I reach out without looking, but the same voice says again, this time startled, “Jessa? Is that you?”
Focusing on the servant—had I forgotten to look them in the eyes?—I realize with a shock that he is none other than Kelen.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp, terrified that this, too, is a ploy of Lord Downpike’s. If he’s found out Kelen was a childhood friend, my first kiss, part of my own island . . .
He gives me an odd look. “I’m working. I could ask what you are doing here, though.” He nods down at my dress, raising his eyebrows.
“Oh.” I try to wave my hand, but even the gesture fails me. “I—I’m here with—a friend.”
“A friend.” His flat tone leaves no question as to what he thinks of that. “It appears you’ve made better friends than me in your short time here. I’ve been by to see you.”
“I know, I’m so sorry. Things have been—well, complicated. Insane, actually.”
He nods, one black eyebrow raised in condemnation. “I see.”
I can’t stand the judgment in his face, not after Ernest’s criticisms. “You don’t understand, I—”
He holds up his free hand. “No, I understand. I knew our mothers, too, remember?”
“It’s not like that!”
“He’ll use you up and then throw you away, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because in the end you aren’t one of them and you never will be. No one here will ever see you as an equal—no matter how many fine dresses you accept.”
I can feel tears building, both at his accusations and at the deep-rooted suspicions that he’s right.
I take his free hand in mine. “Please, let me explain. Come and see me at the hotel, I’ll tell you everything. It’s not—” I find myself once again on the verge of saying “I didn’t choose this.” But . . . it’s a lie. I chose to come here tonight with Finn. I chose to let him into my life. I wanted to, much as I protested otherwise.
“I hope whatever you are getting is worth it.” His eyes cut me to the core.
I startle as someone touches the small of my back. “Who is your friend?” Finn asks.
Blushing deeply, I drop my grip on Kelen’s hand and stammer, “This is Kelen. We grew up together.”
Kelen bows low at the waist, while Finn barely inclines his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I must steal Jessamin.” He turns, taking me with him, and I crane my neck to watch Kelen, whose face is bathed in stony disappointment as he watches Finn lead me to the other side of the room.
“What is so important? Is it Eleanor?”
“No, no, she’s fine. On her way home. I thought you might like something to eat.”
He’s pulling me along, guiding me with his hand on my back, and I stop. “That’s why you had to take me away without bothering to speak with someone I’ve known for years?”
Finn avoids my gaze. “I didn’t think it wise for you to be seen with him.”
Anger overpowers shame, flaring hot inside my chest. “Because he’s a servant? Because he’s not fine enough for this fancy room and these fancy people? Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but neither am I!”
Scowling, Finn grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd as though I am a petulant child. We enter a small side room with furniture draped in protective sheets.
“Why are we in here? Am I embarrassing you?”
“Don’t be petty, Jessamin. Of course I don’t care that he’s a servant.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
“Then why the rush to keep me from speaking with him in front of all of your noble peers?”
“I care nothing about them! Forgive me if I’d rather not see you speaking with a handsome man who is clearly interested in you!”
I stop, mouth open. Finn was jealous? That’s what this is about? “Kelen is an old friend.” Or used to be. I’m not sure he can ever forgive me for what I’ve become, not after what this country did to his mother.
Finn takes a deep breath, calming his features. “It’s not safe. That’s all. Lord Downpike could see you chatting and identify Kelen as a potential target. There is a reason I have no close friends, no history with anyone. I can only protect so many people at once, Jessa.”
I narrow my eyes at him using my nickname. “So that is what you are doing with Ma’ati and Jacky Boy? Taking them under your protection?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And me?”
“Why would I not want to protect you?”
“Yes, taking away my job, putting me in a room I cannot afford on my own, the walks in the park, the meals, constantly hanging around the library and the hotel, dressing me like a spineless Alben lady and parading me around. You are doing precisely what I asked you not to, precisely what I refused to accept when you wanted to hide me away in some country estate. You’re trying to control me!” And I’ve let him. I’ve pretended to hate it, pretended at resisting it, but here I am. I think back on how happy I was to be on his arm earlier this evening and I cannot understand who I am or what I have done.
I know how I felt when I saw him waiting for me in the hotel. I can’t deny that. But I let myself be pulled along in the wake of people with more power than I will ever have. Kelen is right. I will never be an equal here.
Finn’s calm demeanor shatters, and he takes a step directly in front of me, forcing me to look up to see his face. “I’m not trying to control you! Spirits below, I’m trying to court you! Can you not see the difference?”
I lean back, needing some space between us so I can think, so I can breathe. “But . . . but you don’t want—I mean, you’re trying to break the shadow connection. I thought you wanted to be free of it. We agreed.”
He throws his hands in the air. “I told you how rare it is. I have only known one couple my entire life who shadowed each other.”
“Then ask them how to break it!”
His shoulders slump, and he turns away from me. “They’re dead. My parents were shadowed from the moment they met, and they loved each other more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Clearly I was a fool to dream I could have the same thing.”
His admission that he wants me, a relationship with me, leaves me scrambling to sort out how to respond. I shouldn’t be so shocked, but Albens are never so open about how they feel. “I can’t—I don’t want—I never wanted my mother’s life. I don’t want to be an Alben’s dusky prize.”
