapped, too, six years ago.

“Ah hem,” a voice said.  “What are you doing here?”

I jumped and tried to hide it.  There weren’t many people who could sneak up on me.  My senses were sharp, at least partly because I couldn’t rely on magic to protect me.  My sisters could, perhaps, but anyone else ... I turned, composing my face with an effort.  Mum stood on the other side of the workroom, right on the edge of the red line, arms folded under her breasts.  I swallowed, hard.  Mum had spent the last week working herself into a frenzy, making sure everything was ready for the High Summer Ball, when my sisters and I would be presented to High Society.  Everyone who was anyone - or considered themselves someone - would be there.  I wasn’t so concerned, myself.  I was already betrothed.  Akin and I could spend the night dancing, then slip off ...

Mum tapped her foot.  “Do you know what time it is?”

“I lost track of time,” I said.  “It was three o’clock a moment ago.”

“Really?”  Mum pointed a finger at the clock on the wall.  It was pure clockwork, without even a hint of magic.  “What time is it?”

I followed her finger.  “Oh.”

“Oh indeed, young lady.”  Mum was normally kinder, but the last week had worn her down to the point she was snapping at anyone who crossed her path.  “It is six.  Six in the evening.  And when are you supposed to make your debut in front of High Society?”

“Eight,” I said, sourly.  The ball was supposed to start at seven, but - by tradition - the high sticklers would be fashionably late.  We wouldn’t be presented until there was a good-sized audience.  “I’ve got time.”

Mum rested her hands on her hips.  It was hard to see, sometimes, how we were related.  My mother and I had the same dark skin, dark eyes and darker hair, but her face was sharp while mine was slightly more rounded.  I supposed it wasn’t that hard to understand.  Alana had taken after our mother, Bella had taken after our father and I, the third sister, looked like a mix of both of them.  And yet ...

“You may feel that you don’t have to be there,” Mum said.  “Your sisters, however, need to be formally introduced.  And you need to be there, too, to remind everyone of your existence.”

I tried not to roll my eyes.  I’d heard the lecture before, time and time again.  It never changed.  I was betrothed, but my sisters weren’t.  Not yet.  They needed to dance with eligible young men while their parents discussed possible engagements and ... I shook my head.  My sisters were among the most eligible young women in the city.  They could be as ugly as Great Aunt Stregheria and they’d still be sure of good matches.  It might even be better for them if I wasn’t around.  There were too many families who feared what would happen if their firstborn heir was born without magic.

“And Akin will also be there,” Mum said.  That was a change.  “You want to be there for him, don’t you?”

I nodded, stiffly.  Akin and I had been betrothed for years.  I loved him, but ... I’d expected years, perhaps even decades, before he had to take up his duties as Patriarch of House Rubén.  Our planned honeymoon had already been ruined.  There was no one he could trust to run the house, even for a few short weeks.  I understood - I’d been raised in the same culture, where the family came before the individual - but it still hurt.  It felt as if I would never get to leave the city again.

“Now, come here,” Mum said.  “Or do I have to frog-march you up to your rooms?”

I hastily put down my tools and hurried over to join her.  I’d drawn the red line to keep magicians out of my workspace, for fear of what would happen when their magical fields interacted with the Objects of Power.  I’d nearly died when a potion had exploded in my face.  Mum wouldn’t mean to ruin weeks of work, but she would if she crossed the line.  She shot me a stern look and marched down the corridor, away from the workshop.  I closed the door, snapped the protective bolt into place and followed her.  There was no point in arguing when my mother was in a murderous mood.

This is her day as much as it is yours, I reminded myself, crossly.  You don’t get a day of your own until you get married.

The corridors felt deserted as we made our way upstairs.  The majority of the staff would be in the ballroom or the kitchens, making the final preparations for the ball.  The remainder would be getting my sisters ready, dressing them as if they couldn’t don their own clothes.  I had to smile, even though it wasn’t funny.  There were outfits that couldn’t be donned without help.  Thankfully, my sisters and I - in a rare moment of complete agreement - had refused to walk down the stairs wearing anything of the sort.  Mum hadn’t been pleased, but she’d backed down.

“It is important that you be there,” Mum said, as we stopped outside my rooms.  “Your sisters need you.”

I groaned.  I’d always taken a certain pride in paying as little attention as possible to the conventions of High Society.  It wasn’t as if they could kick me out.  My talents were effectively priceless and I was already betrothed.  I could cheat on my exams, murder my parents and - horror of horrors - wear trousers in polite company and no one would dare say anything against me.  Not openly, at least.  But I knew it wasn’t so easy for my sisters.  The Grande Dames were going to pass judgement on them tonight.  And I had to be there.

“Fine.”  I stepped forward and pushed the door open.  “Let’s get it over with.”

“Yes,” Mum agreed.  She patted my shoulder.  “You’ll be fine.”

I tried not to show my discomfort as I stepped into the room.  Janet, Grace and Ellen - the maids - were already there.  They were lesser family, close enough to the main bloodline to be assured of employment and yet too far to be given any real power.  They didn’t have the talent to boost their position, or set themselves up as family clients.  There were times when I envied them.  They could go anywhere they wanted - they could even leave the city - and no one would give much of a damn.  Me?  It was hard enough walking the streets of North Shallot without a bodyguard.

The door closed behind me.  I felt uncomfortably vulnerable.  I didn’t like maids entering my rooms - I’d made it clear none of them were to enter my bedroom - and three of them at once bothered me.  It made me feel like I was about to be jumped.  My lips twisted at the thought.  It wasn’t that far from the truth.  Mum would have given them strict orders to disregard any objections - as if I was a toddler, unable to tell what was good for me - and prepare me for the ball.  I felt like a prize sow, going on display.  And it still struck me as pointless.

“This way, My Lady,” Ellen said.  She was only a couple of years older than me, but she had a no-nonsense attitude I would have admired under other circumstances.  “We have everything ready.”

I swallowed several cutting remarks as they led me into the bathroom and started to remove my clothes before half-carrying me into the bathtub.  The water smelled almost overpoweringly sweet, laced with perfume that my mother brewed personally.  The scent would fade, a little, by the time I joined my sisters for the ceremony.  I tried to stay still - somehow - as hands picked through my hair, undoing the braids and washing my scalp.  It struck me, suddenly, that after today I’d never wear my hair in braids again.  I’d be an adult.  I could do everything adults could do.  I could ...

But they still won’t leave me alone with Akin until we’re safely wed, I thought, with a flicker of amusement.  Does this ceremony have any real meaning at all?

I tried not to snap as they helped me out of the bath, dried me with a pair of spells and then ran charmed combs through my hair.  It had always been springy, but High Society demanded long straight locks that ran all the way down to my backside.  It had been a minor frustration, when I’d been a child.  There were charms to straighten one’s hair, which my sisters had learnt as a matter of course, but I’d never been able to use them.  It hadn’t been until I’d forged Objects of Power to comb my hair that it had become a little easier.  Those charms, at least, had lasted more than an hour or so.

“I can dress myself,” I argued, as they led me into the next room.  The guest bed was covered in bags from the most exclusive tailors and dressmakers in the city.  “You don’t have to do it for me.”

“We have our orders, My Lady.”  Ellen sounded regretful.  I felt a twinge of guilt.  Very few people defied my mother, certainly not twice.  “Please let us do our job.”

I closed my eyes and waited as they swarmed around me, putting the white dress over my shoulders and then making small adjustments to be sure it fit perfectly.  Hands brushed though my hair, emplacing a blue flower within my locks, a reminder to all who cared to see that I was betrothed.  I doubted there was anyone in attendance who didn’t know.  The family - both families - had spent the last six years telling everyone that the match would bring lasting peace.  They’d had to offer some kind of proof of their words.

“You look lovely, My Lady,” Ellen said.

I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror.  I almost didn’t recognise the girl - young woman - looking back.  My dark hair framed a rounded face and fell around my shoulders, the white dress flattered my figure without showing anything below the neckline.  They’d even put concealer on my hands, hiding the scars from a lifetime of forgery.  I doubted that would last more than a few hours, even though there was no magic involved.  It wasn’t as if Akin didn’t already know they were there.

“It feels strange, not to be wearing braids,” I said, to myself.  It felt as if I was naked.  “Does it get better?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Ellen said.  She’d worn her hair down for years.  “It does.”

Janet cleared her throat.  “My Lady, do you have the necklace?”

I nodded as I opened a drawer and pulled out a small box.  The necklace looked crude to my eyes - a tiny wire cage encompassing nothing - but it started to glow the moment I prodded it with my finger.  A magician would see a pulsing light hanging just above my breasts.  I wondered how many of them would understand they were looking at an Object of Power, a reminder of my talents and my value to the family.  The light grew brighter as I snapped the necklace into place, then faded slightly.  Alana and Bella would be wearing charmed gemstones.  They’d look better than mine - they’d spent months practicing the art of inserting spells into gemstones - but they wouldn’t be anything like as unique.  There was no shortage of people who could enchant gemstones to show off their skills.

But they’ve both chosen complex spells, I reminded myself.  And neither of them dared ask anyone for help.

“Very good, My Lady,” Ellen said.  She glanced at the clock.  It was closer to eight than I’d thought.  “Are you ready?”

I hesitated, then nodded.  It felt as if I was going to meet my fate.  I’d attended several coming-out balls over the last few months, but I hadn’t been the guest of honour.  Now ... if I put a foot wrong, the Grande Dames would still be talking about it when my grandchildren had coming-out balls of their own.  I supposed that explained Mum’s bad mood.  She knew better than I did that a mistake, here and now, would haunt us for the rest of our lives.

Ellen opened the door, then led me down the corridor.  I felt my heart starting to pound as we moved down two flights of stairs and stepped into the antechamber.  My sisters were already there, wearing the same white dresses and white flowers in their hair.  I had to admit they wore their dresses better than I did.  They’d spent their time attending social engagements and learning the ropes, while I’d stayed in the Workshop.

The maid left us alone.  I looked around.  The room was bland.  There was nothing to eat or drink, nothing save for a clock.  It ticked, loudly.  I cursed the sadist who’d designed it under my breath.  The sound was getting to me.  If I’d had my tools, I could have fixed it.  

“I thought you were going to be late,” Alana said.  She sounded worried, not teasing.  “Mum and Dad are already downstairs.”

“Mum wouldn’t let me be late,” I said.  Alana and I weren’t exactly close, but I knew what she was thinking.  She was going to lead the family, when Dad retired or passed on.  If she messed up now, it would be a disaster.  “Don’t worry about it.”

The bell rang.  It was time.

Alana held out a hand.  “Come on,” she said, as the door opened.  Bella stepped up on my other side.  “Let’s go.”

My stomach churned.  I wanted to run back to my room and hide.

Instead, I took her hand.

Chapter Two

The ballroom glowed with light.

It was all I could do not to squint.  I would have stumbled back if Alana and Bella hadn’t been holding my hand.  The light was so bright that it was hard to pick out any real detail as we inched down the stairs.  I kicked myself, mentally, for not having devised something to block the light ahead of time.  The other two could use magic, but not me.  Silence fell, like a thunderclap, as we stepped into view.  It was hard to believe it hadn’t been rehearsed.

The Herald’s voice - magically-enhanced - rang through the air.  “The Ladies Alana, Belladonna and Caitlyn Aguirre!”

I forced myself to walk down the stairs, arm in arm with my sisters.  The blaze of light seemed to condense into dozens of glowing balls of light, hovering near the ceiling.  Threads of magic ran through the air, a display of my family’s power if not our taste.  I kept going, somehow, but the walk seemed interminably slow.  Three young men - Akin at the rear - stood at the bottom, waiting.  I tried not to show my apprehension as we reached the bottom of the stairs and waited.  The first dance had to be perfect.  It would be easier for me.  I knew Akin.  Alana and Bella wouldn’t have known who’d be partnering with them until shortly before the ceremony.

In other families, they might not have known until now, I reflected.  There were plenty of romantic - and horror - stories about girls who didn’t meet their partners until it was too late to object.  But Dad wouldn’t have done it to them.

I tried to smile - it felt unnatural - as Akin held out a hand.  He looked strikingly handsome in a black suit, white shirt and black tie that reminded me of the Jude’s uniform, but I could tell he was nervous.  We were now both adults.  There would be no mercy if we messed up in front of the entire city.  His eyes lingered on the Object of Power as I took his hand, allowing him to pull me towards him.  Alana walked past, leading her partner onto the dance floor as the band struck up a formal march.  I hid my amusement with an effort.  There would be no doubt who’d be wearing the pants in that family.

Sweat prickled down my back as we glided onto the floor, to be surrounded by a cavalcade of friends, relatives, clients, hangers-on and genteel enemies.  Mum and Dad had invited everyone - or at least everyone who mattered - even if they were feuding with us.  I spotted a handful of faces I knew, mingled with a crowd of strangers.  Alana could have put a name to each and every one of the faces, without the aid of a secretary.  I’d never bothered to keep up with who was In and who was Out.  It simply wasn’t important.

Akin’s arm went around my waist as the music changed.  I wanted to relax, to pretend it was just another dance, but I couldn’t.  I saw regret in his eyes - and a certain wistfulness - as we picked up the steps, a grim reminder that our plans for a long honeymoon had been disrupted beyond repair due to his father’s early death.  It was frustrating, but there was nothing we could do about it.  And yet ...

I winced, inwardly.  I’d been looking forward to leaving the city, if only for a handful of weeks.  Shallot was wonderful, but the city was starting to feel cramped.  Dad had made it clear that I was a target - I’d already been kidnapped once, years ago - and that it wasn’t safe for me to go outside the city, even surrounded by a small army.  I hadn’t even been able to visit the country estates.  I understood his point - the people who’d tried to kidnap Callam had learnt from my experience, although they’d underestimated him - but I wanted to leave the city and go travelling.  I’d spent a great deal of time devising Objects of Power that would keep me safe.  And yet, Dad had the final say.

Not any longer, I thought.  The ballroom was huge, easily large enough for hundreds of guests, but it felt as if the walls were closing in.  I’m an adult now.

The music came to an end.  Akin took my hand and led me towards the wall.  He’d always been sensitive to my moods.  Alana and Bella would stay on the dance floor for hours, constantly finding new partners to ensure they showed no particular favour to any one family.  Mum and Dad stood at the head of the room, Mum talking to the other Grande Dames while Dad spoke to the Patriarchs and Matriarchs.  I had a feeling he was discussing marriage alliances for my sisters.  I felt a flicker of sympathy for the poor boys.  There weren’t many young men of equal status to Bella, let alone Alana.  Akin was perhaps the only one, and he was already betrothed to me.  A thrill - and a flicker of fear - shot through me.  The countdown to our wedding day had begun.

“You look lovely,” Akin said, his lips close to my ears.  A courtesy.  He would have cast a privacy ward to keep from being overheard, something I couldn’t sense.  “How are you feeling?”

“Strange.”  I tried not to giggle at the sight of several young women inching towards us, pretending they were with us.  If they couldn’t fool me, they couldn’t fool anyone.  “I feel ...”

I wasn’t sure how I felt.  I hadn’t felt so ... discomfited in a while, not since ... since ever.  I couldn’t put my finger on it ... no, that wasn’t quite true.  I wanted to marry him and stay with him and at the same time I wanted to go travelling, which I couldn’t do with him.  Had his father lived, it would’ve been so easy to take him on holiday for a few days, but now that he was the Patriarch, that couldn’t happen. Who knew what crisis would explode while we were gone?  And Akin didn’t have many people he could trust.  He’d spent the last fortnight trying to get to grips with his family’s affairs and, by his own admission, he’d barely scratched the surface.

Alana would probably be more helpful, I thought, sourly.  But his family would revolt if he brought Alana anywhere near the secret files.

I briefly considered sneaking out, taking Akin into the garden or through the hidden passageways to my chambers, but I knew it was impossible.  Mum and Dad would be furious if we left in the first hour and I knew they’d notice.  Of course they’d notice.  I glanced towards Mum, who was having an achingly polite discussion with Lady Bracknell, and inwardly groaned.  She wouldn’t fail to notice if we left ahead of time.  And she’d throw a fit if she - or High Society - thought we’d been alone together.  

The crowd flowed around us as we made our way through the ballroom.  Lucy Lamplighter - looking strikingly pretty, despite being in a dress that had been out of fashion for decades - smiled briefly at me as she swept around the dance floor.  Her partner nodded politely.  He was a commoner, if I recalled correctly.  I doubted he’d have an easy time of it, if their engagement came to fruition.  But then, House Lamplighter was scrupulously neutral.  High Society valued it enough - I hoped - not to make things needlessly hard for its young matriarch.

Akin steered me towards the seating area, where a number of tables had been positioned for the wallflowers.  I tensed, just slightly, as I spotted Isabella Rubén sitting next to Callam, her blonde hair shining in the light.  It was hard not to feel nervous, even though our feud had been buried years ago.  The green dress she wore flattered her figure without showing anything below the neckline.  I was slightly disappointed she wasn’t wearing trousers.  She’d been the first upper-class woman in living memory to wear actual trousers to a ball.  I knew a handful of girls had followed in her footsteps.

