by A. W. Exley
As the carriage rolled to a stop, Jasper jumped down and held out a hand for Dawn. They walked slowly to the front door as Dawn craned her neck to take in the imposing facade. She couldn’t guess as to when it might have been constructed.
Gargoyles stood atop gutters and drains, stone eyes watching all who came and went. Ravens clustered on the parapets and chatted to one another, perhaps sharing gossip from around the globe. The windows were narrow, as though to keep either sunlight, or arrows, at bay. The stone of the house was weathered by the salt-laden air to a mottled grey. Spots of lichen clung in shady patches, and the entire structure seemed organic, as though an enormous gargoyle had shifted into a house shape and lay down to sleep.
The butler opened the door before they reached the threshold. “If you will follow me, please, Lord Seton, Miss Uxbridge.”
Dawn stopped just inside the entranceway and couldn’t make her feet move any farther. She had lived a humble life with her parents in their modest townhouse in Whetstone. Although she had resided at the Ravenswing manor for some months now, she still had to adjust to its size and the number of servants required to keep the household running.
Despite its outward appearance, the High Warder lived in something more akin to a castle or a palace. She wasn’t sure which word better described it, since both were outside her realm of experience. It appeared large from the outside, but was cavernous when you stepped within.
A magnificent double staircase curled around each side of the entranceway and met in the middle before splitting off again and climbing higher. Like the Ravenswing house, this one also had a domed light well.
The scene above Dawn’s head was picked out in stained glass and gave her the impression that she was standing on the bottom of the ocean. Waves in tones of blues and greens swirled around her. Seaweed became an underwater forest that filtered the distant sunlight. Fish in sharp tones of orange and yellow were birds hiding among the boughs.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, craning her head back to take it all in. With the sun pouring through the cut glass and the occasional cloud drifting across the sky, the floor under their feet rippled with watery shadows.
The butler coughed into his hand. “His Grace is awaiting you, my lord.”
“His Grace? He’s a duke?” Dawn whispered to Jasper.
“Yes. Duke of Fairlie and reports directly to the queen.”
Jasper tugged on Dawn’s hand, and she let herself be led towards dark-panelled doors. She imagined meeting the High Warder was the equivalent of an invitation to Buckingham Palace to meet the queen.
“Do I curtsey when we meet him?” she asked as a moment of panic gripped her. She hadn’t thought to ask about the etiquette and protocols of the meeting and would have to rely on what she could remember from the Ladies’ Handbook for dealing with nobles.
“No. Just be yourself.” Jasper moved her hand to the crook of his arm.
The butler flung open the double doors and announced them. “His lordship the Earl of Seton and Miss Uxbridge to see you, Your Grace.”
The High Warder sat on a dark brown chesterfield sofa before a fireplace that was so high and broad it could be used to roast gargoyles.
He rose and turned. “Bring tea, Figgins. I’m sure our guests are parched.”
The High Warder showed visible signs of age in his tall and elegant frame. His hair thinned to grey and he kept it swept back from his face. Or perhaps an ocean breeze did it for him. His face was cracked and lined, and he bore a scar down the left side that ran from temple to jaw. Eyes of a deep green regarded Dawn with a trace of warm humour.
He held out a hand to Jasper. “Lord Seton, it is good to meet you again.”
“Your Grace.” The men exchanged a firm handshake, and then Jasper placed a hand in the small of Dawn’s back. “This is Miss Dawn Uxbridge, my mate and the heart of our sanctuary.”
Dawn glanced at Jasper. Her knees wanted to buckle in a curtsey. The man was a duke, which was as close to royalty as you could get. She held out a hand and found it clasped in two large warm ones. For some reason, she thought a saltwater undine would be cold.
“My pleasure, Miss Uxbridge. I was told of the changes in the Seton clan, and that you have restored your Ravensblood tree to full health.” He let her hand go, but his attention stayed fixed on her.