He recoils as though I’ve struck him. “For all you think we judge you, I have never once cared about the color of your skin or the country of your birth. But it would appear you cannot get past mine.” He reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out his deck of cards, letting them drop to the floor. “I will no longer try to be anything more than a burden to you. But don’t think for one moment I will stop protecting you.”
He moves to storm from the room, then stops, turns toward me, and bows, a cold, detached look on his face like the night of the gala. It hurts far more than I ever thought possible. “Good-bye, Jessamin.”
I watch him leave, too stunned to speak. Leaning down, I pick up the top card from the deck strewn on the carpet. It’s LOVERS, the edges far more worn than any of the others, as though it had been held and looked at a thousand times over.
Twenty-two
I PACE MY ROOM—NO, NOT MY ROOM, THE ROOM Finn paid for. It’s been a week since I saw him last. I’ve studied enough for a lifetime to busy my thoughts, but nothing helps.
Kelen’s and Ernest’s criticisms fly constantly through my mind, but still do nothing to push out Finn’s final words and the look on his face.
I can’t admit that I was in the wrong with Finn.
But I can’t help feeling that perhaps I was.
I do not even have Sir Bird here as a comfort, and I refuse to write Finn merely about seeing my bird. I sit, defeated, at the small dressing table and shuffle the deck of cards for the hundredth time. I cut the deck and mix it, my fingers now adept where seven days ago they fumbled through it. I close my
eyes and draw a card at random.
FATE.
I always draw FATE.
But fate is a slippery thing, is it not? After all, had Ma’ati and Jacky Boy not left Melei and traveled separately to a new life here, they never would have met. They would have missed each other and their supreme happiness.
Wouldn’t they have? If they’re fated to be together and one of them had stayed, would they have ever met? Or would they have found someone else who made them smile on the grayest days?
Consider Kelen. Had we both stayed on the island, we might have continued our summer of fast-beating hearts and stolen kisses. Perhaps we would be engaged now, against Mama’s wishes.
I could take it as a sign of fate that, against all odds, we were reunited here.
But Finn. If I had stayed on the thoroughfare that day, not taken the alley, I would never have met him. The thought of never knowing him bothers me, leaves me feeling restless and aching.
I trace my finger down the card, on the length of dark path stretching into the trees. Paths do not only go one way. We choose which direction to take. I refuse to believe that any outside forces can determine the course of my life.
Certainly I have been drawn into something bigger than myself, made a pawn in a game spanning centuries of families unrelated to my own. But I still choose which direction to take, just as Finn chooses, and even that horrible nightmare man Lord Downpike chooses. None of us are without options.
Ernest is right. I’ve been making choices, but I haven’t been deliberate or thoughtful about them. I’ve pretended that my actions influence only myself. They don’t.
I shuffle one last time. Cut the deck. Close my eyes and spread the cards across the table. I know before I open my eyes which card I have drawn.
FATE.
“Augh!” I knock the cards to the ground. I must get out of this blasted room.
I hurry out and down the servants’ stairs. When I get to the back hall I find the way blocked by all the hotel employees, crowding around, trying to see over one another.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
One of the chambermaids gives me a pinched and sour glare. “None of your business, milady.”
I push past her and run into Simon going the other way. His eyes are wide. “It’s Ma’ati! She’s hurt!”
Heart in my throat, I force my way through, not caring who I step on or elbow until I burst through into Ma’ati’s room. She’s crying silently, sitting on the edge of her bed while Jacky Boy tenderly cleans her arms. They’re covered in cuts and slices like tallies in a ledger. Her face has several long, seeping slits as well.
“What happened?” I kneel at her bedside, grabbing a cloth to help.
“Birds.” She closes her eyes, her face pale with shock. “I went out for vegetables and a whole flock of birds flew down at me. I couldn’t get away. It was like being caught in a storm—they were all around—”
“Shh.” Jacky Boy strokes her hair. “It’s all right. Simon’s gone for the doctor. I’m here now.”
I rock back on my heels, numb and cold with despair. This is my fault, for not choosing a direction. I stood in the middle of the path and threw a tantrum because I did not want to be there. And because of my stubborn denial, first Eleanor and now Ma’ati have been hurt.
“Jacabo.” I pull him to the side as he stands to get a clean cloth. “You need to take the position from Lord Ackerly. Immediately. Go tonight, and take Ma’ati with you. It isn’t safe here.”
He frowns, narrowing his eyes. “What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”
“He will be a good employer and you’ll be happy and safe. Promise me you’ll go.”
“He hasn’t written for me yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll understand.”
Jacky Boy looks at Ma’ati, his face grave and worried and then nods. “I will. But what about you? I know you’re in trouble. I can read it on your face.”
I smile sadly and wave my hand. “I’ll figure it out. You take care of yourself and Ma’ati.”
Leaving her in Jacky Boy’s loving and capable hands, I walk in a daze back toward my room. I have two options, I know that now. I can run away, back to Melei the same way I ran here. Let Albion work out its problems without me.