I felt an odd flicker of something as I glanced at Callam.  He would never be described as handsome, although there was something rugged about his face that was appealing.  His brown hair was cropped close to his scalp, but his face gave the unmistakable impression of being unshaven even though he’d obviously gone over it with a razor.  His hands were scarred like mine, although less so.  He’d only been forging for six years, barely long enough to pick up the basics.  His outfit was fashionable, but he wore it without grace.  I couldn’t help finding him admirable.  The Grande Dames had to be having fits at the thought of a country bumpkin marrying into the oldest aristocratic family in the known world, but that clearly didn’t matter to him.

Callam smiled at me.  “Are you having a good time?”

“I’ll be happy when it’s over,” I said.  My sisters were still dancing, moving from partner to partner.  “There’s just too much pressure.”

Isabella gave me a wintry smile as we sat.  I recalled that she’d been given her majority years ago, when she’d gone into exile.  She would never have a proper season of her own, not even with her crimes officially forgiven and her brother in control of the family.  It would be a farce now, I supposed, although the mischievous side of me wanted to see how many Grande Dames would humble themselves before House Rubén.  They’d certainly been quick to welcome Isabella back, when it looked as though she’d be the next Heir Primus.  I hadn’t seen anyone reverse course so quickly since the captain of a clipper ship realised he was heading straight for the rocks outside the harbour.

“It has its moments,” Isabella said, finally.  “I never had the chance to formally thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.  I hadn’t done it for her.  I’d done it for Akin.  “Are you still planning to head back to Kirkhaven?”

“Yes,” Isabella said.  Beside her, Callam looked relieved.  “Once we have the new protections in place ...”

I nodded, curtly.  I’d adapted some of my own protections to cover Kirkhaven Hall and the surrounding estate.  Once the Objects of Power were installed, and I’d gone through the process with Callam, they should be relatively safe.  I had my doubts - I knew from grim experience that Zeros were very far from invincible - but Callam and Isabella intended to go home soon.  They just didn’t fit in.  I felt a stab of envy.  It wasn’t fair.  They could go travelling, and explore the world, while I was stuck in the city.

“We’ll stay in touch,” Akin said.  “You don’t have to be alone up there.”

“We’re not really alone,” Isabella assured him.  “And we’ll be fine.”

I kept my thoughts to myself.  Isabella wasn’t particularly welcome in Shallot.  Really, she’d been very unwelcome right up until it looked as if she was going to inherit.  Akin was probably the only person who’d actually miss her, when she was gone.  Her family wouldn’t forget her crimes, even if they’d been officially scrubbed from the record.  The rest of the city would be happier when they could go back to pretending she didn’t exist.

“I’ll send you some of my notes,” I said, to Callam.  I didn’t miss the way Isabella leaned closer to him, as I spoke.  “If you keep practicing, you’ll catch up soon.”

Callam shrugged.  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  I’d always assumed that anyone born with my talent - or lack of a talent - would share my fascination with forging and unlocking the long-lost secrets of the Thousand-Year Empire.  I’d designed and built the workshop on the theory that, eventually, there would be dozens - perhaps hundreds - of us, researching the lost magics and combining older and new techniques to produce something new.  It had been a surprise, I admitted to myself, when Callam hadn’t been interested in anything beyond the basics.  He was skilled, but he lacked my talent for forging and my determination to make something of myself.  I found it hard to understand.  He could have made himself one of the most powerful people in the world.

Some people don’t want to be powerful, I reminded myself.  And some people don’t want to become pawns in other people’s games.

A servant walked over and offered drinks.  I resisted the urge to try the sparkling wine - Mum and Dad had warned me not to even think of touching alcohol tonight - and took a glass of fruit juice instead.  The ballroom was becoming warmer, almost uncomfortably so.  I glanced at the doors and frowned as I noticed they were wide open, allowing the younger dancers to slip outside.  The air should have been cooling rapidly, now darkness was falling.  Perhaps there were just too many warm bodies in here.  I doubted I was the only one feeling as if I was going to overheat.

I sat back and forced myself to watch, putting a handful of names to faces.  Lucy Lamplighter was hard at work brokering a meeting between two minor lords who would normally refuse to even look at each other without throwing curses.  I had to admire her nerve, although it wasn’t as brave as it looked.  No one in their right mind would start a fight here, in the seat of my family’s power.  Lucy - of course - knew it.  She’d probably planned the meeting in the certain knowledge neither party would lose face by not starting a fight.  Behind her, I saw a couple of ladies with not-so-well-hidden interests in dresses and dressmaking.  The deals they’d make tonight - if they were lucky - would make the difference between success and complete failure.

Isabella cleared her throat.  “Do your sisters have prospective husbands yet?”

“No.”  I shook my head.  “Dad’s not in any real hurry to arrange something for them.”

Akin shot his sister a sharp look.  I wondered, idly, just what Isabella thought of me marrying into her family.  She could hardly be blind to the implications - she knew what Callam could do - and yet she didn’t like me very much.  I’d helped her save her family and yet it might not have been enough to overcome years of resentment.  I was surprised she hadn’t descended into bitterness, after being sent into exile.  But then, having to fight a warlock with ... interesting ... ideas about the proper use of magic did tend to focus the mind.  From what I’d heard, Isabella had come very close to being killed outright.

I changed the subject.  “How are you coming along with the rebuilding?”

“It’s ... strange,” Akin said.  “I was hoping you’d take a look at the wardstone.  It’s funny ...”

“Creepy, more like,” Isabella said.  “What did you do to it?”

I kept my face impassive with an effort.  There was one big secret I’d kept from everyone, save one.  I hadn’t even told Akin and I trusted him enough to let him slip ... well, I trusted him.  The Object of Power I’d loaned to Isabella - which she’d apparently broken - had damaged the wardstone beyond repair.  I was perhaps the only living person who knew why.

“I’ll take a look at it when I have a moment,” I assured them.  Perhaps I could delay it long enough for Isabella to leave town.  Or ... no, that wouldn’t be fair on Akin.  He might need to keep his sister around as a chaperone, just to keep rumours from starting.  Perhaps we should just run off and get married somewhere outside the city limits.  It wasn’t as if we needed a big wedding.  “But I think you might have to replace it completely.”

Akin smiled.  “Can I ask you to forge a replacement?”

“Of course.”  I took a petty pleasure in watching Isabella’s lips thin.  We had always brought out the worst in each other.  “But it may take some time.”

“It might be better to use something that can be repaired,” Isabella pointed out, stiltedly.  “If it breaks, what happens then?”

“Good question,” I agreed.  I’d tried to repair dozens of broken Objects of Power.  I could count my successes on the fingers of one hand.  “But as long as it was tied to the right bloodline, it should be very difficult to break it.”

“That’s what they thought about the last one,” Isabella said.  “I ...”

I looked up as the lights seemed to get brighter.  A faint hum ran through the chamber.  I saw dancers breaking off, looking around in confusion.  The air felt hot and muggy ... I took a breath, feeling another wave of wrongness.  Callam looked around, raising his clenched fists as if he expected to be attacked.  Beside him, Isabella reached for the spellcaster at her belt.  I hoped she wouldn’t draw it.  That would be a major scandal, even if it wasn’t taken as a sign to start something violent.

“Isabella?”  Callam sounded uneasy.  “What is happening?”

Akin glanced at me.  I didn’t know.  Time itself seemed to be slowing, as if reality was hanging on a knife edge.  Silence fell, music and chatter fading as everyone waited for the other penny to drop.  The lights seemed to glow brighter and brighter, forcing me to cover my eyes.  I heard Isabella muttering a shading spell behind me, a spell that should have covered us all.  The lights didn’t dim.  If anything, the lightglobes got brighter until they started to explode.  A wave of heat crashed down, followed by flickering darkness and light and ...

I heard a cracking sound, and looked up.  The ceiling had started to crack.  I saw more thread-like cracks spreading through the stone, tiny pieces of debris falling as the cracks spread further and further ...

... And then the entire ceiling came down.

Chapter Three

“Shield!”

I heard my father’s voice, somehow echoing through the room as I ducked down.  Akin stood, raising his spellcaster as he cast a combination of shielding and lifting charms.  Behind him, I was dimly aware of Isabella doing the same.  I saw lights flashing above and felt a tinge of the old envy as dozens of others added their magic to the effort, trying to keep the rubble from crashing onto our heads.  I could be rendered powerless simply by depriving me of my tools and protective amulets.  My sisters - and just about everyone else - had no such weakness.  They couldn’t be beaten so easily.

The light flared, brightly.  For an instant, I saw the different charms in a manner I hadn’t been able to see without the right equipment.  I saw dozens of spells interacting, the light glowing brighter and brighter as they clashed and ... the magic exploded, debris flying everywhere.  I screamed at Callam and the others to get under the table, quickly, as the shockwaves washed around the ballroom.  I had a brief glimpse of the portrait of Johan Aguirre - who’d led the family to Shallot, nearly a thousand years ago - slipping and falling off the wall, only to be picked off by a rogue whirlwind of magic and thrown across the room.  Callam landed beside me, Akin and Isabella joining us a second later.  People ran for the doors as panic set in, trying to flee before it was too late.

I cringed as the ground heaved, more debris crashing down.  The ballroom was slightly separate from the rest of the mansion - it had been the fashion, back then, for the ballroom to be treated as public property - but ... I tried not to think about what would happen if the entire mansion caved in.  We had hundreds of servants and staff and not all of them would be attending the ball.  If the entire mansion collapsed, they’d all die before they could save themselves.  I looked up, then closed my eyes as the remainder of the roof hit the ballroom floor.  The ground heaved beneath me.  I tasted blood and realised I’d bit my lip.

“Cat!”  Akin sounded panicked.  “Are you alright?”

I opened my eyes.  Akin was right in front of me, our faces practically touching.  I leaned forward and kissed him, just to make sure.  Isabella cleared her throat loudly, her face a mixture of stern disapproval and wistfulness.  I resisted the urge to suggest - none-too-kindly - that she’d probably gone just as far, if not further, with Callam.  They’d been completely alone, to all intents and purposes.  They could have had relations together and no one in Shallot would be any the wiser.

“Yeah.”  My dress was torn in delicate places.  I pulled it back into place and folded the material to keep it there.  My body felt as if I’d been beaten.  “Are you?”

Akin rubbed his forehead.  “Headache,” he said.  “A bad one.”

“Me, too.”  Isabella had a nosebleed.  I wasn’t sure why.  Her nose didn’t look broken, not like it had when I’d broken it six years ago.  “I ... ow.”

Callam wrapped an arm around her.  I gave her an arch look - no boy would touch a girl like that, not unless he was already used to touching her - and forced myself to stand.  My head cracked against the underside of the table.  Isabella was in a bad way, I noted.  Normally, she would have made fun of me for doing anything like that.  I inched to the side and stood up, but all I saw was a scene of total devastation.  The ballroom, so beautiful just a few, short hours ago, was now in ruins.  The walls remained, but the ceiling had crumbled and fallen.  

I swallowed, hard.  My sisters had been on the dance floor.  Where were they?

I stumbled forward, my mind spinning.  Isabella wasn’t the only person who was bleeding.  I saw men and women bleeding from their ears and noses, blood staining the floor.  Most were alive - a number had managed to get out before it was too late - but here and there I saw people lying still.  I picked my way onwards, trying to remember where Alana and Bella had been.  Behind me, Akin started to bark orders and organise the lucky ones into helping the remainder out of the ruins.  I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw Alana on the ground.  She bled from her nose, but was otherwise unhurt.

“Cat?”  Alana stared, her eyes wide.  It made her look disconcertingly young.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” My mind raced.  Could it have been an infernal device, a weapon keyed to release a surge of wild or chaotic magic?  It should have been impossible to sneak one through the wards, let alone detonate it, but...  “I ... I just don’t know.”

I helped Alana to her feet.  Her dress looked faded.  The spell crystal was dead, the crystal itself looking like a hunk of charcoal.  I glanced at it, watching as it threatened to crumble into dust.  I’d seen something like it before, but where?  I waited until she was standing, then searched for Bella.  It took me a moment to notice she’d made it outside, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the ruins.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I hadn’t wanted to lose either of my sisters.

“Ancients,” Alana said.  She turned and peered towards the mansion.  “What happened?”

I followed her gaze.  The mansion itself seemed undamaged, which meant ... what?  I’d never heard of an infernal device that was so ... localised.  I wasn’t even sure what had happened to the building.  It was as if the ceiling had cracked, broken and turned to dust.  The floor was covered in white dust, the remnants of the ceiling ... My thoughts continued to spin in circles as I saw my father emerge from the rubble.  His suit looked intact, but there was a nasty stain on his shoulder and his arm was hanging limp.  I didn’t see Mum anywhere.

“Alana, help the crowd,” Dad ordered, curtly.  “Cat, tell the armsmen to secure the walls.”

I nodded, although I was fairly sure the disaster wasn’t the start of an attack.  I’d lived through the last House War.  I knew how they went.  The enemy would already be storming the walls, if indeed there was an enemy.  I pushed my way through the crowd - between Akin and Dad, the able-bodied were getting organised and helping everyone else into the garden - and made my way down to the gatehouse.  It was eerie.  Inside the ballroom, total devastation; outside, unchanged.

“My Lady,” Captain Jacob said.  He was a distant cousin a few years older than me, too far from the core bloodline to make a bid for power on his own.  I’d had an embarrassing crush on him when I’d been too young to know better.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I said.  The streets beyond the gatehouse were empty.  The streetlights glowed brightly, as if nothing had happened.  I couldn’t see anything - anything at all - that might indicate the walls were about to be stormed.  “But Dad wants you to secure the walls.”

“Of course, My Lady.”  Jacob saluted, curtly.  “We’ll see to it at once.”

I nodded, then turned and hurried back up the driveway.  The ballroom looked as if a potions experiment had gone badly, but ... the mansion beyond was completely unscratched.  I could see lights in the windows, flickers of distortion where the wards were still firmly in place ... any explosion should have been contained well before it became a threat to life and limb.  I could have built something to crack the wards - I’d loaned wardcrackers to Isabella, when I’d helped her save Akin from his wretched uncle - but it would have been obvious what I’d done.  If someone had attacked us, they’d not bothered to follow up with an assault.  Why?

They just attacked the entire city, I thought, shocked.  The fruit of the aristocracy, everyone who was important - or simply thought they were - had been in attendance to watch us walk down the stairs, dance with our partners, and then take advantage of the gathering to network and make deals and everything else they couldn’t do openly without arousing some very astringent commentary.  If this was an attack, they just declared war on all of us.

I put the thought out of my head as I reached the gardens.  Callam was helping Akin carry the wounded out of the ballroom; they put a number of people on the grass.  Isabella sat on a bench, head in her hands.  She was certainly in no state for working magic.  I saw a handful of people casting spells to heal the wounded, but ... there should have been many more.  It looked as if nearly everyone had a headache, save for Callam and me.  I had the nasty feeling that was important.  

I just didn’t know why.

“I’ve sent Bella to get potions and medical supplies,” Dad said, before I could ask him where my other sister was.  “Help us get people onto the lawn.”

“Yes, Dad,” I said.  “Shouldn’t we be sending for help from outside?”

“I’ve sent a couple of messengers,” Dad said.  “But it might be a while before help arrives.”

I nodded, grimly.  North Shallot didn’t have a regular fire and emergency service, not like South Shallot.  There’d been no reason to think anything would happen to the Great Houses that they couldn’t handle themselves.  Besides, it would’ve been seen as a threat to their independence.  I cursed under my breath as I turned and hurried into the ruined ballroom.  That conceit had come back to bite us, hard.  It might be a good idea, in the future, to work out a way of pooling resources for tackling emergencies.

The night wore on.  I helped a handful of wounded people to walk out of the ruined ballroom, then dug through the wreckage to retrieve a pair of dead bodies.  They looked only a few years older than me, married ... but not to each other.  I did my best to separate them, just to keep their families from being shamed.  Nothing, not even a major disaster in the heart of the city, would keep the rumour-mongers from talking.  Besides, it wasn’t as if they’d been caught naked.  There was no way to know what had happened.

Callam caught my eye as I stepped out of the wreckage.  “Does this happen often?”

“... No,” I said.  “There was the House War, six years ago, and then there were the infernal devices a few short weeks ago ...”

“I’ll be glad when we get home,” Callam said.  “It’s a little bit safer.”

I hid my amusement as he hurried to help shift some pieces of debris.  I understood what Isabella saw in him - his talent was enough to grant him access to the very highest levels, if he wished - but it was harder to see what he saw in her.  Isabella was beautiful - and there was no way I’d ever tell her that - yet she was hardly the only beautiful girl in the world.  I could name a dozen debutantes who were prettier, nicer and almost as well-connected.  Hell, Isabella had been in disgrace for six years.  There had been no reason to assume that she’d ever be allowed home.

She grew up a little, I reminded myself, as I walked back to the aid station.  You don’t know what she went through up there.