“I am honoured that the tree chose me as its heart and that I was able to heal it.” She had so many questions. If he’d known their tree ailed, why had he done nothing to help? Dawn sought Jasper’s hand and laced her fingers with his, hoping that grounding herself with his touch would stop her from interrogating the High Warder. Bombarding the duke with unwanted questions would be the height of rudeness.
“Please, take a seat. We have much to catch up on.” He gestured to the sofas with their rolled arms and punched button backs.
Dawn chose one adjacent to the empty fireplace that had a view across the room and out the narrow, but tall, window.
Jasper sat next to her and leaned his forearms on his knees. “Our clan struggles with only a few Warders, yet I have recently heard of two Soarer clans with increased numbers. Is this a trend in all areas, or only the northern parts of England?”
The High Warder leaned back on his sofa and stretched one arm along the upholstery. “All Warders are experiencing declining numbers while Soarers have, well, soared. I believe it is the first time in our recorded history that the pendulum has swung so far out of balance. We live in troubled times as we wait for the imbalance to correct itself.”
The butler brought a tea tray and set it on the low table before them. The duke waved him away. “Would you mind, Miss Uxbridge?”
Dawn busied herself pouring tea. She wondered if the ocean would remain calm or whip up into a tempest.
“Is that why I didn’t receive any assistance when Soarers murdered my brother and attacked my sister?” Jasper clasped his hands together in front of him.
Dawn was glad she hadn’t sipped her tea yet, as she would have spat it out. Jasper appeared intent on needling the saltwater undine.
The duke stared at Jasper with narrowed eyes. “That was a most unfortunate event. But the heart of your sanctuary told us you were all in mourning and that she would notify us when she wanted our assistance to pursue the murderers.”
“Ava was a party to the conspiracy. Why did you not respond to me? All these years and I never received a communication from you until a few months ago.” Jasper leaned back as Dawn pushed a cup of tea into his hands.
If he had to hold the delicate porcelain, there was less chance his anger would shift his form into teacup-smashing stone.
“We thought it a family problem, best dealt with among yourselves. That and we had other issues that dominated our time.” The High Warder thanked Dawn with a waggle of his eyebrows as she handed a cup to him.
Jasper sipped his tea, and some of the tightness in his shoulders dissipated. “Something more important than Soarers murdering a Lord Warder?”
“Yes. Forty years ago, we were rather preoccupied with stopping a Soarer conspiracy to murder the young Queen Victoria.” A small vortex swirled in his teacup as he stirred in the milk without needing a spoon.
Jasper let out a low whistle. “That’s the second queen they have tried to murder.”
He blew across the top of his tea and a drift of steam spiralled away from his pursed lips. “Quite. They do seem to have a strong objection to women rulers. We never had them trying to replace any of our troublesome kings. More’s the pity.”
Jasper drummed one hand against his thigh as he considered their options. “I came here to request access to the Warder archives. Dawn and I are searching for anything that connects my father’s past to the Hamiltons. We want to understand why they struck against my brother and sister.”
He stared at them for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. Finish your tea and then Figgins can show you through to the library.”
Dawn sipped her tea and glance
d from gargoyle to undine. Contrary to what she’d expected from the two Elementals butting heads, they appeared civilised as they sipped tea and ate delicate biscuits.
It was calm sailing. For now, at least.
16
Dawn sipped her tea and mustered up the courage to add her own request to their visit. “If it is possible, Your Grace, I would very much like to visit your Ravensblood tree. Jasper tells me it is the original one, and I wish to learn all I can about my unique position to better serve my family.”
It would seem the ocean was in a placid mood today. He beamed at Dawn as though her request pleased him. “When you have had enough of dusty books, ask Figgins to fetch Her Grace. I’m sure Enid would be delighted to show you our tree.”
Once they had finished their tea, which surprisingly was all it took to catch up on forty years of Warder history, they were shown through to a library with vast soaring stacks of books. Narrow catwalks ran around the room to give access to the upper reaches, although ladders weren’t entirely necessary when you had an Elemental at hand who could fly.
