Box of Secrets

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Box of Secrets Page 10

by Raquel Lyon


  Yours forever, L. x

  Piper sighed. Reading such personal words somehow felt intrusive. If Rodigan was Lambert’s father, it seemed this letter had been written by his mother, and he was the child, Bertie. She pictured the little boy growing up without his father and willed away a tear as she flipped to the next page.

  Dearest Rodigan,

  I realise that it has been many moons since my last correspondence, but I must inform you that the reward we received for your endeavour is long gone, and getting word to you is costly. I fear it may be difficult for me to contact you in the future. But do not worry about us. We will survive. Now that Bertie is older, I have returned to work at the palace, where talk of the prophecy is rife. Prince Oban begs you to fulfil your promise, and has vowed to bestow further recompense at its conclusion.

  Be advised we are both well. Bertie has begun his schooling. His teacher, Prago Dinnock, (I’m sure you remember him), has taken him under his wing and has grown very fond of the boy. Apparently, he is showing great promise for the Third Order. Perhaps not what we would have wished for him, but at least it will provide him with a noble trade. He has been asking when you will be returning from your quest, and I am running out of things to tell him. May I suggest you compose a story of your adventures to enclose with your next letter? It may keep his questions at bay for a while.

  With love, L. x

  Piper lay back, wishing she could share the letters with Lambert and ask him more about his life and how his mother’s words might have come into her father’s possession. Clearly her father’s concealment of these first few indicated they were of some importance and not merely an accidental acquisition. But why did he have them? Was Rodigan yet another of her father’s friends she knew nothing about? Was her father part of the secret mission, too? If so, what was it? She needed more pieces to the puzzle, and to get them, she needed Lambert—and not just for a few minutes every evening. She glanced at the box and huffed. Wherever the key was, she had to find it. If she made freeing Lambert her priority, she’d have all the time she needed with him to pick his brain.

  Before she could continue reading, a thunderous boom sounded below her. She ran to her door and threw it open to seek the source. Further along the corridor, another door opened and Todd emerged.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked him.

  He afforded her a cursory glance as he stepped into the corridor and closed his door behind him. “Yep.”

  “What was it?”

  “Grub’s up,” he said, grinning as he passed by.

  Of course. She’d forgotten all about the impending meal, and she hadn’t even had time to change. She ran after Todd, hoping no one would notice.

  “But what was the noise?” she asked, catching up to him halfway down the stairs.

  Todd looked at her as if she’d just got off the last bus and pointed to a large brass disc hanging in the corner of the hallway. “Dinner gong.”

  Piper followed Todd into the dining room, where the food was already steaming on the table.

  “Didn’t you say you were taking a shower?” Beth asked, giving her a once-over.

  “Yeah, I fell asleep,” she lied.

  “Then I hope you’re well refreshed. I have an exciting evening planned.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  LAMBERT HEAVED A FRUSTRATED sigh as his prison enclosed around him. The Spirits could not have been more unkind if they had thrown him to the Anfira. Everything had been going so well, and he would have given anything to spend a moment longer with Piper. He had known from the moment he met her that she was important, and now he knew why.

  She had professed not to know his key’s whereabouts, and despite wishing she did, he prayed she was being truthful. He liked her too much to believe she would lie to him. Either way, he had hope now: hope of freedom, hope of finding his father, and hope of returning home to present his mother with her dying wish.

  Prago was a solid man who had been as good a substitute father as any man could wish for. But he was not blood, and Lambert knew his mother’s heart lay elsewhere. She had paid the price to see that her son never went without the material necessities of life by suffering a loveless existence. Lambert had wanted to repay her sacrifice by giving her the one thing that would give her solace on her journey to the afterlife. Until now, he had failed her greatly, ensuring only that she was more alone than ever in her final days.

  He lay on the bed and willed sleep to come. Time always passed more speedily that way, and if he could sleep until next sunset, his waiting would seem like no time at all. But he could not rest. Piper’s face swam before his eyes. He tried to blink it away, not wishing to see a beautiful reminder of something beyond his reach, and silently prayed to the Spirits to be merciful and allow him more time with her on the morrow. They must know his intentions were never to bring harm to the Crown, however much he resented it being the cause of his family’s divide. No. The spirits had to be on his side. Why else would they have shown kindness in allowing his transportation to this Earthly realm? If he had had his magic, he would have summoned them to ask, but the box held more than just his body a prisoner: his magic was stuck within its walls, too, and nothing but the key could free it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  AFTER AN EXTREMELY SATISFYING roast-chicken dinner, Beth instructed Piper to follow her. Piper assumed Beth’s idea of an exciting evening would be to go to the library for another round of reading boredom, but they walked straight past the door without stopping. She raised her brows as she turned to Sophie, following quietly behind.

  “I don’t believe you’ve seen our ballroom yet,” Sophie said, with a smile.

  Beth pushed aside a set of double doors leading to a vast room with a high, arched ceiling. At the far end of it, a long table flickered under light cast down from the multitude of candles adorning it.

  “What’s going on?” Piper asked.

  “Now that we’ve discovered your heritage, it’s time to find your magic,” Beth said.