Mum was working at a table, sorting out potions and doling them out to the needy.  Behind her, a handful of servants had set up a drinks’ stand and were handing out mugs of tea and hot chocolate to everyone else.  It felt strange, as if an air of unreality had descended upon the entire household.  I could see guests drifting away, now that the ruined ballroom had been searched and declared empty.  I didn’t blame them.  There was no point in trying to continue the ball, not now.  It had been ruined beyond repair.

“I’m sorry,” Mum said.  I wasn’t sure who she was apologising to.  Me, or the Ancients.  “It should have been your day.”

I found myself at a loss for words.  I’d never really wanted - or needed - a Season.  All I’d really needed to do was unpin my hair, once my parents were prepared to recognise me as an adult.  But Alana and Bella had wanted it ... I sighed, inwardly.  It was easy to believe they’d have trouble finding partners, after their Season had been ruined.  High Society would probably believe it to be bad luck.

Alana will inherit a House and Bella great wealth, I thought, cynically.  They could be as ugly as sin and they’ll still attract suitors.

“It doesn’t matter,” I assured her.  “We’ll be fine.”

Mum didn’t look convinced.  I understood.  She would be shamed, even though none of it had been her fault.  High Society was merciless.  She’d worked so hard to make the ceremony perfect, barking at us and driving the servants to the point of exhaustion, because she’d known there would be no second chance.  And now ... I almost wished she’d start snapping at us again.  The despondency running through her voice was worse.

“The mansion itself seems safe,” Dad said, coming up to join us.  “The ballroom wing was the only one affected by ... by whatever it was.  The wards past the ballroom weren’t even touched.”

“That’s impossible,” I said.  “They should have sounded the alarm, even if they weren’t breached.”

“I know.”  Dad’s expression darkened as he watched more and more of the guests flowing out of the gates.  “I have no explanation.  We’ll study the ruins in the morning.”

He glanced behind me.  “You go say goodbye to your betrothed.  Tell him we’ll set the date later.”

I nodded and turned away.  Akin, Isabella and Callam were waiting.  Isabella looked fragile and she leaned against Callam, her face so pale it was almost translucent.  I hoped she’d managed to get some painkiller potion before it had run out.  Mum kept a large stockpile of emergency supplies, including potions, but there were limits.  She’d never thought she’d be needing enough to dose hundreds of people.  In hindsight, that had clearly been a mistake, too.

“Cat,” Akin said.  I noticed he was artfully ignoring Isabella and Callam.  I hoped they appreciated it.  “Do you and your family want to come to the hall tonight?”

I had to smile, despite everything.  It wouldn’t be just the five of us.  It would be the hundreds of people resident in the mansion, from the highest-ranking family member to the lowest servant.  I was tempted - and I knew it wasn’t just a pro forma offer - yet ... I knew it was impossible.  Dad would never agree, even if the entire mansion had collapsed.  It wasn’t as if we were short of properties.  My family owned nearly a tenth of South Shallot.

“It would be nice, but the mansion is still safe,” I said.  I hoped that was true.  There was no reason to be sure the mansion was truly safe.  It would be a long time before I managed to sleep tonight.  “We should be fine.”

Akin bowed.  This close to my parents, he wouldn’t risk kissing me.  “Then we’ll see you when you come,” he said.  “Bring Rose.  I’m sure she’d appreciate the chance to visit.”

And you don’t want Isabella as our chaperone, I added silently.  Rose could be relied upon to look the other way, as long as we didn’t go too far.  Isabella might not be quite so accommodating.

“I’ll ask her,” I said.  I’d tried to invite her to the ball, but she’d declined.  I hadn’t taken offense.  It was never easy for a commoner to attend a debutante ball.  There were too many older men who thought the commoner should be grateful for their attentions - and wandering hands - and too drunk to realise that trying it here would end very badly.  “And Dad says we’ll haggle over the date later.”

Akin flushed.  I felt an odd little ... something.  Our betrothal had been my idea, six long years ago.  I hadn’t known what I was getting into, not then.  Mum had been astonishingly frank with us about some things, as we’d gotten older ... I understood, now, why both families had had their qualms about the arrangement.  We were going to - no, we had - boxed ourselves into a relationship well before we understood what it meant.  I liked him.  I loved him.  And yet, I couldn’t help feeling a bit confined.

“We’ll try and be back for the wedding,” Isabella said.  She dropped a rough curtsey.  Beside her, Callam bowed with a bit more grace.  “And we’ll see you around.”

She turned, still leaning on Callam, and headed towards the gate.  Akin hesitated, as if he wanted to say something he couldn’t say anywhere near my parents, then turned and followed them out.  I watched them go, then hurried back to my family.  The gardens were almost empty now.  The ruins seemed to shift, as if unseen figures were swept through the wreckage.  I saw a wall wobble, threatening to collapse.  The ruins gave me chills.  It was a very minor incident, in the grand scheme of things, and yet I couldn’t help a sense of foreboding.

It felt like the end of the world.

Chapter Four

“We were attacked,” Alana said.  She stood in the middle of the ballroom, hands resting on her hips.  “Whoever did this wanted to kill us!”

“If it was an attack,” Dad said, “they would have come over the walls and stormed the mansion while we were still trying to figure out what was going on.”

I winced, rubbing my forehead.  I hadn’t slept well and I’d been awoken, in what felt like bare seconds after I’d finally fallen asleep, by Alana.  She wanted to know what had happened yesterday, if not sooner, and she’d refused to let me get anything more than a cup of coffee for breakfast before dragging me down to the ballroom.  Dad and Alana had been arguing since then, going over the same points time and time again.  I glanced at her black hair, fluttering in the breeze, and sighed.  Alana was an adult now, too.  The days when Dad could tell her to just shut up, or to go to her room, were over.

The ballroom was little more than a shell of its former self.  Two of the walls had tumbled during the night, with the other two remaining intact but effectively useless.  I picked out scraps of torn dresses and shattered tools among the ruins, including a broken violin and a dented trumpet.  The bandsmen must have dropped them as they fled for their lives.  We’d have to pay for their damages, but right now that was the least of my worries.  I spotted a spellcaster nearby and marked it down for later attention, preferably by someone else.  Some of the more paranoid magicians protected their spellcasters and anyone who picked them up, let alone tried to use them, might find themselves in a dreadful state.  I ran my hand through my hair - it still felt weird to have it hanging around my shoulders, as if I was naked in public - as I studied the ruins.  It wasn’t clear what had happened.

I mentally replayed my memories from the previous night.  The room had grown warmer ... uncomfortably so.  That, right there, should have been impossible.  The ballroom had been charmed to maintain a steady temperature, neither too hot nor too cold.  Callam and I had been there ... had the charms failed because of us?  I didn’t think so.  The charms hadn’t been cast on either of us.  They should have been drawing power from the mansion’s wards, keeping them in place indefinitely.  It made no sense.

The lightglobes got brighter, then started to explode, I reminded myself.  That should have been impossible, too.  It wasn’t as if they’d been unstable from the start.  The servants knew how to cast them perfectly, then tie them to the ballroom’s wards.  And it was that explosion that brought the roof down.

“This was an attack on the entire city,” Alana insisted, mirroring my earlier thoughts.  “King Fatty?”

Dad scowled at her.  “Do not say that anywhere you might be overheard,” he snapped.  “The political situation is very delicate right now.  You do not want to make things worse.”

I did my best to tune them out as I studied the ruins.  I couldn’t craft wards personally - I had to forge Objects of Power to craft the wards for me - but I knew the theory.  Dad had drilled me in wardcrafting, as well as everything else, when he’d been trying to spark the magic I didn’t have.  The wards covering the ballroom had been deliberately disengaged from the remainder of the mansion, partly because it was a separate wing and partly because it was easier.  We had to invite everyone to our balls, even if they were our enemies.  Keeping the ballroom separate ensured they couldn’t accidentally get into the rest of the mansion.  And that meant ... what?

Alana kept arguing, demanding action ... action against who?  I rolled my eyes as I mentally traced the wardlines.  There’d been no Objects of Power holding the ward network together, not here.  The tiny wardstones - part of a network of Devices of Power - had been woven through the walls and ceilings.  I remembered the burnt-out crystal and frowned.  If the crystals within the roof had shattered, they might well have blown the roof off and sent  it crashing down on our heads.  And yet ... I remembered the desperate attempt to shield the guests.  It should have worked.  

It hadn’t.

“We will not retaliate because there is no one to retaliate against,” Dad pointed out.  “Or do you think you have a suspect?”

I glanced at Alana, who looked irked.  There were no suspects, save perhaps the king and the socialists.  House Bolingbroke didn’t like us - and I’d heard that their young master was attempting to form an alliance against us - but they weren’t crazy enough to risk killing themselves as well as us.  I couldn’t think of any of the aristocratic families who hadn’t been represented at the ball.  Someone like Great Aunt Stregheria might have tried something in such a public place – after all, she’d planned to kidnap me and kill the rest of my family - but she’d been a rarity.  Akin’s uncle hadn’t tried to kill him until it became clear the uncle’s plan had failed. 

The king wouldn’t want to unite the families against him, I thought, and the socialists don’t have the expertise to attack the wards directly.

“There could be a third Zero out there,” Alana snapped.  “If they attacked the wards ...”

“The damage would be a great deal more extensive,” I said.  “And it wouldn’t be quite so localised.”

Alana snorted.  I turned away, mentally tracing the lines as they ran through the floor and up the stairs.  They looked both decayed and faded, as if they’d been abandoned to the elements for years.  A number of steps had vanished, something that puzzled me until I remembered they’d been held together with magic.  The steps had been designed to look like something out of a fairy tale.  In hindsight, it might have been better to make them solid and worry about appearances later.

I went closer, until I stood at the bottom of the steps.  They looked like ice.  I touched one.  It crumbled beneath my fingers.  Below, underneath the cracked surface, there was a pattern of burnt-out wiring.  I frowned and leaned in.  I’d seen something like it before, but where?  It looked as if the entire ward network had overheated and caught fire, which meant ...?

Dad cleared his throat.  “What have you found?”

“The ward network overheated,” I said.  It hadn’t been immediately obvious.  The ward network in the ceiling was nothing more than dust.  I dreaded to think what we might be inhaling.  “I think that’s what brought down the ceiling.”

“And that was how the attack was carried out?”  Alana walked up behind me.  “What did they do?”

“I don’t think it was an attack,” I said, slowly.  The pattern was becoming clear.  The overheating had taken place inside the ward network.  “It feels more like a design failure.”

“Really?”  Alana crossed her arms under her breasts.  “And a failure that took place on the one day of the year all of us are gathered in the same place?”

Dad gave her a sharp look.  “Wait,” he said.  “Cat, what do you mean?”

“The damage appeared first inside the network,” I said.  “If it was an attack, it was a very strange one.  Like” - I struggled to think of a good analogy - “like someone had stabbed you in the heart, without driving the knife through your skin first.”

“There are spells that can do that,” Alana pointed out.  “Maybe someone brought a weapon into the wards and detonated it inside ...”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but the wards would have picked up anything like that.”

I stared down at the ashy remains of the network.  I’d seen something like it before ... where?  I kicked myself, mentally, as I realised.  It looked like a ruined Object of Power.  I should have realised what it was, sooner.  I’d seen too many burnt-out threadlines over the last six years to feel otherwise.  The spellform had been warped, the network had suffered a major power surge, it had been unable to cope and ...

Disaster, I thought.  The vibrating spellform shattered every other spellform within the chamber.

“Something warped the network,” I told them, and outlined my thinking.  “And the power surge tore the ballroom apart.”

“A freak accident,” Alana scoffed.  “Someone made it happen.”

“How?”  Dad met her eyes evenly, showing a great deal more patience than I would have.  “If someone did it, how?”

Alana’s face twisted into a scowl.  I thought I knew what she was thinking.  She was an adult, yet she felt like a child.  Or as if she was being treated as a child.  She was going to spend years training to lead the family ... it would be a very long time before she had any real power, and it could only come when Dad retired or died.  I wondered, absently, if Alana and Dad had discussed his possible retirement.  It was difficult to believe he’d stand down in less than a decade.

“There are very few days throughout the year when one can easily predict we’ll all be in one place,” Alana said, with heavy formality.  “Yesterday was one of them.  The ball - our ball - would have been a very tempting target, for anyone who wanted to take us all out in a single flash.  Just because we don’t know how the attack was carried out doesn’t mean it wasn’t a deliberate attack.”

“No.”  Dad nodded, curtly.  “But just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.”

He looked at me.  “Cat?  What do you think?”

I said nothing for a long moment.  I’d spent most of my life studying magic, including fields generally forbidden.  I knew more about magical theory than almost anyone else my age.  And yet, I couldn’t imagine anything capable of causing a localised power surge.  It didn’t mean it was impossible, but ... the more I looked at the damage, the more I thought it was nothing more than a freak accident.  Anyone capable of causing the power surge could have made a much bigger bang for far less effort.

And yet, Alana had a point.  The coincidence was just too great.

“I think that anyone capable of doing this would have been capable of doing a great deal more,” I said, finally.  “They could have killed just about everyone in the ballroom with much less effort.”

“Unless they meant to scare us,” Alana snarled.  “And they have!”

“They’ve also alerted us to their existence,” I countered.  My stomach rumbled, loudly.  “It seems a waste, somehow.”

Dad let out a heavy sigh.  “The wardcrafters will be here shortly,” he said.  “I’ll tell them what you said, see what they make of it.  And we’ll tighten the defences around the rest of the mansion.  It will cause no end of inconvenience, but it will be worth it if it prevents a second disaster.”

“We should probably go over the rest of the ward network,” I said.  “If it was a freak accident, it could happen again anyway.”

“After breakfast,” Dad said.  “Good work, both of you.  Go get some breakfast.  Alana, report to my study at twelve.”

Alana started to curtsey, then stopped herself and nodded.  I hid my amusement behind my hand.  Alana had been attending Magus Court with Dad for the past two years, serving as his assistant and secretary while she learnt the ropes.  She’d clearly learnt her manners well ... I saw her scowl at me and turned away, exposing my back.  I could feel her glaring, but she did nothing.  The days when she’d been able to hex me at will were long gone.  She would not only land herself in hot water, but wind up looking stupid, too.

And she’d sooner get a whipping than look stupid in front of Dad, I thought.  That would put her back several years, in his eyes.

I walked through the door, out onto the grounds and made my way around to the side entrance.  Dad had sealed off the wing closest to the ballroom, believing that it would be risky to leave it open until the wardcrafters had checked everything with a fine-toothed comb. I didn’t envy them.  The mansions wards had been laid before the Fall and then updated constantly, layer upon layer of wards until no one - not even the wardmaster - truly knew how far they stretched.  Dad had seriously considered dismantling them, then laying a new wardstone - forged by me - and using it as the base for newer and better wards.  The only thing keeping him from doing it was the sheer time it would take to dismantle the wards without bringing down the rest of the mansion.

Alana joined me as I made my way up to our dining room.  Technically, we probably shouldn’t still be using it - we weren’t children any longer - but I doubted anyone would care.  Not now.  I rang the bell for a maid, then ordered a proper brunch and tea.  Alana added a request of her own, then sat at the table and waited.  I did my best to ignore her stare.  She and I had been getting along better, since I’d discovered my talent, but she’d given me six years of hell beforehand.  It would be a long time before I trusted her completely.

“The newspapers aren’t being kind,” Alana said.  “Our coming-out was a complete disaster.”

“And that is one hell of an understatement,” I said.  “Five deaths - and we were lucky it wasn’t more.  Seventy injuries, a number made worse by the lack of immediate medical attention.  And we ...”

“And we look weak,” Alana said.  “The attack was designed to embarrass us.”

“You don’t know we were attacked,” I said.  “Anyone who could do that wouldn’t throw away the advantage of surprise, just to embarrass us.”

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you,” Alana said, echoing Dad’s earlier words.  “Are you sure Isabella didn’t sneak something into the hall?”

I grimaced.  It was hard to believe Isabella would go against her brother so openly - she’d had every opportunity to take his place, only a month ago, and let it go - but she was a prime suspect.  Callam could have forged her an Object of Power, something capable of sneaking something else through the wards ... it didn’t seem likely.  He just wasn’t that advanced as a forger.  And besides, Isabella could have kept his existence a complete secret if she’d had real ambitions of her own.  I didn’t like her and I doubted I ever would, but she wasn’t a monster.

“Yes,” I said, finally.  “What would she stand to gain that she couldn’t have gotten earlier without anything like so much risk to herself?”

Alana said nothing as the maid returned, levitating two floating trays of food.  I smiled as she put them on the table, then left as silently as she’d come.  The scrambled eggs smelt heavenly, but I drank the tea first.  Alana chewed her sandwiches thoughtfully, her eyes far away.  I didn’t want to know what she was thinking.

“You had a number of dances,” I said, finally.  “Did you meet anyone you liked?”

“I ...”  Alana swallowed her food, then took a sip of her tea.  “They were good dancers, but ... I don’t know who’ll be encouraged to court me.”

I felt a flicker of sympathy.  Akin and I had built our relationship over time.  There would be few surprises, when we started married life together, but ...it was better that way.  Mum and Dad had barely known each other when they’d married, as their parents had arranged the match.  They presented a united front in public - I’d never heard them disagree about anything - but she’d admitted, when she’d talked about adult matters, that they’d fought quite a bit when they were younger.  Alana would have very little choice in who she married.  If she was lucky, Mum and Dad would give her a list of suitable boys.  If she wasn’t ...