“Where do we start?” Dawn asked as her gaze wandered over the thousands of books before them.
Jasper stood in the centre of the room and stared at one wall. “With the one thing we know for certain: the plot against Elizabeth Tudor. We need a full accounting of all the Soarers involved in the conspiracy.”
There appeared to be a chronological order to the books, and it didn’t take long to find those for the late sixteenth century. Jasper selected two large tomes and laid them both on the desk. “These are the testimonies of those involved. Which one do you want?”
Dawn glanced at the two books, so similar with their worn leather covers and gilt lettering. She rested a hand on the closest one. “I’ll start here.”
She dragged the book closer and took a seat. The penmanship was exquisite, but it took some adjustment before her mind could scan the lines of ornate script and old English. It was incredible to her that the monarch who’d reigned so long ago had been saved by the actions of Jasper’s mother and father.
A footman who moved on silent feet brought them another tray of refreshments. No biscuits that might leave crumbs, however, nor scones that might dribble butter over the priceless books.
Dawn read of the group of Soarers who’d plotted to murder Elizabeth and set their own replacement on the throne. What could have been an exciting story worthy of a novel was reduced to dry wherefores and hithertos. Two hours had passed in the peaceful library when one name leapt off the page at her.
“Here.” She looked up to meet Jasper’s curious grey gaze. She kept her finger on the sentence and read it aloud for her mate: “‘Ignatius Hamilton is henceforth sentenced to be executed for high treason. His brother, Francis Hamilton, has been found by this committee to have unclean hands and is banished for a period of two hundred years.’”
Jasper let out a low whistle. “You found it.”
She peered at the words under her fingertip. “What do they mean by unclean hands?”
Jasper rose from his seat and moved to read over Dawn’s shoulder. “That they suspected his involvement, but had no direct evidence. The timing fits, too. This pronouncement was made in 1580, and Francis Hamilton established his family in Kessel a hundred years ago in 1780.”
Dawn pushed the book away from her. “Exactly when his banishment ended. Did your father not say anything?”
Jasper shook his head. “Julian, Lettie, and I were in France at the time. When we returned, it was only briefly mentioned. I suspect my father thought Hamilton had served his sentence. We watched, but made no move against them, which ultimately was our downfall.”
“Do you think Ava was part of the Hamilton clan? She spoke of how your father destroyed her family.” Dawn shuddered to remember the final confrontation with the woman intent on killing the Setons’ Ravensblood tree.
“There might be mention of her in here. Perhaps she was related to Ignatius?” Jasper scanned the pages open before Dawn.
Mentally, Dawn pulled all the pieces of information together. “Then forty years ago, when another assassination attempt was made against our queen, the Hamiltons struck against your family.”
Jasper crossed his arms and leaned his hip on the desk as he regarded Dawn. “Coincidental timing, was it not? Makes you suspect that yet again a Hamilton had knowledge of a plot to remove the queen and then used the opportunity to strike against us. As the duke said, his Warders were busy saving Victoria and couldn’t be spared to assist us.”
“Do we now find the accounts of that incident to see who was involved?” Dawn glanced at the bookcases. It would appear that her day would be spent seated at the desk when she longed to have dirt under her nails.
Jasper leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t I summon Figgins to find Her Grace? I can find the books, or ask the duke for the firsthand account, since he was directly involved.”
“Would you mind terribly?” Out of politeness she felt she should stay, but how she yearned to touch the most ancient of trees.
Jasper smiled, then strode to the bell pull and gave it a good tug to summon the butler.
Fifteen minutes later, Dawn found a woman waiting for her in the entranceway. She was of a similar height to Dawn, but broad in the shoulders, as though she’d spent many years wielding a sword. Russet hair was streaked with silver, and lines radiated out from her slate-coloured eyes.