Or I can . . . what? Claim a role in the middle of international strife? Openly face down Lord Downpike? Ernest was right about one thing: some voices don’t matter. And I’m afraid mine is one of them. I’m a woman, and a dark-skinned island rat at that. I have no power here.
Feeling bleak and despairing, I write a letter to Finn. No matter how he feels about me, I know he’ll help Jacky Boy and Ma’ati. Once they are safe, I’ll decide what to do about myself.
Now a matter of habit, as I pass the dressing table I grab the top card and flip it over. I stop, card still unseen in hand, a chill surging through my veins.
I knocked all of the cards to the floor before I left my room.
Trembling, I look down. In my hand, the fate card, but altered. This time in the middle of the path is a large black bird, its single yellow eye fixed on me. I pull another—and another—and another—all the same. There is a small calling card on the table next to the deck.
Little Rabbit,
Your friends are my friends. Thinking of you.
L. D.
Twenty-three
LORD DOWNPIKE WAS IN MY ROOM. COLD WITH terror, I run into the hall to check on Ma’ati again.
“Whoa!”
I stumble straight into someone. Strong arms circle me to keep me upright. Heart racing, I look up to see Kelen.
And immediately burst into tears. “Oh, Kelen.” I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.
“What’s wrong? What have they done to you?”
“Nothing, I—they who?”
“These ghost-faced spirit cursers, of course. I knew this would happen. They can’t see us without wanting to destroy us. Tell me who hurt you.”
I step away, wiping my eyes. “I can’t. I don’t want you anywhere near this. I won’t let you get hurt, too.”
“What do you think they can do to me that hasn’t already been done?” His dark eyes burn with hatred. “Was it that man? The one you were with at the symphony?”
“Finn? No. He’d never hurt me.”
Kelen scoffs. “Listen to yourself, Jessa. There isn’t a man on this whole spirit-blasted rock that wouldn’t hurt you if given the opportunity. They hate us, they always have, and they always will. We’re nothing to them.”
I shake my head. I know Finn would never hurt me. Eleanor would do anything to help me, too. “I have friends here.”
He laughs. “Friends? You’re a novelty to them. A pet. They’ll drop you as soon as you fall out of fashion.”
“You don’t know them.”
“I don’t have to. They’re Alben. That’s enough.”
His words strike straight through me. I would have said the same thing just weeks ago. I would have dismissed an entire country of people just because of their birth, the same way I have always felt dismissed.
“Come on,” Kelen says, taking my arm. “Tell me who hurt you and we’ll fix them. There’s no justice here but what we make for ourselves.”
“Kelen, no. You can’t.”
He grins. “You’d be amazed at what I can do. And then we’ll get you on a boat back to Melei, where you’ll be safe. Say the word and I’ll make it all better. You’ll never have to think about this country or anyone in it, ever again.”
And in that moment I know a simple truth: that is not what I want.
I squeeze Kelen’s hand, then step away. “I think I need to fight this one on my own.”
His mouth twists wryly. “You always had to be in control, didn’t you? Clever Jessa. Never could accept help.”
I offer him a regretful smile. “You know me.”
“No, I guess I really don’t.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and, shrugging his shoulders, walks away
.
That evening I pace the park, reading passages from my most recent school assignment: one of my father’s books, this one about the colonization of Melei. Little reading is done, though, between throwing it in a fit of rage against a tree and picking it up again to repeat the whole process.
I owe Finn an apology. The problem is that I have no idea how to find his front door. I can see the window where I climbed out, as well as the large oak tree that I jumped onto and scrambled down to the ground. But there’s no door anywhere on that section of connected town houses. I’ve already tried ringing the bell at both adjacent properties; neither was Finn’s. In fact, neither butler knew that Lord Ackerly lived anywhere in the area.
Nothing to be done for it. Tucking my skirts into my boots, I climb the tree. Mama scolded me, but I always knew the hours I put into perfecting this skill would be useful one day. After scooting down the branch nearest the window, I realize I’ll have to throw myself at it. If it’s locked I will be in a rather dangerous scrape.
Leaning as far as I can, I grab onto the sill and push the window open just as I lose my balance. I tip forward, falling into the room and landing with a hip-bruising thud on the black tile floor of Finn’s washroom.
Graceful, no. But effective.
Fixing my skirts and my blouse, I tuck the book under my arm and walk out of the washroom. The hall has more doors than I remember. I look for the library, but the first room I try is wrong. I back out, then stop, and slowly cross the threshold.
The walls are filled with art. More art than I’ve ever seen outside of a museum. And not just Alben art, studies of unsmiling people and unmoving fruit, placid and lifeless landscapes. Some of it is clearly Gallen, some Saxxone, and there . . .
I’m standing in front of the largest piece, a huge landscape painted on rough, inexpensive canvas, when Finn says, “Jessamin?” behind me, confusion coloring his voice.
I don’t turn around. “He dismisses our art.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
I wave the book in my hand without turning around. “My father. He has an entire section on the primitive arts of the Melenese people. He says our finest artists lack technique, lack the ability to translate the real world onto canvas. He can’t see that it’s not about transferring the world exactly how it is, but rather expressing how it feels.”
Illusions of Fate Page 13