Dad had the same problem, I reminded myself.  The old joke ran through my head.  But he married Mum!

“There aren’t many people who’d be your equal, socially speaking,” I said, after a long thoughtful moment.  “You’d need someone willing to support you at all times ...”

“So it’s hopeless, then,” Alana said.  She looked downcast, just for a second.  “I suppose I could look for a talented commoner.  Adam Mortimer is extremely powerful and capable and quite handsome, too ...”

I smiled.  “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“There must be more people like him out there,” Alana said.  “There has to be someone.”

“Yeah.”  I remembered my own marriage negotiations and scowled.  “You want a word of advice?”

“Go on.”  Alana eyed me warily.  “What words of wisdom can you offer me?”

“Two things,” I said.  “First, you’re marrying a person.  He isn’t a pet.  He isn’t an object.  And you can’t get rid of him by turning him into something and throwing him out the window.  He’ll be just as scared as you, so ... you can learn to work together and come to an understanding even if you don’t like each other.”

“Very wise,” Alana said, deadpan.  “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“I got to know Akin before we were betrothed,” I pointed out.  “I saw him - see him - as a person in his own right.  And you need to do the same.”

Alana shrugged.  “And the second word of timeless wisdom?”

“Talk to Mum and Dad now, before they take your agreement for granted and start making the arrangements,” I said.  I finished my breakfast and stood.  “You’ll find it saves a lot of trouble in the long run.”

Chapter Five

I had hoped I’d be able to go back to the Workshop and continue my investigation into the mysterious Object of Power, or perhaps continue to forge protections for Isabella and Callam, but the wardcrafters called me back to the ballroom after I finished breakfast.  I collected my equipment from the workshop and went through the ruins piece by piece with them, finding nothing beyond what I’d already discovered.  The ward network had suffered a power surge that had triggered a cascade failure reaction.  It looked like a freak accident.  

And yet, I understood Alana’s fears.  If someone had done it deliberately, what else could they do?

The damage puzzled me as I inspected the gathered remains, then left them for the wardcrafters to sort out and melt down for later reuse.  It was very much like looking at a broken Object of Power, but there was no way a Device of Power should have suffered a similar fate.  The spellforms were very different.  There was certainly no singular spellform that made the difference between an active and broken magical artefact.  The more I looked at it, the more it bothered me.  The whole affair just made no sense.

“Lady Cat.”  I turned to see the butler picking his way through the ruins.  “Lady Rose has arrived.  She wishes to see you.”

I smiled.  “I’ll see her in my rooms,” I said, suddenly aware of just how grimy my dress had become.  Mum would scold me if she heard I’d greeted someone like that, even a good friend like Rose.  “And please ask the maids to bring us tea.”

The butler bowed and withdrew.  I took one last look at the ruined ballroom, the wardcrafters sifting through the remains and carefully piling up anything that might need to be returned to its owner by the door, then turned and walked back to the mansion.  Rose didn’t need to go through the Butler, as far as I was concerned, but we were still on high alert.  The armsmen would probably have sent vapour messages to Dad, just to make sure Rose was allowed to visit, before they let her through the gates.  It wasn’t personal.  I hoped she hadn’t taken it poorly.

My legs felt weak as I made my way upstairs.  The mansion should have been humming with life, with relatives from all over catching up on gossip while they pressed their interests, but half the guests had already decamped to safer harbours.  Mum wasn’t going to be pleased about that.  The relatives were making it clear they didn’t trust us to keep them safe.  I supposed they had a point.  We still didn’t know what had caused the disaster.  As long as the cause was uncertain, there was no way to ensure it didn’t happen again.

The mansion is a great deal more solid than the ballroom, I reminded myself.  If something happens to the wards, it won’t bring the building down.

Rose stood as I stepped into the room and gave me a wan smile.  She looked stunning in a long blue dress that marked her as a medical student in training.  Her red hair hung down in ringlets, crowning a perfect face.  I knew for a fact that a number of lesser family members had urged my parents to arrange a match, pointing out that - as our client - we had a say in who she married.  Dad hadn’t taken it calmly.  He’d told them to court her openly, or forget it.

“Cat.”  Rose gave me a quick hug.  “Are you alright?”

I relaxed, slightly.  Rose was my closest friend, the only person - save for Akin - I’d kept in touch with after leaving Jude’s.  She hadn’t seen me as a freak, or as a haughty aristocrat ... she’d just seen me as a person.  It was a shame, I reflected, that there would be people who insisted she’d shunned us by not attending the ball.  I didn’t care, myself.  A medical student was on call at all times.

“It was an interesting night,” I said, with wry understatement.  “What have you heard?”

“Well, one person claimed the entire mansion exploded into a fireball,” Rose told me.  She waved a hand at the walls.  “Clearly, that didn’t happen.  Another insisted the honoured dead rose from their graves and danced with the living, for one night only.  I take it that story isn’t true either?”

I shook my head.  Traditionally, the family’s ancestors were cremated and their ashes scattered in the crypt below the mansion.  It was part of a rite to keep their magic with us, I’d been told, although my own investigations suggested it was little more than primitive superstition.  It wasn’t something I could discuss.  There were too many people who believed that anything involving human body parts was automatically dark and therefore forbidden.

“The wards suffered a power surge,” I said, slowly.  “And the entire ballroom collapsed into a pile of rubble.”

“Curious,” Rose said.  “Did you hear about the Eton Forgery?”

I shook my head.  I’d heard of the Eton Forgery - it belonged to House Bolingbroke - but I’d never actually visited.  My family had quite enough factories of our own, churning out the components for artificers to craft Devices of Power.  There was no reason to think the Eton Forgery was anything special, unless they’d found a third Zero ...

“There was some kind of accident there,” Rose said.  “They weren’t sure what caused it, but seventy men were killed or injured when the workshops exploded.”

“Exploded?”  I shook my head.  “Workshops don’t explode.”

“That was the word they used,” Rose said.  She shook her head.  “The wounds were inconsistent.  Some of the victims were badly burnt, which suggests a potion explosion; some had pieces of worked metal embedded in their flesh.  We never got a clear explanation of precisely what happened.”

I frowned, considering the issue.  Forgeries rarely experimented.  Forgers who wanted to experiment were told to do it a safe distance from everyone else, just in case they accidentally triggered an explosion.  House Bolingbroke had its own collection of experimental labs, like us, but most of them were located outside the city.  Eton Forgery was deep within South Shallot.  No one in their right mind would carry out dangerous experiments there.  And yet, it was also hard to imagine an accident that caused an explosion using any of their normal practices.  Anyone trained to work there would know damn well what not to do.

“Sabotage?”  It wasn’t impossible.  The Great Houses had their enemies.  “Or ... or what?”

“They don’t know,” Rose said.  “Or so I’ve heard.”

I nodded as the maid entered, carrying a tray of tea and a sealed letter.  I took the latter and opened it.  Akin had sent me a formal invitation to House Rubén.  I wondered, absently, why he’d sent a letter, instead of a simple note.  We were adults now, both of us.  My parents no longer had the right to open my mail.  I supposed it made a degree of sense.  As long as we were unmarried, we had to avoid scandal.

“My Lady,” the maid said.  She was a shy girl, barely entering her teens.  “Her Ladyship requests the pleasure of your company before you leave.”

And that means Mum already knows what the letter says, I thought, crossly.  Did she read the letter herself or did she simply guess?

I put the thought aside as I folded the paper and stowed it in my pocket.  “Please inform Her Ladyship that I will call upon her shortly,” I said.  I hoped Mum didn’t want to accompany me.  She wouldn’t let us get away with anything.  “We’ll put the tray outside when we’re done.”

The maid curtseyed and withdrew.  I shook my head in tired amusement.  “Can I rely on you to accompany me to House Rubén?”

Rose nodded.  “If you want,” she said.  “Unless the hospital calls me back, of course ...”

“Of course,” I agreed.  I wouldn’t stand in her way if she was called back to duty.  It wasn’t likely - she was only a student, even though she had studied hard over the last six years - but it was possible.  “How are things there?”

“Well enough,” Rose said.  “Not enough sleep, not enough hours of the day to do everything ... other than that, everything’s fine.  I spent half of yesterday, before the disasters, learning how to mend bones with magic, then listening to a lecture on mental health care.  A couple of doctors think you can use slave collars to keep mentally ill patients from hurting themselves or others.”

I shuddered.  I hated compulsion spells.  I could see the awful logic of it - it was possible to bar someone from doing something - but it would place dreadful strains on their mind.  It might just make things worse.  I’d heard of one man who’d killed himself after being compelled not to do something.  I doubted the healers had addressed the real cause of his problems.  They’d just sought the quick and easy answer.

“And I got a letter from home,” she added.  “My sister is getting married.”

“That’s nice,” I said, automatically.  “Are you going to attend?”

“If I can,” Rose said.  “But it depends ...”

I saw the doubt in her eyes and winced.  Rose was caught between two worlds.  Common-born, but educated amongst the aristocracy ... hell, given that she was a close friend of both Akin and myself, she was as close to being an aristocrat as possible without actually being aristocracy.  What did she have in common with her family?  What did she have in common with us?  She was too aristocratic for the commoners and too common for the aristocrats, even the ones who thought she should marry into the family.  I promised myself I’d do whatever I could to make it easier for her, although I had no idea what that could be.  Rose deserved so much better.

“And I keep getting proposals from people I don’t know,” Rose said.  “Is there no way to tell them to get lost?”

“You’re not obliged to respond,” I pointed out.  “If you’re not interested, just ignore them.”

“I try,” Rose said.  “But they keep pestering me.”

“Alana gets hundreds of proposals a day,” I said.  “I think she throws them into the fire.”

Rose smiled as we sipped our tea.  It wasn’t really funny.  Her connections - and magic - made her desirable, but most of her suitors didn’t know her.  They were actually worse than the ones courting Alana, although they seemed to be under the impression they needed to win over Dad rather than Alana herself.  Rose’s suitors seemed to assume she’d be grateful to marry into the aristocracy, as if she’d overlook their flaws because of their rank.  I felt a stab of pity, mingled with anger.  Rose was worth far more than her magic and connections.  She really deserved better.

“I’d better go see what Mum wants,” I said, finally.  It was nearly noon.  “You’ll wait here?”

“I have papers to read and sign,” Rose said.  She opened her bag.  “I think that’ll keep me busy for the next ... few ... hours.”

I laughed, then stood, washed my hands and headed for the door.  Rose was about the only person I trusted in my rooms ... it struck me, suddenly, that Akin and I would soon be sharing a room.  The thought brought me up short.  I knew the facts of life - my mother’s lessons had been devastatingly frank, to the point of scaring me and my sisters - but it was hard to imagine doing it for real.  And yet ... I wanted it and didn’t want it and wasn’t sure what I wanted.  It was a mess.

The thought nagged at me as I made my way through the corridors to my mother’s suite.  It was the largest in the mansion, as befitted a potions mistress who also happened to be the lady of the house.  The doorknocker came to life as I approached, beady eyes glowering murderously in my direction before falling still.  Mum had probably had a bunch of unwelcome guests, I decided as I pressed my hand against the knocker.  She didn’t normally keep her rooms under such tight security.  Everyone who lived in the mansion knew better than to enter without permission.

I braced myself as the door opened, revealing my mother’s visiting room.  It was perfectly elegant, with everything placed precisely as she desired.  A large portrait of the immediate family hung over the mantelpiece, everyone - myself included - looking so formal and elegant that I knew the artist had been paid to make us look good.  Mum sat in an armchair, looking tired and worn.  She stood to greet me, then waved regally to a second chair.  I sat, watching her nervously.  She looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink.

“Mum,” I said.  “You wanted to see me?”

Mum studied me for a long moment.  My mother had always been a beauty, even after three children.  Long dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes ... she could have been in rags and she’d still be the very picture of elegance.  She looked like a society beauty ... and yet I knew she was far more than just a pretty face.  Mum was a potions mistress, one of the best in the city.  I’d seen her work.  She was so far beyond me, or my sisters, that there was no contest.  Alana and Bella would have to practice for years before they came close to matching her.  And neither had been interested in following in her footsteps.

I waited, trying to keep my face under tight control.  Mum could be strict - she’d certainly made sure to drill all three of us in proper behaviour - but she was also loving and caring.  I knew there were worse mothers and fathers out there, including some who might have sent me into exile once my lack of magic became apparent and pretended I’d simply never existed.  Mum had never disowned me, no matter how many people had snidely asked what she’d done to deserve a freak for a daughter.  They were regretting that now.  Mum had never let them forget it.

“Caitlyn,” Mum said.  She was using my full name.  This was going to be bad.  “I understand you’ve been invited to House Rubén.”

“Yes,” I said.  Mum had probably deduced what the letter said.  I knew she hadn’t broken the seal.  “Rose will accompany me.”

“Good.”  Mum said nothing for a long moment.  “You are aware, of course, that you are an adult now?”

I touched my hair.  It hung down ... and would remain that way until I married.  “Yes.”

“Yes,” Mum echoed.  Her eyes hardened, delivering a warning I understood all too well.  “And you should be aware that childish excuses will no longer be tolerated.”

“Yes.”  I winced.  Isabella Rubén had been a child when she’d committed High Treason.  It had been the only thing that had saved her life.  A grown adult would have been beheaded once her guilt had been proven beyond reasonable doubt.  “I know.”

“Good.”  Mum met my eyes, pinning me in place.  “We have enemies.  Eyes are on us, watching for the first crack in our armour.  What happened last night” - her lips thinned - “is already being used against us, even though it was apparently an unpredictable accident.  We look weak and so our enemies are jumping on us.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said.  It was hard not to show my impatience.  I’d heard the lecture before, time and time again.  It never changed.  “I will behave myself.”

“You are no longer a child,” Mum said, sternly.  “There will be no allowances made for your behaviour.  What you do can and will be used against you, against us.  And that is true of him too.  Akin is no longer a child either.  I would honestly advise you to stay away from him until the marriage, but I know you wouldn’t listen to me.”

My face heated.  “Mum ...”

Mum held up a hand.  “I was a young woman too,” she said, her voice softening.  “I remember what it was like for me, back when I was your age.  It wasn’t easy to deal with the simple fact that I didn’t get to choose my life partner, or that he didn’t get to choose his either.  And ... my hormones were popping, too.  My sister actually went a little further than she should with a notorious rake because he promised to marry her and she was young and foolish.”

I blinked.  “Auntie Morella ...”

“You are not to mention that to anyone,” Mum said.  “I wouldn’t be telling you if I didn’t think you needed to hear it.  Be careful.  You do not want to destroy your reputation - or his - through a single moment of carelessness.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I said.  It was hard to hide my embarrassment.  And surprise.  My aunt had always been so prim and proper.  The thought of her running off with a rake was ... it was impossible.  The world might as well stop spinning.  “We will be careful.”

“And you cannot cast certain charms,” Mum added.  “You must be careful.”

“Akin isn’t a monster,” I said, flatly.  “We’ve known each other for years.”

“It isn’t just him,” Mum said.  “You cannot protect yourself, not as effectively as either of your sisters.  And that will bite you, unless you’re very careful.”

I nodded, although I didn’t want to think about it.  Alana and Bella had been taught charms to protect their virtues or their lives.  Me?  My protections - based on Objects of Power concealed on my person - were passive.  I was uncomfortably aware I could be overwhelmed by force.  I was strong for my age and build, but others were stronger ...

Mum clapped her hands.  “Now, go get a shower and get changed,” she said.  I’d already showered, but ...  “You look filthy.”

I stood and curtseyed.  “Yes, Mother.”

Chapter Six

It felt odd, I had to admit, to walk outside with my hair down.  No one, save for my immediate family and my maids, had seen my hair like this since I left school five years ago.  The girls in the dorm would have seen my hair loose, I supposed, but that was excusable.  It would have been a major scandal if I’d walked out of the dorm without putting my hair in braids.  And yet ... I fought the urge to turn and run back to the mansion, or tie my hair back into braids, as Rose and I walked down the street.  A handful of unmarried men and women stared.  It made me want to hide.

House Rubén wasn’t that far from the mansion - it only took twenty minutes to walk from our gatehouse to theirs - but it felt a lot further.  I felt eyes following me as we walked, some not entirely friendly.  The gates we passed were securely locked, armsmen manning the gatehouses and patrolling the walls.  The Great Houses might have indulged in a little schadenfreude over what had happened to us, but they were all too aware that it might happen to them, too.  I wasn’t so sure - it still seemed like a freak accident - yet too much had happened over the summer for people to be relaxed.  The city was nervous, even though there was no obvious threat.  I didn’t blame the aristocracy for battening down the hatches and setting out to secure everything they could.