She held out a hand to Dawn. “I’m Enid. His Grace said you would like to visit our Ravensblood tree. I will escort you through our maze.”
The women shook hands as men do. The other woman had a firm grasp that could crack walnuts.
“Your Grace—” Dawn started.
“Enid, please. Three hundred years and I’m still not used to being treated like royalty. Centuries ago, Moray and I were simple fisherfolk with only a wee boat.” Enid winked as she kept hold of Dawn’s hand.
“Have you always lived in Dorset?” Dawn asked as they walked out the front door and along the crushed shell driveway. Enid steered them towards one side of the property.
The older Elemental spoke as they walked. “No. We were both born in Lincoln, or Lincylene it was called back then. The Romans had called it Lindum Colonia, but I’m certainly not old enough to remember that.”
Dawn stared at her new companion. “I cannot imagine the changes you have seen in the world over the centuries.”
The scattering of trees became thicker and closer together as they walked, until they trod an earthen path. Dappled light struggled to penetrate the thick canopy.
“The only constant in life is change.” Enid held a branch out of the way for Dawn.
Dawn still struggled to believe that she had centuries to spend with Jasper now that he shared his life force with her. She was sure it would take centuries simply to learn all about the Warder and Soarer history and culture. “If you don’t mind me asking, how does one become the High Warder?”
Enid’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. “In Moray’s case, there was a bit of a scuffle among three Warders, and the poor locals were plagued by earthquakes and floods over several weeks. Once we knocked some sense into the boys, they settled down and had a vote.”
As they turned down another path lined with bright green ferns, Dawn paused. She cast around for a clipped yew hedge like they had in Alysblud. “Where is the maze?”
Enid laughed out loud with a rich throaty noise, and high above, birds cawed along with her. Her slate eyes twinkled with amusement. “We’ve been walking in it for fifteen minutes now.”
Dawn stopped and looked around. At first, she thought they walked through a forest to reach the maze. It had never occurred to her that the forest was the maze.
It was subtle. In places, the trees were so close together even a child wouldn’t be able to slip between them. Other patches were more open where shafts of sunlight and a clear path encouraged one to walk that way. Nodding ferns and spreading violets covered
the ground and discouraged shortcuts across their foliage.
At times, they encountered a fork in the worn path, and Enid led them down one side and not the other, although both looked equally well travelled.
Dawn laid a hand on a rough trunk as she stared up through the canopy. “I cannot imagine how long it took for this to grow.”
“Centuries. Oak, birch, and elm were planted around our Ravensblood tree. Millennia ago, this entire area was thick forest. But our predecessors knew it would not always be like that. Over time, they formed the maze by thinning some trees or planting others closer together. Some paths are blocked, others are forked. With the dense foliage, you cannot look up and use the sky as a guide. Unless you know this place, you would soon become lost.” A Cor-vitis glowed over Enid’s arms as she spoke of the forest. Her love for the land and flora flowed over her skin and lit the mystical plant’s markings upon her.
At length, they approached what appeared to be a solid wall made of birches with silvery bark. There was a slender gap in the wall, as though one of the guardians had gone for a walk. Enid smiled at Dawn and beckoned her through.
Dawn stepped between the birches and then stopped. She stood and stared in wonder. The birches made a circle, holding hands to protect the tree within. The Ravensblood was breath stealing in both scale and appearance. It made the three-hundred-year-old tree in Alysblud seem a young sapling by comparison.
The trunk on the Dorset Ravensblood could easily be hollowed out and house a family of four in comfort. Its canopy resembled the ocean at their backs, as though an unseen gardener had trimmed the foliage to echo the waves. It rose up, swooped down, and rose up again in a circular pattern.
The flaming leaves were such deep reds and oranges that they bordered on black and brown. But it was the trunk that drew Dawn and made her mouth gape. Fissures in the bark contorted around knotholes and gave the appearance of an ancient face peering out at the world.