My sense of unease only deepened as we turned the corner and walked towards House Rubén.  Akin had told me that he’d hired more armsmen, but it looked as if he’d hired an entire army.  I saw at least thirty men within eyeshot, which suggested there were more hidden behind the walls.  His neighbours wouldn’t find their presence very reassuring, I reflected.  They were probably tightening their defences and hiring more armsmen of their own.  Rose tensed as we crossed the outer edge of the wards - I felt nothing, of course - and approached the gatehouse.  The guards snapped to attention.  They knew I would be the lady of the house soon enough.

“Lady Caitlyn,” the manservant said.  I didn’t recall seeing him before.  “If you’ll accompany me, I’ll take you straight to the visiting room.”

I nodded grandly, allowing him to lead me through the gatehouse and up the drive to the mansion itself.  There were workmen everywhere, repairing the damage from the attempted coup and tightening the defences in hopes of preventing anyone from trying to take over the family by force again.  Akin wasn’t taking any chances.  I felt a twinge of pity.  I wasn’t involved in running my family, but I’d heard enough grumbling from Alana to know it was a difficult job even with our father showing her the ropes.  Akin was trying to learn on the job, with few - if any - people he could trust.  And it wasn’t as if I could help him.

Isabella met us in the lobby.  “Cat,” she said.  “Welcome to our humble abode.”

I swallowed the sharp reaction that came to mind.  I wasn’t twelve any longer and neither was she.  “Thank you,” I said.  Isabella looked disgustingly well-rested ... I wondered, idly, if her mother had put her to work after her return from exile.  “Akin wanted me to take a look at the wardstone.”

“Of course,” Isabella said.  I heard a hint of reluctance.  “Leave your cloaks with the butler and follow me.”

I hefted my toolkit - I wasn’t going to let anyone carry it, particularly Isabella - and followed her through a maze of corridors.  Rubén Hall was even older than our mansion, I’d been told, although there were aspects of its history that had been allowed to slip into obscurity.  House Rubén was the oldest family in the city - and they never let anyone forget it - but they were a branch of the original family, one that had become the heirs to the family name by default.  It was clear they would have remained just another tiny offshoot if the Thousand-Year Empire hadn’t collapsed, leaving them the sole survivors.  The original House Rubén had gone down with the Eternal City.

The air grew colder as we reached a flight of stairs leading into the darkness.  Isabella took a lantern, lit it with a spell and passed it to me.  I expected a snide remark about my lack of magic, but she said nothing.  I glanced at Rose and blinked in surprise.  She looked uneasy, as if we were about to walk into the lair of a very deadly creature.  I took a breath and tasted something ... odd ... in the air.  Isabella seemed hesitant to go any further.  I nearly asked her if she wanted to remain behind, before she lifted a second lantern and led the way down the stairs.  She wouldn’t have wanted us to go alone.  Too many of her relatives would make a fuss.

“It feels ... wrong,” Rose said.  She sounded shaken, as if she’d been scared halfway to death.  “What happened?”

“Good question.”  Isabella didn’t look back, but I could hear the sneer in her voice.  “We’re hoping Cat might have the answer.”

I shivered as we reached the bottom of the stairs.  It was cold, so icy that I could see my breath misting up as we went through a pair of shattered doors.  The darkness seemed to have depth and heft to it, somehow.  I could practically feel it, even though I had no sensitivity to magic.  It felt ... it felt wrong, just as Rose had said.  I lifted the lantern, allowing the light to flow through the darkness.  The remains of the wardstone lay in front of me.  It was a burned-out ruin.

“We made our stand here,” Isabella said.  She waved a hand at the floor.  It was covered in debris, as if no one had bothered to sweep up in the weeks since the attempted coup.  I spotted the remains of the Whirlpool Object of Power I’d given her, lying on the ground.  It was a broken mess, but ... I hoped no one had taken a close look at it.  If they figured out what it did, they might figure out the secret.  “And we used Cat’s final weapon to ... to win.”

Her voice twisted.  “And the wardstone collapsed into that.”

I put my toolkit on the ground and started to dig through it.  “What happened since then?”

“No one can bear to be in this room for very long,” Isabella said.  “Spells go funny ... even something as simple as a lighting spell.  Our forgers and wardcrafters refused to even consider taking the remains of the wardstone apart.  Callam is the only person who doesn’t seem affected and he doesn’t know where to begin.”

“No,” I agreed.  I took the spectacles out of my bag and held them up, carefully.  “Let me take a look.”

I braced myself, then peered through the spectacles without actually putting them on my nose.  The chamber lit up.  I could see waves of magic - frozen magic, twisted magic - pulsing around the remains of the wardstone.  It was odd.  It looked like a frozen ocean of magic.  It should have been moving.  Instead, it looked ... I frowned as I realised the background magic field had been warped and twisted.  I’d seen something like it before, during the battle at Jude’s, but this was different.  The wardstone had died slowly.

It was designed to suck in magic and channel it into wards, I thought.  And the power got choked off.

“Well?”  Isabella sounded edgy, not impatient.  I had the impression she couldn’t wait to get out.  “What happened?”

“Good question,” I said.  It was low of me, but ... I told myself not to be cruel.  I was the blind woman.  She was the sighted woman who was staring into a blinding light.  “I think the weapon I gave you disrupted the spellform, which triggered off a cascade reaction ...”

I stopped, dead.  The ward network back home had also suffered a cascade reaction.  Could it be related?  I didn’t want to think about it, but ... my mind ran in circles.  There was no reason to think so, not when the ward network had suffered a power surge and the wardstone had endured a power drain.  It was rather more likely the spellforms had started to collapse, magic spitting in all directions before it was snuffed out.  And, somehow, the damage to the local magic field had remained in place.

Isabella cleared her throat.  “And can you explain what happened in plain speech?”

“Imagine you’re holding a hose,” I said, after a moment’s thought.  It wasn’t a perfect metaphor, but it would have to do.  “You’re spraying water onto the flower beds.  And then you let go of the hose.  The flow of water sends the hose flying around, which means the water goes everywhere.  You get drenched.  The pile of seeds you intended to plant are blown right across the lawn.  And you have to either pick them up or watch helplessly as the lawn is infested by flowers.”

“Infested.”  Isabella sounded irked.  “Is there anything you can do about it?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.  I didn’t want to discuss the secret with Isabella.  “The wardstone was warped to the point it did permanent damage to the surrounding area.  It may be impossible to fix.”

“And it’s right under the mansion,” Isabella said.  “We need to set up a new wardstone.”

“Do it somewhere else,” I advised.  It was tempting to think I could repair the ruin in front of me, but it would be easier and safer to forge a new one.  The bride was meant to present a gift to the bridegroom before the wedding and I couldn’t think of anything better.  It would certainly be unique.  “Give me a few moments to study the remains, then we’ll go upstairs.”

I leaned forward, analysing the frozen magic.  The topography of the background magic field had been warped beyond recognition.  It wasn’t so much that the magic was gone - Whirlpool was designed to consume all the magic within range - as the remaining magic falling into a weird pattern.  I opened my mouth to suggest Isabella or Rose cast a spell, just to see what happened, then closed it again without saying a word.  There was no way to calculate the risk.  It might kill all three of us or blow up the mansion or ... or perhaps even do nothing.  I wondered what Isabella would make of that.

“Strange,” I said, finally.  I didn’t know what had happened to the wardstone under Jude’s.  The school was big enough for the staff to seal off the entire area, then set up a new wardstone somewhere else.  “I’d like to study the wardstone a little further.  Perhaps we can move it out of the hall.”

Isabella choked.  I grinned as I packed up.  The wardstone was a family secret.  No one who wasn’t a blood relative was supposed to see it.  If Akin had let me see it a month ago, his family would have risen against him.  Even now ... I allowed my smile to grow wider in the darkness.  Isabella herself shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near it.  Everyone had assumed she’d marry out of the family before she went into exile.  They thought the same of Bella and me.

The air grew warmer as we made our way back up the stairs and into a small parlour, where Callam awaited us.  Isabella gave him a quick hug - I made careful note of that for later use - and then motioned for us to sit.  I sat, wondering what had happened to the rest of the family.  House Rubén wasn’t exactly small.  They’d sent quite a large contingent to yesterday’s ball.

“The servants will bring lunch,” Isabella said.  She sat next to Callam.  “Do you want anything in particular?”

“No,” I said.  I’d never been a fussy eater.  “Order whatever you like.”

Isabella smiled.  “I scandalised the cooks by ordering Kirkhaven Broth,” she said, wryly.  “They were completely horrified.”

“And they insisted on cooking it from scratch,” Callam agreed.  “That’s not quite how they’re meant to do it.”

I raised my eyebrows.  “And how are you meant to do it?”

“It’s a soup, of a sort,” Callam said.  “You take everything from leftover chicken to beef and pork, and all sorts of vegetables, and boil them up together.  It’s a way to get rid of the final pieces of meat - my mother used to boil up the remnants of a chicken and use it as a base for the soup.”

“More of a stew, by our standards,” Isabella said.  “It’s very crude, but filling.”

“Done properly, it’s very nice,” Rose agreed.  She still sounded uneasy.  “Why didn’t they just use their leftovers?”

Isabella shrugged.  I suspected I knew the answer.  The cooks were eating the leftovers themselves.  I kept that thought to myself.  The cooks didn’t have an easy job at the best of times.  If they wanted to finish the dinners themselves, they could.  I didn’t mind.  I was fairly sure my father didn’t mind, either.

“I wasted a lot of food when I started learning to cook.”  Isabella grimaced, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant.  “But I persisted.”

“I’m surprised you learnt,” I said.  “Why?”

“No servants at Kirkhaven, not at first,” Isabella said.  She grinned, suddenly.  “What’s the difference between brewing and cooking?  One is socially acceptable and the other is not.”

I had to smile.  “Don’t let my mother hear you say that,” I said.  “She’d throw a fit.”

“I know.”  Isabella looked downcast.  “It was ... disconcerting ... to realise that cooking and brewing are effectively the same thing, with the same skill sets.  But once I got that idea into my head, it became a great deal easier.”

I studied her for a moment.  “Why don’t you want to stay here?”

Isabella looked back at me, her face unreadable.  “It’s a sham.”

“A sham?”  I hadn’t expected that answer.  “What do you mean?”

“When I was a little girl, everyone loved me ... because of the family name,” Isabella said, flatly.  “When I was exiled, they pretended I didn’t exist; when I returned, they drove me out of their world.  And then ...”

She looked pained.  “Uncle Stephen came up with a brilliant loophole to have me, not Akin, become Heir Primus.  It was cunning.  Perfectly legal, certainly well within the letter of the law.  And the simple prospect of me being the de facto matriarch made everyone decide they had to be nice to me.  Again.  It was so quick it had to be fake.  They wouldn’t have played nice with me, with anyone, unless they thought I’d be in position to take revenge.”

“No,” I agreed.

“One moment, they hate me; the next, they love me.”  Isabella shook her head.  “Kirkhaven isn’t a bad place, now.  Better to be there than here.”

I was surprised, although I knew how she felt.  Everyone had shunned me until they’d realised what I could do.  I couldn’t blame Isabella for letting it go to her head - just a little - any more than I could blame myself.  At least she’d seen through it before any permanent damage was done.  I’d walked straight into a trap and gotten myself, Akin and Rose kidnapped.  I had nightmares, sometimes, about how close I’d come to certain death or permanent slavery.

“We’ll be fine there,” Callam assured me.  “And I will keep up with my studies.”

I looked from him to Isabella and back again, feeling an odd little twinge.  They genuinely loved one another.  It was strange, for all sorts of reasons, but it was real.  I told myself I was being stupid.  It had been nearly six years since Isabella had committed treason.  She’d had time to grow up, time to realise that she’d made a foolish mistake, time to become a better person.  Maybe we’d never be close.  It didn’t mean she was still a bad person.

“As long as you’re safe,” I said.  “I’ll show you the new wardstones tomorrow, if you’re interested, and talk you through emplacing them.”

“You would be welcome to come,” Callam said.  “You could help us emplace them yourself.”

I saw Isabella tense, so slightly I doubted Callam noticed.  Isabella didn’t want me to come.  I understood.  I hadn’t been that happy having her visit the Workshop, either.  And besides, it was quite possible she saw me as a rival.  Callam and I shared a talent.  I wondered, numbly, if Akin had been jealous when Callam and I had worked together.  He’d never said anything.  

And even if he didn’t, High Society certainly would, I thought.  I felt a flash of naked hatred.  They’d overlook the chaperones just so they could undermine us.

“I can’t leave the city, not now,” I said.  I wanted to go somewhere, even if it wasn’t Kirkhaven.  “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Rose changed the subject, slightly.  “When do you intend to leave?”

“Shortly,” Isabella said.  “I have considered staying until the wedding, but my presence is something of an embarrassment.  We’ll be back once you set the date.”

The door opened.  Akin joined us.  He looked harried.  “I’m glad to see you again,” he said, tiredly.  “Did you have any luck with the wardstone?”

“No.”  I filled him in quickly.  “I’ll make you a new one.”

“We have matters to discuss,” Akin agreed.  “Can you join me in the office after lunch?”

Isabella shot him a snide glance.  “Should we insist you leave the door open?”

“No,” Akin said.  “But you can stand guard in the antechamber.”

Chapter Seven

Akin and I had been betrothed for years, and I had visited his family’s mansion a number of times, but I had never actually stepped into the patriarch’s office.  I couldn’t help feeling curious as I followed him into the room, even though I had bad associations with my father’s office.  It seemed that every time I entered the chamber, bad news followed.  I wondered, sometimes, if Alana felt the same way.  She’d spent more time in our father’s office, over the last few months, than I had in my entire life.

It was larger than my father’s office, I noted; the windows, charmed to prevent people from spying, looked over the city.  One half of the chamber appeared to be a formal office, with a heavy wooden desk and chairs; the other half appeared to be a comfortable sitting room, perhaps for more informal talks amongst family members.  I was surprised to see a teapot and a small collection of china cups resting on the sideboard - I doubted Akin’s father had ever made his own tea - although it would probably help keep maids and their ears out of the chamber.  Akin stepped towards the window, motioning to the comfortable armchairs.  I felt a sudden thrill of excitement.  Akin and I were alone together, in private.  It was ... it was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

My mouth was suddenly dry.  “Won’t anyone notice we’re alone?”

“I pulled out most of the wards and rebuilt them, after the coup,” Akin said.  He sat, resting his hands on his lap.  I sat facing him.  “There’s only one way in and out of the room and it’s guarded.  As far as anyone else knows, we’re chaperoned.”

“Isabella won’t tell anyone?”  I trusted Rose, but Isabella?  “She’ll keep her mouth shut?”

Akin winked.  “She wants to spend some private time with Callam,” he said.  “I’ll pretend to chaperone them and she’ll pretend to chaperone us.  And no one will ask questions for fear of the answers.”

I relaxed, slightly.  “Won’t she be in some trouble when she goes back to Kirkhaven?”

“It probably won’t matter,” Akin said.  I heard the pain in his voice and kicked myself, mentally.  “Right now, the remainder of the family would prefer to forget she ever existed.”

“They can’t forget Callam, can they?”  I looked down at my hands.  “His talents are ... useful.”

“Yeah.”  Akin rubbed his forehead.  “He doesn’t want to stay and I don’t want to try to force him.  Hopefully, he should be safe.  The family will extend protection to him as a matter of course, given that he’s engaged to my sister, and he’ll have his own protections as well.  It isn’t ideal” - he looked as though he’d bitten into a sour fruit - “but it will have to do.”

He hesitated, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say next.  “You know I’ve been going through my father’s files?”

I frowned.  “Yes ...?”

“I found a lot of his correspondence, as well as his secret files of blackmail information,” Akin said.  “He was in close contact with your father, among others.  There are hundreds of letters, dating back from the House War until now.  They’re quite informative.”

“I’m sure they are,” I said.  I didn’t want to know.  Not really.  “What didn’t get written down?”

Akin smiled.  It didn’t quite touch his eyes.  “He was also in touch with the king,” he added, slowly.  “His Majesty sent a number of achingly polite, yet very firm, letters to your father and mine.  He wanted - he wants - you turned over to him, if you couldn’t be trusted to remain neutral on your own.  The tone got a great deal sharper after Callam was discovered at Kirkhaven.  I think His Majesty believes my father concealed Callam’s existence from him as well as everyone else.”

I blinked.  “Is that true?”

“No.”  Akin shook his head.  “My father was genuinely shocked to discover that Isabella had found a second Zero.  He wouldn’t have been so paranoid when we found out if he’d already known the truth.  And ... if he’d known, he would have done everything in his power to bring Callam and his family to Shallot before it was too late.  I don’t think he had any clue what was really going on until I found the spellbreaker.”

He snorted.  “Not that His Majesty believed him, of course.”

“No,” I agreed.  King Rufus’s son had turned against him.  His grandson was still a minor child - and possibly influenced by his mother, who’d pushed her husband to make a bid for her father’s throne.  The king was known to be paranoid.  He must have feared the worst when he’d discovered that a second Zero had been kept from him.  “What happened?”

“It’s hard to say for sure,” Akin said.  “My father’s secretary took oaths of perpetual secrecy.  Those oaths are apparently still valid, even after their master’s death.  It doesn’t help that Father apparently wrote some of the letters in his own hand, not trusting them even to oathbound secretaries.  Some of the letters ... they’re either missing or there was only ever one copy and that was the one sent to the king.  Again, there’s no one I can ask about it.  The family council, what’s left of it, was apparently happy to let Father handle the matter.  They wanted to make sure he’d get the blame, without dragging them into it, too.”

I felt my heart sink.  “What do you think happened?”

“Reading the letters, and between the lines, I think our fathers were insistent that you stayed out of politics as long as you were a minor child,” Akin said.  “The king appears to have gone along with it, if only because he didn’t have much choice.  His discovery that Callam existed made things worse - I think he wanted both of you sent to the capital at once and our fathers declined.  Since then ... my father died.  Many of his secrets died with him.”

“I ...”  I stared at him.  “Dad never said anything about this to me.”

“He may have felt you already knew, or guessed, the truth,” Akin said.  “And he may have been playing for time.  My father never mentioned it to me, either.”

I felt as if the ground had moved under my feet.  I’d known I was politically important - it was why I hadn’t been allowed to leave the city in six years - but I’d never realised the king was demanding custody of me.  Or Callam ... no one had even known Callam existed, save for Isabella and she’d kept her mouth firmly closed.  My mind raced.  I should have paid more attention to politics.  If ...

Akin got up and started to pace.  “I think there’s at least nine letters missing from the collection,” he said.  “I don’t know if your father got copies” - he laughed suddenly - “I don’t know if they even existed!  I can only infer their existence from what was written in the other letters.  I don’t suppose you know how to free someone from their oaths?”

I hesitated, considering it.  In theory, if there was no magic in the vicinity, the oath shouldn’t bite.  It wouldn’t exist as anything more than meaningless words.  In practice, I wasn’t so sure.  The oathbreaker might have to spend the rest of his life in a magic-less box, for fear the oath would kill him the moment the magic returned.  Akin was on the verge of shattering long-established laws and customs.  To attempt to force someone to break a sworn oath was strictly forbidden, if only because it was so often lethal.

“I don’t think so,” I said, finally.  Perhaps it was possible, but I wasn’t inclined to try.  I’d never dared risk breaking an oath myself and I was fairly sure no oath would have any effect on me.  “It would put the subject’s life in serious danger.”

Akin said nothing.  I felt a flicker of dismay at the loss of his innocence.  He’d been one of the kindest people I’d met, right at the start - it still bemused me how he and Isabella could be related - and yet, he’d had to make some hard choices.  His cousin had died, his uncles had betrayed him, his father had died and his mother had become withdrawn ... I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him tight.  He didn’t deserve to be forced to consider doing something dreadful, something that might easily get a loyal man killed.  It didn’t help that none of us knew what would really happen if ...

“We can’t,” Akin said, finally.  “Not yet.  Perhaps not ever.”

“No,” I agreed.  “I think we should start by asking Dad.”

“Please,” Akin said.  His hands twisted as he turned to face me.  “Cat, we could get married now.  I mean, go straight down to Magus Court and register the marriage.  It would give you a degree of political protection ...”

“Mum and Dad would kill us,” I said.  The marriage, the first in my immediate family, would be a grand occasion.  I was already dreading it.  Alana and Bella hadn’t helped by providing all sorts of horror stories about brides who turned into monsters and parents who thought the whole affair was all about them, not their children.  “It’s tempting, but ...”

I sagged.  Why hadn’t Dad told me?  I should have known what was happening.  Had he been hoping to wait out the clock, to get us married and then dare the king to press his claim?  Or had he had something else in mind?  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but ... I had to ask.  I knew I had to ask.  And I was dreading that too.

Akin smiled, rather wanly.  “My mother wouldn’t be happy either,” he said.  “Perhaps it would even bring her out of her rooms.”

“And you’d have to speak to yourself very severely about it,” I added.  “Or can you give yourself permission to get married now?”

“My father should have told me,” Akin said.  He waved a hand at the filing cabinets.  “How much else did he keep to himself?”

I shook my head.  I had no idea.  Everyone who was important - or thought they were - had networks of clients, agents and outright spies infesting all levels of society.  Lord Carioca Rubén had been a spider sitting at the centre of a web, absorbing vast amounts of information and turning it into something he could use.  My father was just the same.  Now ... I wondered, not for the first time, if he was already transferring some of his powers and contacts to Alana.  It would give her something to do, while making sure she didn’t start to chafe under his supervision and start plotting trouble.  It would certainly ensure she wasn’t blindsided if he died before retiring and passing formal authority to her.  

“He should have told me.”  Akin started to pace again.  “And we really don’t have time to sort out the truth.”

“I’ll ask my father,” I said.  “And I’ll make sure you know what’s happening.”

I paused.  “Are you going to tell Isabella?”

Akin grimaced.  “I don’t have a choice,” he said.  “Callam is going to be a great deal more vulnerable at Kirkhaven, no matter how many protections he works into the hall’s defences.  I think they can simply be starved out, given time.  I think it’s just a matter of time before the king demands Callam be handed over, or else.  And if he’s outside the city at the time ...”

“Tell him,” I urged.  “He might take you seriously.”

“Isabella might,” Akin corrected.  “Callam ... doesn’t see himself as important.  He doesn’t understand just how game-changing his talent is, not when it is completely beyond his experience.  He ... he has a habit of vastly understating his own value.  He doesn’t really believe Isabella when she tells him the truth.”

I frowned.  “He doesn’t believe her?”

“I think he believes her, but he doesn’t believe her,” Akin said.  “If you see what I mean ...”

I nodded.  I’d been told, once, that there were places so backward they actually judged people by the colour of their skin.  It was absurd, so stupid that even trying to put together a rebuttal floundered on the sheer lack of logic.  I could believe it was true and yet find it hard to believe anyone could be so stupid.  Callam had grown up a commoner, his world limited to a tiny section of the kingdom.  The idea his talent might make him a player on the global stage was difficult for him to grasp.   It was so far outside his experience that it might as well be on the other side of the world.

“Talk to him about it,” I said.  “Would it cause you political problems if they stay?”

“Perhaps.”  Akin grimaced.  “Technically, she still is the Heir Primus.  Technically.  I don’t know how many people would go along with it if I died tomorrow.  She says she doesn’t want the job, but if not her ...”

He turned and paced to the windows.  “I checked the records.  The last actual dispute over the legitimate Heir Primus was five hundred years ago, because both the serving patriarch and both of his sons were killed in an accident.  There were several months of arguing before the family decided to rally behind a compromise candidate.  Right now, Isabella may find herself caught between taking a job she no longer wants and being forced to watch as the family falls apart.”

I stood and walked over to join him.  “Can’t you designate a provisional heir?”

“Not easily.”  Akin wrapped an arm around me.  I leaned into his touch.  “I - we - don’t have children.  Not yet.  Isabella and Penny - and Penny’s sisters - are the only other possibilities and they’re all girls.  Anyone outside the immediate bloodline would have to be confirmed by the council, which would give them a chance to impose their own candidate or - more likely - set off another round of brutal infighting.  I don’t think the family could take any more.”

I said nothing.  I’d always known I’d have children - one day - but I hadn’t been planning to have them so quickly.  Once we were married, everyone would expect us to produce an heir ... I groaned, wishing - not for the first time - that I’d been able to live a little before becoming the slave of duty.  It would have been easier, almost, if I hadn’t liked him.  I could have flatly refused to marry someone I didn’t want ... it just wasn’t fair.  I stared over the city, feeling a twinge of envy for the commoners below.  They could leave their families and the city and do whatever they wanted, without consequence.  I was as trapped as everyone else in the aristocracy.

Akin shifted against me.  I lifted my lips to his.  We kissed, deeply, as his arms tightened around me.  I felt a surge of sudden desire as his hands ran up and down my back, pulling me closer.  My heart pounded as his hands slipped under my shirt, reaching up to touch my breast.  It felt ... I shivered as he cupped my breast with his hand, my nipple hardening against his skin.  I felt ... I wanted him to carry on and wanted him to stop and wanted ... my heart thudded in my chest.  I wanted ...

I forced myself to take a step back.  It was hard to convince my body to move.  I remembered my mother’s warning and swallowed hard, adjusting my shirt as he looked away.  He hadn’t held me in place.  It had been my own body and its desires that had held me in place.  I wanted to throw caution to the winds and take him to bed, yet I knew I couldn’t.  Not yet.  I took deep breaths, calming myself.  I didn’t need to look into his eyes to know he was disappointed.  I was disappointed, too.

“I ...”

“I understand,” Akin said, gently.  He adjusted his clothes.  I tried not to watch.  “Really, I do.”

“I’ll speak to my father,” I said, biting my lip.  I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation and yet ... I felt a surge of anger.  I might have been a child, at least until yesterday, but I hadn’t been a baby.  I’d been eighteen for nearly seven months!  “And I’ll let you know what he says.”

I stepped into the gentleman’s closet and stared at myself in the mirror.  My lips looked puffy, as if I’d spent the last hour ... I gritted my teeth, splashing cold water on my face before straightening my clothes.  Next time, perhaps it would be better to bring a change of clothes ... I shook my head firmly as I ran my hand through my hair.  I was an adult now.  It just wasn’t fair.  

“You look untouched,” Akin said.  His voice was even, but I could tell he was still upset.  “We’ll go meet the others, shall we?”

I nodded.  I didn’t want to put Rose any further on the spot.  Not now.  Mum would be deeply unamused if she knew I’d let him touch my breast ... my skin tingled.  It had been wonderful and terrifying and ... I didn’t want to think about it.  Who could I even ask?  Isabella?  We did have a shared interest in keeping everything secret ...

Hell, no, I thought.

“Yes,” I agreed.  I started to rehearse what I was going to say - mentally - as we headed back to the door.  Dad would not be pleased if I started screaming, no matter the cause.  “I’ll go straight back to the mansion with Rose.”

Chapter Eight

My father’s office had always intimidated me, just a little.  It was the heart of the family, an ever-present reminder that each and every one of us, from the highest to the lowest, was part of something great.  No one, not even Alana, was allowed to enter the chamber without prior approval.  I didn’t think anyone from outside the family, not even Akin’s father, had ever been permitted to enter.  It was ours and ours alone.

I stopped outside the heavy wooden door, bracing myself.  My father was inside - or so the butler had told me - and he probably wasn’t alone.  He’d be drilling Alana in everything she needed to know before it was too late ... I hesitated, torn between the urge to confront him and a similar urge to wait until they were finished.  I didn’t want Alana anywhere near while I ... discussed ... the matter with our father.  It was going to be hard enough establishing boundaries if - when - she inherited his position.

My hand raised, seemingly of its own accord, and knocked.  There was a long pause.  It was vanishingly rare for anyone to disturb my father in his private office - there was a larger office two floors down, with a secretary standing guard, for outside visitors - and I wondered, just for a second, if he was even there.  Dad knew all the secrets of the mansion, including hidden passageways and secret compartments that weren’t shown on any map.  He could be anywhere within the building, perhaps even further afield.  Alana would need to know everything by the time she succeeded him.  A passageway she didn’t know existed might prove fatal, if the family went through a prolonged period of chaos.

The door opened, revealing the office.  It was smaller than I remembered - I’d been smaller too, the last time I’d visited - with a heavy wooden desk, a trio of wooden chairs and a row of locked and warded filing cabinets.  Alana sat in one of the chairs, looking uncomfortable.  I had no idea why Dad hadn’t invested in comfortable armchairs, although I could make a very good guess.  Dad knew it was dangerous to grow too comfortable.  It was one step closer to becoming complacent at the worst possible time. Dad himself sat on the other side of the desk, a set of papers in front of him.  Letters from our clients and agents perhaps, including some who didn’t openly belong to us.  Akin’s father wasn’t the only one who had his private network of spies.

Dad met my eyes.  “Cat?”

“I need to talk to you,” I said, silently trying to plead for him to send Alana out of the chamber.  “It’s important.”

Alana stared at me, her face blank.  I wondered what she was thinking.  Did she think I’d done something really stupid?  Or ... or what?  There was no shortage of stories that started with a girl - it was always a girl - making a tearful confession to her parents and obligingly submitting to their will.  Personally, I’d always thought those stories were written and spread by the Grande Dames.  I’d never met anyone my age who’d looked up to their parents as unquestionable authority figures.  I loved my parents dearly, but I wasn’t blind to their flaws.

“Alana,” Dad said.  “We’ll pick this up again in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, Father,” Alana said.  I could tell she wanted to object.  She probably would have, if they’d been alone.  Dad had no qualms about letting us argue with him in private.  In public, we were supposed to show a united front.  “I’ll see you at four.”

She stood, brushing down her dress.  I noted she’d taken some pains to look mature, tying her hair back in a manner that suggested she was doing it like an older - married - woman without ever quite crossing the line.  She probably wanted Dad to think of her as an adult ... I doubted that was going to happen in a hurry.  Dad was our ... well, our dad.  It would be a long time before he saw us as independent in our own right.

I waited until she left, closing the door behind her.  The office was so heavily warded - I’d been told - that no one, not even the sneakiest wardcrafter in the city, could spy on us.  I’d helped secure the chamber myself, crafting an Object of Power to add to the layer upon layer of wards and other protections.  Alana might be angry at being shut out - my sister had a talent for being nosy - but there was nothing she could do about it.  Dad wouldn’t tell her anything about the whole affair until she needed to know.

“Cat.”  Dad waved a hand towards one of the chairs.  “What can I do for you?”

I didn’t sit.  I clasped my hands behind my back instead.  A hundred questions bubbled through my mind, a hundred demands and accusations and ... and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say first.  My temper had cooled, during the walk back home.  I still wanted to scream at him and yet I knew he’d respond better to rational argument.  And yet, I didn’t know enough to put a rational argument together.  My thoughts were a mess.

“I ...”  I swallowed and started again.  “Why didn’t you tell me the king wanted me - us - sent to him?”

Dad didn’t pretend to be surprised.  In hindsight, I guessed he’d expected it from the moment Akin became Patriarch.  Even if Akin’s father hadn’t told him, it would be in the files.  Whatever plans the two of them had dreamed up to keep me out of the king’s hands had been knocked for a loop by Callam’s arrival.  I tried to think like the monarch and cursed under my breath.  Callam had been a lucky accident, his existence a secret from everyone in Shallot, but there was no way the king would believe it.  He’d fear the worst and react accordingly.

“It was our hope the politics could be smoothed out before you came of age,” Dad said, finally.  “We believed we could ensure your safety within the city, if not outside it.”

“And you never thought to tell me?”  I felt a hot flash of anger.  “Dad ... you should have said something.”

“I thought it would only have worried you for nothing,” Dad said.  His voice was calm, but there was a grim note suggesting he was deeply worried.  “As long as you were a child, the king had few avenues to take you from the city.  The Great Houses would never have stood for an outright kidnapping, however disguised.  They would have banded together if you’d been taken, and the king knew it.  He was ... willing ... to wait.  As long as there was only one of you, your impact on national events would be limited.”

“But now there’s two of us,” I snapped.  “And the king wants us both sent to him!”

“He wants a great deal of say in what happens to you,” Dad agreed.  “At the same time, he is reluctant to make a public issue of it.  His position is quite weak.  His son turned on him, his acknowledged heir is a minor child, the international situation is quite grave ... we believed we had sufficient manoeuvring room to take his interests into account without actually surrendering you.  Our plan was to keep stalling until you were married, at which point the king would have to back off.”

He stared at his hands for a long moment.  “And there are other issues too.  Issues that ... interest us as much as him, but could easily lead to trouble for us.  Both of us.”

I leaned forward.  “You should have told me.”

Dad looked up.  “What good would it have done?”

I scowled, feeling another flash of anger.  “I am not a ... a prize racehorse.  I am not a pawn in your game ...”

“Are you sure?”  Dad met my eyes evenly.  “Your talents are - were - unique.  Your mere existence has turned the world on its head.  There are parties that want you dead and gone – Callam, too, now.  Others want to make use of you.  And ... Cat, you have no idea how many plots against you I nipped in the bud.  If we hadn’t had a working alliance with House Rubén, the entire edifice might have collapsed.”

“I am not a pawn,” I insisted.

“Yes, you are.”  Dad looked regretful.  It didn’t help.  “You are my daughter and I love you dearly and ... that doesn’t absolve me of the responsibility to use you to benefit the family.”

I sagged.  “Dad ...”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dad said.  “You feel betrayed.  I understand.  I sought to keep this from you as long as possible, in hopes we could bury it before you became an adult.  And I failed.”

“Yes.”  I should have been kinder, but I didn’t want to be.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I felt numb as I waited for his answer.  I’d grown up in the aristocracy.  I’d known a great deal of my life would be shaped and controlled by my family, even before my talents had become apparent.  Dad and the family council would determine who I married - and if I wanted to say no, I’d have to leave the family.  Even now ... I winced, inwardly.  The family council had already given its blessing to the proposed match, back when Akin and I had been betrothed, but the politics could easily turn poisonous.  I knew several family members who’d be glad to take Dad down a peg or two.

“It was my decision,” Dad said.  “I made what I thought was the best decision at the time.  I didn’t realise how quickly things would change, when Callam appeared, or how badly it would frighten the king.  And I doubt he and Isabella will be allowed to remain unmolested for long, once they go back up to Kirkhaven.”

“The king can’t force Callam to work for him,” I said.  “Can he?”

Dad snorted.  “You were kidnapped once,” he said.  “And the last set of kidnappers forced you to forge for them, didn’t they?”

“... Yes.”

“I have done my best to ... shield ... you from the realities of the world,” Dad said.  “I went to a great deal of trouble to ensure you enjoyed some freedom on the streets, rather than surrounding you with a small army of personal guards.  As long as you remained in North Shallot, I was fairly sure you’d be safe.  I was reluctant to let you go any further afield for fear of what would happen to you.  There were - there are - just too many people who wouldn’t shed a tear if you were to be taken off the chessboard.”

“I already knew the dangers,” I snapped.

“Do you?”  Dad didn’t raise his voice.  “You were kidnapped by someone who wanted to force you to work for her.  That person had a vested interest in keeping you alive, if not happy.  Others ... want you dead.  It would have been easy for them to slip an assassin into Jude’s and put a knife in your ribs, or attack you on the streets of South Shallot or ... or do something.  There were people, in the early days, who honestly suggested we should cut off your hands!”

I recoiled.  “Dad!”

Dad didn’t seem to hear me.  “I kept you as close as I could for your own protection.  There were days when I thought it would be better to confine you to the house permanently, then urge Akin to do the same when you married.  Your mother wouldn’t hear of it.  I feared ... I feared that letting you leave the city would result in your death - or worse.  There are just too many people who fear what you might do to the balance of power.”

“And that’s why you kept me in the city,” I said.  I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.  He winced, suggesting I hadn’t succeeded.  “That’s why you never let me go to the country estates.”

“Yes.”  Dad shook his head.  “I feared you would be taken and, this time, you wouldn’t be able to escape.”

“I wanted to go!”  Anger tore through me.  “I wanted to see the world!  I wanted to go on the Grand Tour ...”

“You can’t,” Dad said.  “If you were taken ...”

I clenched my fists.  It was traditional for the younger scions of a Great House to go on the Grand Tour when they came of age, to see something of the world before they got married and settled down to promoting their family’s interests.  I’d been looking forward to going, once I was an adult.  I could visit the capital and the more distant cities, perhaps even take ship to the lands on the far side of the Inner Sea.  Or ... I wondered, suddenly, what they’d been planning to do with my honeymoon.  Akin and I had planned a long visit to the country, after we married.  Had our fathers intended to veto it right from the start?

“This is a prison,” I burst out.  “I want to see the world!”

“And if you do, you’ll wind up seeing the inside of a real prison cell,” Dad countered.  “There is no shortage of people who want you for themselves, or dead.  And they will not always make the same mistakes.  You are vulnerable, Cat, and you have to understand ...”

I swallowed a sharp response.  He was right.  I knew he was.  The next set of kidnappers wouldn’t leave me under loose supervision.  They could and would insist on inspecting everything I did, just to make sure I didn’t forge something I could use to escape under their noses.  I didn’t have the magic that Alana and Bella took for granted.  It would be almost laughably easy to confine me, in a place I couldn’t escape without magic.  And yet ...

My legs buckled.  I sat on the uncomfortable chair, staring at nothing.  The mansion had every luxury money could buy, from food on demand to hot baths, comfy sofas, a library crammed with rare and unique books ... and yet it and the city beyond was a prison, a prison I couldn’t leave.  Rose had grown up in a tiny village and I knew just how much her childhood had lacked, but ... it didn’t help.  My friend had the freedom to go wherever she liked.  I was trapped in a gilded cage.

Raw anger burned through me.  I needed to be free.  I had to ... I didn’t want to leave the city for good, to leave my family and my friends behind forever, but I wanted to go and come back.  I... I deserved to be free.  

My hands twisted in my lap.  What freedom did I have, really?  My path had been laid down for me by my father ... he meant well, I knew he did, but ...

“I’m an adult now,” I said, stiffly.  “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

Dad met my eyes.  “Adults are also meant to be aware of adult limitations,” he said.  “You can’t throw a tantrum and get your way.”

“Really?”  I made a show of rolling my eyes.  “No one bothered to tell Sally Oswald she wasn’t allowed to throw a tantrum.”

Dad’s lips quirked.  Sally Oswald and her family were minor nobility.  Sally herself, only a couple of years older than me, had thrown a full-scale tantrum during her wedding, screaming and shouting so loudly I thought she was going to shatter every window in the hall.  I would have felt sorry for her, if she’d been forced to marry someone against her will, but - from what I’d heard in the screaming - she’d pitched a fit because someone else had the nerve to wear the same dress from a supposedly exclusive designer.  Alana had been more mature at twelve!

I shook my head, pushing the memory aside.  “I can go in disguise,” I said.  “I can take a bodyguard, if you wish, as many travelling women are wont to do.  But I will see something of the world before I marry.”

“Really.”  Dad’s voice was cold.  “And if I say no?”

“I’m an adult,” I said.  “I don’t need your leave to go.”

“The risk is considerable,” Dad said.  He couldn’t stop me - not legally.  I didn’t know if that would be enough to keep him from trying.  “You will be putting your life at risk.”

“Yes,” I agreed.  There was no point in disputing it.  “But it is my life to risk.”

Dad met my eyes.  “I understand,” he said.  “Really, I do.  But the risk is unacceptable.”

“I’m going,” I said.  “With or without your blessing, I will go.”

“You are definitely my daughter,” Dad said.  “You have my stubbornness as well as my eyes.”

I said nothing.  If he tried to keep me locked in the house ... I wondered, suddenly, if I’d made a dreadful mistake.  Dad could prevent me from leaving, if he wanted; it wouldn’t be the first time someone was effectively kept confined in their own home.  He might even convince himself it was for the best.  I might be a prisoner, I might be consumed with rage and hatred directed at him, but at least I would be alive.  I’d never doubted my father loved me.  Even before my talents had become apparent, he’d done his best for me ...

But not everything he did suited you, a voice whispered at the back of my head.  Did it?

“I ...”  Dad stopped and started again.  “I may have a solution, one that will please everyone.  Including you.  Give me a few hours.  We’ll speak again tomorrow morning.”

I blinked, caught by surprise.  “What do you have in mind?”

“Let me test the politics first,” Dad said.  “And if I can’t get them to line up, we’ll think of something else.”

Chapter Nine

It was not easy to sleep, that night.

There was no shortage of stories about aristocratic heirs - almost always young women - who were locked up by their parents or relatives for one reason or another.  I’d never taken the stories too seriously, at least partly because the heroines were either absurdly romantic to the point they fell into the arms of the hero or because they brought their fate on themselves through excessive silliness.  And yet ... I knew there was a grain of truth in some of the stories.  If Dad wanted to confine me, he could.  I was tempted - very tempted - just to leave the mansion and make a run for it.

And yet, Dad’s words hung in my mind.  I’d never before considered just how much had gone on, behind the scenes, to keep me safe.  It would be a brave or foolish - or desperate - man who carried out an assassination in North Shallot, where everyone from the highest of the Grande Dames to the lowliest of servants could be relied upon to keep an eye open for trouble.  Rose had told me that she’d been stopped in the streets and interrogated several times, by random strangers rather than family armsmen or city guardsmen.  And ... in hindsight, I realised I’d never been allowed to enter South Shallot without an escort.  I’d never been allowed anywhere near Water Shallot in my entire life.  

The thought nagged at me as I tossed and turned in bed.  I wanted to leave the city and see the world and yet ... Dad was right.  It would have been so much easier if he was one of the wretched fathers from the romance novels, the ones who hit and hexed their daughters for daring to have a single teeny-tiny independent thought.  I could have turned my back on such a monster and walked away without a single regret, never returning to beg his forgiveness or rub his nose in my successes.  But he meant well.  I knew he did.  

It didn’t make it any easier to take.

I half-expected to find the door locked, when I woke and dressed for the day, but it opened as easily as always.  The mansion still felt empty as I made my way down to breakfast, Alana looking as if she was constipated as she munched through a plate of eggs and bacon.  The look she shot me was anything but friendly.  Dad had probably shut her out of whatever he was planning, if only to ensure he got all the blame.  It wasn’t the first time he’d done that - I’d heard her grumbling so many times I’d lost count - but this time I knew more than she did.  I didn’t want to talk, so I poured myself a cup of coffee and picked up the morning newspaper.  The ballroom disaster was still on the front page.  The cynic in me wondered if our rivals had managed to bribe the editors.

“There’s nothing new in the paper,” Alana said.  “They’re just saying the same they said yesterday, just in a slightly different way.”

“So ... no change there.”  I scanned the paper, then decided she was right.  None of the articles added anything, save for a minor note that a dressmaker was being sued for something that had nothing to do with us.  “Perhaps we should offer bigger bribes.”

Alana snorted.  “Dad wants you to report to his office, after breakfast,” she said.  “What did you do?”

I hid my amusement.  Alana was the only one of us who’d ever been called to the office for actual punishment.   Even Cousin Sigmund had been spared that, although - from what his father had been shouting as he frog-marched the young idiot out of the mansion - I doubted he’d had a very pleasant few weeks.  I felt a flicker of bitterness, remembering how my distant relative had made me feel.  He’d deserved everything he’d gotten and more.

And you wouldn’t have been tricked by him if you hadn’t wanted to believe, my thoughts mocked me.  He took advantage of you.

I clenched my teeth, then ordered toast and ate it slowly.  Dad wouldn’t expect me immediately.  He would have had no qualms about ordering a maid to wake me if he’d wanted to see me at once.  The toast tasted like ashes, a grim reminder of everything that had happened in the last two days.  Alana chatted gaily about nothing, listing the handful of remaining parties she had to attend before Magus Court resumed in the end of the summer.  I hoped she’d have fun.  She didn’t have to stay in North Shallot.

“Good luck,” Alana said, when I finished.  “I’ll see you afterwards.”

I made a rude gesture at her back, then turned and hurried up the stairs.  I didn’t think I was in trouble.  Dad and Mum had never hesitated to ground us - or set us to cutting up potion ingredients - if they felt we needed discipline.  But ... I still felt as if I was walking to my doom.  Dad wasn’t one of the horrible fathers from the tales, yet ... he could still have decided it was better to confine me rather than let me run straight into a kidnapper’s arms.  I was torn between a sudden desire to run and a determination to face my fate with unflinching determination.  The door loomed up in front of me again and I knocked.  This time, it opened immediately.

“Cat,” Dad said.  “Come on in.”

I blinked.  A man sat in one of the chairs.  “Magister Niven?”

Magister Lawrence Niven smiled at me.  “Cat,” he said.  “It’s been a while.”

I nodded, deeply shocked.  Magister Niven was here, in my father’s private office?  We weren’t related ... were we?  It was possible, I supposed, but he’d never mentioned it.  A natural-born child could still claim some advantages, if he knew who’d fathered him ... I remembered myself and hastily dropped a curtsy.  Magister Niven was more than just a teacher.  He was the only person, apart from myself, who knew the truth about how magic really worked.

“Cat, please close the door and take a seat,” Dad said, every inch the powerful aristocrat in his seat of power.  “We have much to discuss.”

I did as I was told, my thoughts spinning.  Magister Niven ... was he a very distant cousin?  Or ... the only other reason I could imagine for letting him anywhere near the office was a need for complete security.  And yet, the other offices should have been secure enough ... probably.  I knew, better than most, that there was no such thing as a permanent defence.

“It was my first inclination to reject Magister Niven’s suggestion, even though it doesn’t really come from him,” Dad said.  He sounded so composed it was hard to tell if he was annoyed.  “If you want to say no, after he tells you what he wants, you may do so.  The politics can be smoothed either way.”

I frowned, shifting on the hard wooden chair.  If the suggestion didn’t come from Magister Niven ... who had suggested it?  Magister Niven was known for being an independent thinker.  There were few people, including the Castellan himself, who could give Magister Niven orders and expect them to be obeyed.  The king?  There weren’t many other suspects.

“That’s true.”  Magister Niven shrugged.  “The choice must be yours.  If you want to say no, then say so.”

“I will.”  I wondered what Dad had told him, while they’d been waiting.  How long had Magister Niven been in the office?  Alana hadn’t known he was there or she would have pitched a fit.  “But I’ll listen to you first.”

Magister Niven smiled, then leaned forward.  “As you know, the secrets of the long-gone empire have always interested me.  I’ve been part of a group - an international group - charged with maintaining a watch on the ruins of the empire, including the abandoned cities, and studying them to determine what actually happened.  The truth remains generally unknown, although many researchers have speculated wildly indeed.”

I tensed.  I didn’t dare look at Dad.  I knew what had happened to the Thousand-Year Empire, all those centuries ago.  If Dad knew ... I winced, inwardly.  The people who’d feared me, even when I’d been a twelve-year-old girl, would have a collective heart attack if they knew the truth.  Callam and I might be murdered very quickly if the secret got out.  And after that ... anyone who showed a trace of my talents would be killed before they realised what they were.  I could name several members of my own family who’d want me dead, too.

“Our group has always maintained its distance from both the monarch and the various aristocracies,” Magister Niven continued.  “This gives us a degree of independence, while allowing the outsiders to maintain a level of deniability if things were to go spectacularly wrong.  We are obliged to keep His Majesty, and the Great Houses, informed, but we do not have to follow their every command.”

“Get to the point,” Dad ordered.

Magister Niven smiled, thinly.  “The ruins of the Eternal City are very dangerous.  We have found it hard to maintain a permanent watch on the region.  It doesn’t help that the various kingdoms are solidly against setting up any kind of base within walking distance of the ruins, or making any sort of official overture to the people who live nearby.  They are quite suspicious of outsiders, not without reason.  The region is also infested with people looking for artefacts they can sell.”

“I’ve been there,” I said, reminding him.  My captors had hidden me in the ruins.  It had been a disconcerting experience.  “I know what it’s like.”

“Recently, we picked up reports of strange magics being sighted within the ruins,” Magister Niven said.  “At first, we believed them to be just random fluctuations, traces of once-great powers spluttering their last before dissolving into the ether.  Such flickers of magic have been recorded time and time again, from the moment the various kingdoms and magical networks organised themselves to the point they could start studying the ruins.  Some of them proved a threat, to the point our predecessors were required to leave the city.  It was our belief, proven by observation, that the presence of intruders within the ruins actually triggered the flickers.  We even came to believe - some of us, at least - that the city itself didn’t want us there.

“This time, however, the flickers have proven alarmingly persistent.  The first recorded incident was five months ago and since then ... the flickers have just kept sparking, sending out waves of magic across the region.  It feels, very much, as through a burned-out fire just reignited for no apparent reason.  The various kingdoms are deeply concerned.”

I frowned.  “If the flickers are caused by people entering the city, how do you know there isn’t someone there?”

“There is some disagreement on that point,” Magister Niven said.  “Most of us believe that anyone entering the city will not be able to endure it for very long.  It is just ... disconcerting.  Magic fluctuates there.  But others fear that the intruders, whoever they are, have discovered a way to survive within the city.  We simply don’t know.”

“I see.”  I thought about it for a moment.  I’d been on the very edge of the city.  I hadn’t had the time to head further into the ruins.  I’d found it unpleasant and Akin and Rose ... they hadn’t liked it at all.  “What does that have to do with me?”

“We’re putting together a team to visit the ruins and determine, once and for all, what is happening,” Magister Niven said.  “It was suggested that you might wish to accompany us.”

I looked at Dad.  He looked back, his face expressionless.

My thoughts churned.  “Why me?”

“There is no one alive who has more experience with Objects of Power than you,” Magister Niven said.  “You understand how they work in a manner no one, not even another forger, can match.  Furthermore” - he met my eyes - “you seem to be immune to the worst of the city’s effects.  Having you as part of the team might be very useful indeed.”

“I see.”  I swallowed, hard.  I’d wanted to leave the city, but ... I’d never considered heading straight for the Eternal City.  “What does the king have to say about it?”

“Officially, His Majesty is not directly involved,” Dad said.  “The team will be put together by Magister Niven and largely drawn from Jude’s.  Unofficially, the king has signalled his assent, as it is obviously important that we find out what’s happening before it’s too late.  I believe” - his dark eyes narrowed - “that you will be in no additional danger.  You’ll be protected to the best of the team’s ability.”

“Which is quite formidable,” Magister Niven assured me.  “You’ll be escorted by a number of powerful magicians.”

Which may be worthless, in the remains of the empire, I thought.  Magic was dangerously unpredictable within the ruins.  And that means I have to come along because the rest of the team might not be able to get close to the source.

My mind raced.  I couldn’t fault his logic.  Callam was the only other person who might be considered and he knew almost nothing of magic theory.  Isabella had taught him what she could, but the gap between them - even when she’d been no more than twelve - had been too wide to easily bridge.  No, I was the only person who could go.  I wondered, suddenly, just when Magister Niven had come up with the idea of asking me.  If he’d contacted my father only a few days ago, Dad would have been quite within his rights to tell him to get lost.

I closed my eyes, just for a second.  I was torn.  I really wanted to go.  And yet ... I didn’t.  The Eternal City was dangerous.  I’d been there ... I shivered at the memory.  There were plenty of horror stories about what happened to people who lived there and ... those stories, I knew, were true.  If anything, they were understatements.  Exposure to twisted and tainted magic meant certain death - or worse.  There was no guarantee I’d be immune to everything within the city.

And if it was a trap ...

I could say no.  Dad had said as much, and Magister Niven had confirmed it.  There was a risk in going out of the city, even with a powerful escort.  If I were to suffer a regrettable accident ... they’d say nice things during my funeral, I was sure, but they’d be glad I was gone.  I wasn’t a horrible person, not like Malachi Rubén ... his family had stricken him from the rolls and made a show of boycotting his funeral.  But my mere existence was a threat ... more, perhaps, than any of them realised.

Yes, I could say no.  But I knew I was going to say yes.

“Yes,” I said.  It would be an adventure, a trip outside the city before I got married.  Akin wouldn’t be able to accompany me, but perhaps Rose could.  I’d need some kind of chaperone or tongues would start wagging.  Again.  “I’ll come.”

Magister Niven smiled.  “We intend to leave in a week,” he said.  “Most of your needs will be provided, of course, but feel free to bring anything you want.  Just let me know so I can make arrangements to have it transported.”

“You will, of course, take oaths to protect her,” my father said, sternly.  “I expect you to defend her with your life, if necessary.”

“Of course,” Magister Niven said.  He stood and bowed.  “It will be my pleasure.”

Dad nodded.  He must have sent a silent summons, because one of his assistants opened the door a moment later.  Magister Niven wouldn’t be left alone in the house, not for even a second.  I stood and curtseyed, then watched him go.  My heart was beating rapidly.  I wondered, just for a second, if I’d made a terrible mistake.

I turned to Dad.  “Is he a relative?”

“No,” Dad said.  “But we had to have this discussion under the tightest security we could muster.”

He shook his head.  “I won’t lie to you, Cat.  I’m disappointed that he saw fit to make a request for your services, in a manner designed to make it very hard for us to say no, and that he intends to take you far outside the kingdom’s formal borders.  At the same time” - he held up a hand to keep me from interrupting - “he’s right.  If something is happening in the Eternal City, or what remains of it, we need to know before it’s too late.  And your presence may make the difference between success and failure.”

“I understand the risks,” I said.  “And I accept them.”

“It is always easy to say you understand the risks,” Dad said.  He smiled, rather wanly.  “I’ll let you explain matters to Akin.  Under the circumstances, you can invite him to the Workshop.  Alana will happily chaperone, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” I echoed.  Alana wouldn’t look the other way.  “I can ask Rose, too.”

“Rose has exams,” Dad reminded me.  “Your mother is going to be proctoring some of them, remember?”

I winced.  “I haven’t forgotten,” I said.  Rose wasn’t planning to become a potions mistress, and she’d have to request anything complex from the hospital’s staff, but she still needed a working knowledge of advanced brewing.  “I hope Mum will go easy on her.”

“You don’t want that,” Dad said.  “A person can retake an exam.  Better that than have someone die on your watch because you weren’t ready for them.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Chapter Ten

“Let me get this straight,” Akin said.  We sat together in the Workshop, Alana leaning against the wall and not even trying to pretend she wasn’t listening.  “Magister Niven - our former tutor - has arranged for you to accompany him to the Eternal City.  And you’re just ... going with him?”

“We’re not going alone,” I said.  Magister Niven had helpfully sent along a team manifest as well as a list of supplies.  “It isn’t as if we’ll be alone together.”

Akin scowled.  Magister Niven had been a master duellist in his day - and no one was entirely sure his day was now over - but that wouldn’t stop people talking behind his back.  If it had just been the two of us ... I shook my head.  The manifest made it clear there would be at least eight people on the team, perhaps more.  No one could cluck their tongues and wag their fingers in mock censure ... not openly, at least.  But people would wonder why I was leaving him behind.

“Maybe,” Akin said.  He glared into his tea.  I knew him well enough to be sure he resented Alana’s presence.  “You are aware of the dangers?”

I nodded.  “I haven’t forgotten the first time we visited.”

Alana chuckled.  “You make it sound as if you went on holiday.”

“We were kidnapped,” Akin said.  “And you could be kidnapped again.”

“Dad outlined the dangers,” I said, bluntly.  He’d gone through the risks in excessive detail, outlining everything from kidnap and rape to outright murder.  The lands surrounding the ruins were largely untamed, inhabited by isolated peasant villages and bandit gangs that cared nothing for the kingdoms.  It was hard to believe their ancestors had built the Thousand-Year Empire.  “And I accept the risks.”

“It isn’t a good idea,” Akin insisted.  “If you are lost ...”

I scowled.  I knew how he felt.  I wouldn’t be very pleased if he was riding off into a dangerous situation either, not if he was leaving me behind.  Akin had to be tempted to simply abandon his family and follow me, leaving the snake pit to take care of itself.  If he left Isabella in charge ... no, she’d never forgive him.  Callam wanted to go back home before the city wore him down or turned him into something unrecognisable.

Akin sipped his tea.  “The king might have guaranteed your safety,” he said, “but kings don’t always keep their promises.”

“His Majesty is no fool,” Alana said.  She’d met him, when Dad had taken her to be presented at Court.  “He knows better than to break his word openly.”

“He might not break his word over a minor thing,” Akin said.  “But this isn’t exactly minor.”

“Enough.”  I held up a hand.  “I’m going.  If there’s something happening in the ruins, I’m the best-suited to find out what’s going on and perhaps even dealing with it.  If not ... it’ll let me get out of the city for a short period before we get married.  I need to see some of the world.”

Akin scowled, but held his tongue.  I saw Alana smirk and felt a flash of annoyance.  She didn’t have a betrothed, not yet.  I understood precisely what Akin was thinking.  I just didn’t agree with him.  I wanted - I needed - to do something for myself before I spent the rest of my life forging Objects of Power.  And besides, the thought of something going horribly wrong in the ruins was terrifying.  I knew, better than anyone else, just how twisted the remains of the city were.

“I understand,” Akin said, finally.  He started to reach for me, then stopped himself.  “You’ll take everything you need with you?”

“Everything I think I might need,” I said.  I’d listed everything I could think of, then cut the list down mercilessly until it was manageable.  Akin or Alana or Magister Niven or someone could have cast a weight-reduction charm on my bags, but I was all too aware the charms would be unreliable in the ruins.  I could easily find myself suddenly squashed under the weight of all the junk I’d brought with me.  “Magister Niven said I could fill a trunk as well as my normal bag, so ...”

“Don’t forget to pack dresses,” Alana said.  “You never know where you might find yourself.”

I snorted.  I’d be wearing forger’s pants and a loose shirt ... scandalous almost anywhere else, but I wasn’t going to wear a formal dress in the ruins.  The very thought was absurd.  I supposed I owed Isabella a vote of thanks, although I wasn’t going to tell her.  The concept of young ladies wearing trousers was no longer unthinkable, thanks to her.  Who knew?  In a few years, maybe everyone would be wearing trousers.  And then ... maybe the men would start wearing dresses.  It wouldn’t be the first time something utterly ridiculous had become fashionable.

“I’ll settle for a change of underwear or two,” I said.  There were no permanent settlements - certainly none open to us - within a hundred miles of the city.  “We’re going to have to carry everything with us.”

“I think you should have concentrated on the flying machine,” Akin said.  “It would be very useful right now.”

“Yeah.”  I made a face.  It was easy to make a machine fly - I’d done that years ago - but harder to keep it functional.  The first flying craft I’d forged had almost killed all three of us.  I wasn’t sure - still - why it hadn’t worked perfectly.  I’d gone over the theory time and time again and found no trace of an error.  “But we’re going to have to make do without it.”

I settled back into my chair.  There were a lot of things I wanted to bring, starting with my vast collection of ancient books.  The tales of the Eternal City - flying mansions, towering steeples, mechanical meksect servants - had grown in the telling, but I was sure most of them had a grain of truth.  And yet ... I’d found maps of the city that bore no resemblance to the ruins, to the point I’d wondered if they were maps of a different city.  If they hadn’t had the same mountains and sheltered bays, I would have been sure of it.

Akin shot Alana a look, silently begging her to leave us alone for a few minutes.  Alana pretended not to understand.  I hid my irritation with an effort.  Alana still hadn’t forgiven me for turning her into a frog a few, short weeks ago, just to keep her from telling Dad I was helping Isabella save her family from certain ruin.  I had to compliment her on her revenge, particularly as there was no way I could complain.  She was just doing her duty.

“I will be there to see you off, if we don’t see each other beforehand,” Akin said.  “And I’ll have a look in the family archives to see if there’s anything you might find useful.”

“Please,” I said.  Akin’s family dated all the way back to the glory - and gory - days of empire.  If there was anyone in the city who knew anything about the ruins, anything that might have been kept from the rest of the world, it was them.  “We’re leaving in a week.”

And we should be able to find time to meet with a slightly more pliable chaperone, I thought, as we stood.  Perhaps I should have asked you to bring Isabella when you came.

Alana looked away, so quickly she was looking back at us before I registered her movement.  I bit down on the comment that came to mind, then led Akin towards the rear door.  Alana followed, keeping her distance.  I was tempted to zap her with my modified Frogmaker - or even Timekeeper - the moment she turned her back ... I shook my head.  Dad had been understanding the last time, although it hadn’t stopped him from grounding me.  This time ... he probably wouldn’t be remotely understanding.  Alana and I were supposed to be adults now.

“Good luck,” Akin said.  “And don’t let yourself fall into enemy hands.”

I closed the door behind him, suddenly feeling tired.  Had it really only been two days since I’d been presented?  It felt like longer, a lot longer.  I wanted to go back to my room and get some more sleep - it wasn’t as if I was required to attend an endless round of achingly polite lunches with prospective husbands, given that I was already betrothed - but I needed to pack.  I couldn’t risk leaving my tools in the hands of the maids.  They wouldn’t know what to do with them.

“There goes someone who isn’t happy,” Alana commented.  “I think he doesn’t want you to go.”

“I know he doesn’t,” I snapped.  I led the way back to the outer workroom, not caring if she followed.  “But I do have to go.”

“Why?”  Alana cocked her head.  “You know the risks.”

“Yes.”  I glared at her.  “Everyone has told me about the risks.  Everyone!”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Alana said, quietly.  “You don’t have to put your life in danger.”

“Something is happening within the ruins,” I told her, hiding my surprise.  “And we need to know what before it blows up in our faces!”

“It’s nearly a thousand miles away,” Alana said.  “What does it matter to us?”

“The waters near the city are lethal,” I reminded her.  “You’ve heard the stories.  Bad storms.  Green lightning.  Seas infested with horrific monsters.  Dead and rotting fish floating in the waves ... even zombies, the remnants of dead seamen crawling up from the bottom of the ocean to prey on the living.  Whatever destroyed the empire” - I heard my voice shake - “had an impact on the entire known world.  We have to know if it could happen again.”

Alana gave me an odd look.  “Why are you so scared?”

I cursed her perceptiveness under my breath.  “The Thousand-Year Empire relied upon Objects of Power,” I reminded her.  “They had great flying cities and flying machines that could travel between Shallot and the Eternal City in less than an hour and giant metal ships that laughed at storms and tides as they brought the benefits of civilisation to native populations right across the world.  Only distant Hangchow comes close to the sheer level of power the empire possessed, at its height, and we don’t know if either of them ever knew the other existed.  So ... why did the empire fall?”

Alana said nothing.  I turned away.

“Perhaps it was something to do with Objects of Power,” I said.  “Perhaps there’s something about them that, however inadvertently, caused a catastrophe.  Perhaps ... they made something that blew up in their faces.  Perhaps ...”

“They were making and using Objects of Power for generations,” Alana reminded me.  “And you’ve been studying them for years.  Do you have any reason to believe your work will explode ...?”

“No.”  I didn’t dare look at her.  “But I could be wrong.”

“They were the greatest magicians in the known world,” Alana said.  “What could they have missed?”

I shrugged.  “Perhaps there was something they didn’t know, something they simply didn’t have a clue existed.”

“Like what?”

Like the existence of a magic field, I thought, numbly.  And the simple fact there are no inherent magicians ...

I put the thought out of my head.  “Remember when Mum gave us the lecture on collecting our own ingredients?”

Alana made a face.  “Yes ...?”

“Dragon’s Wart and Mayfly Leaves look very much the same,” I said.  Mum had shown us the two time and time again, drilling us in the handful of tiny differences until we could do it in our sleep.  “But if you mix them up, you’ll either brew a batch of poison instead of potion or cause an explosion.  And if you put the wrong one in, without being sure of what you were using, you might kill yourself.”

I shrugged.  “And if you didn’t know that Mayfly Leaves existed, you might assume you were holding a bunch of Dragon’s Wart and blow yourself sky high.”

“I’d check,” Alana objected.

“You wouldn’t know you needed to check,” I said.  “And they might have had the same problem on a much larger scale.”

“I doubt it,” Alana said, frostily.  “Cat, I really think you should stay here.”

I resisted the urge to draw my spellcaster and zap her.  Again.  “Are you telling me to stay for my own safety, as a loving sister, or for the good of the family?”

“Both.”  Alana put her hands on her hips.  “There are no good reasons to put yourself at risk, as you know perfectly well.  We stand to gain little and lose much.  Losing you ...”

That must sting, I thought.  Six years ago, Alana had feared my lack of magic would hamper her marriage prospects.  Now ... it had to gall her that my marriage would shape the future of two Great Houses.  And if something happened to me ... I sighed.  She wasn’t wrong, I supposed, but it didn’t matter.  I have to go anyway.

“Alana ...”  I looked up.  “I am engaged.  Our marriage cannot be long delayed.  This is the one chance I have to go outside the city, before I get married.  And ... it does have to be done.”

“So you say,” Alana said.  Her eyes bored into mine.  “But it isn’t a good idea.”

I turned away, silently dismissing her.  I heard her mutter a word she really shouldn’t know behind me - Mum would wash her mouth out with soap if she overheard - and stalked off, probably to protest to Dad.  It wouldn’t reflect well on her ... I shrugged, mentally.  She did have a point.  I was taking a risk.  But I didn’t have a choice.  

I stepped over the red line and walked into my inner workshop.  A handful of Objects of Power waited.  I opened a sealed drawer and produced a collection of components.  Put together, by someone like me, they’d make a Whirlpool.

My heart sank as I placed the components on the workbench and collected enough spares to make it difficult for anyone to work out what I intended to do.  I’d misled Alana and everyone else, when I’d insisted I needed to know what had happened to the empire.  I already knew what happened.  A long-dead Zero had built an Object of Power designed to suck up all the magic within a certain region, causing every other spell within the area to suffocate through lack of power.  And the entire city had come tumbling down.

Worse than that, I thought.  The effect spread far beyond the city limits.

I scowled as I packed the components before stowing them in my toolkit.  The damage shouldn’t have extended that far, if my calculations were correct.  There’d been no reason to think the entire empire would collapse.  And yet, it had.  The continents of Maxima and Minima were scattered with the wreckage of ruined cities and long-dead installations with purposes forgotten in the mists of time.  I couldn’t understand it.  The days following the collapse were poorly documented, with little more than rough notes of uprisings and civil wars and general chaos.  Why had the entire world suddenly gone mad?

The thought taunted me as I collected the rest of my tools.  As far as I could tell, Whirlpool didn’t destroy magic permanently.  The magic field flowed into the gap as soon as the Object of Power was deactivated.  The ruins of the Eternal City weren’t free of magic.  It behaved oddly there - and spells simply couldn’t be trusted - but it was unquestionably present.  And yet ... the magic was different.  What if it had fallen back into the wrong pattern?  Or ... or what?

We need to know what’s really going on, I thought.  If the rubble was constantly shifting, it was possible newer spellforms were being created - briefly - before falling apart again.  Or ... I didn’t know.  I wasn’t even sure why the magic was tainted in the first place.  I’d been reluctant to experiment.  And then we have to decide if we really want to tell the world.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought.  The Great Houses depended on magic.  The prospect of losing it terrified them.  People would commit suicide, rather than be permanently barred from using their magic.  If they discovered the truth - if they discovered their powers could be taken away by a tiny Object of Power - they would stop at nothing to bury it again.  They would stop at nothing to bury me.  I wondered, not for the first time, what my family would do if they knew the truth.  I didn't want to know.

I rang the bell for the footmen - they’d carry my bag and trunk to the lobby, where they’d be stowed until Magister Niven’s team collected them - and then headed for the door.  Mum would be back soon and I was due to join her for dinner, which probably meant she was going to suggest I didn’t go either.  I wasn’t looking forward to it.  Mum worried about all of us, but particularly me.  I knew that better than I cared to admit.

And I have to find a way to spend some private time with Akin, I thought.  My lips tingled in happy memory.  He’ll be staying behind, without me or Isabella or anyone he can really trust.

My heart sank, again.  And how much would he trust me, I asked myself, if he realised what I’d kept from him?