  Piper wasn’t surprised by Beth’s statement after the conversation they’d had over their evening meal. Mathanway’s book had provided the confirmation they both sought—that in her brief glimpse into her father’s location, Piper had been witnessing Chimmeris. All the clues had slotted together: the setting, the smell, the letters. And then there was Lambert’s sudden appearance, clearly no coincidence at all. The chapter on Chimmeris described a realm stuck in the past: a volcanic terrain, home to fire and magic, where the two dominating races had been at war for centuries. Beth was convinced Piper descended from one of those races—the witches—and was determined to prove it. Piper had her doubts. Just because her father was in a certain place didn’t mean it was in her blood.

  “I told you, I’m not a witch. Do you think I’d be living this life if I could wave a magic wand and change it?”

  Her words seemed to amuse Beth, who stifled a laugh.

  “What fantasy book are you living in? I don’t know a witch alive who uses a wand.”

  “I don’t have any magic,” she insisted.

  “Yes, you do; you just don’t know it yet. Your magic is inside you. We need to find it and let it out.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  Beth waved her hand over the table. “Well, firstly, take a look at these objects and tell me which one calls to you.”

  Numerous items, similar to those Piper had seen in Mathanway’s cottage were set upon the purple-clothed surface. She scanned the strange collection slowly, and her eyes caught the blade of a dagger glinting in the candlelight. She rubbed her fingertip in remembrance. “I haven’t the faintest clue what most of these things are,” she said. “Is one of them supposed to be talking to me?”

  “It’s not a call you hear; it’s a call you feel. Keep looking.”

  Piper turned her attention from a group of liquid-filled bottles to a dish containing a number of flat, copper-coloured items shimmering like the inside of a seashell. “What ar
e those?”

  “Dragon scales. We might need those later. Why don’t you try over here? It’s really these items I’d like you to concentrate on.” She gestured to an area where a clay pot, a glass of water, and a bowl swirling with mist, like dry ice on a stage, lay.

  Piper stared at each of them in turn. None of them evoked any particular interest in her. The mist rose, creating a cloud of orange and cream-coloured swirls under the blaze of a nearby candle, its flame rising high over its thick, purple base. Without thinking, she ran her palm through the flame, then pulled her hand back sharply. Beth was watching her intently.

  “It seems we have a winner,” she said.

  “How?”

  “Let me see your hand.” Piper offered it, and Beth examined her unmarked skin. “Fire is your friend. It senses an affinity to you, as you do with it.”

  “I just thought it was pretty.”

  “So pretty you had to touch it, even knowing the danger?”

  “Everyone runs their hands through candle flames. It doesn’t burn if you do it right. We used to do it all the time in science class.”

  “You more than most, I’m presuming.” Beth lifted the candle and swung it towards her. “Hold it, please.”

  The large column of wax lay heavily in Piper’s palms as Beth instructed her to focus on the centre of the flame. “Keep very still and breathe deeply,” she said. “Feel the energy from the flame filling your body. Imagine an orb of fire in your core, heating your blood and sending its sparks to the very tips of your fingers and toes.”

  “This is stupid.”

  “No, it’s not. Stop talking and concentrate.”

  Piper took deep breaths as she stared into the flame, but the only thing she felt was the beginning of a headache pulsating behind her eyes. She was sure looking at a bright light for this long couldn’t be a good idea.

  “Can you feel it?” Beth asked.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.”

  Piper gave it a few more seconds, then looked away, seeing spots before her eyes. “I don’t feel anything. I told you I’m just a normal girl.”

  “You’re not wearing your medallion under that top, are you?”

  “It’s in my room.”

  “Hmm. In that case, maybe we need something stronger to force your magic out.”

  “Beth, do you really think that’s necessary?” Sophie asked. “This is all very new to her. Perhaps she just needs more practice?”

  Beth’s smile spread wide. “I know exactly what she needs.”

  Without warning, the candle erupted into a ball of flame. Instinctively Piper dropped it, but when it hit the ground, the ball transformed into a column, enveloping Piper in its centre.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed. “You’re going to burn me alive! Make it stop!”

  Beth stood proud. “No. You make it stop. You have the power. You have to believe in your ability to use it.”

  Piper twisted on the spot. Although the flames hadn’t yet touched her, there was no way out. She stamped her foot on a trail of fire creeping across the floor towards her as she tried to decide whether it was her imagination or whether the blazing wall was actually closing in.

  “This isn’t funny, Beth.”

  “Then send it away.”

  “How?”

  “Use your power.”

  Piper narrowed her eyes, and her body tensed as she stared at Beth. She was mad, totally mad. What sane person set another on fire? Could the woman not see that, at any moment, her clothing could catch light and she would be history? She had to escape, if only to take the dagger from the table and stick it into the insane witch’s heart to prevent her magic from harming other people.

  As she imagined the blade twisting through Beth’s flesh, the dagger rose and flew at its target. Thankfully, Beth was fast and caught it before it reached its mark.

  The fire vanished in a hiss of steam.

  “Well,” Beth said, laying the dagger down, “I can’t say that’s what I had in mind, but hey, it worked.”

  “I-I’m so sorry. I-I had no idea...”

  “No need to apologise. I’ve survived worse. Now let’s see what else you can do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PIPER AWOKE THE NEXT morning with renewed strength. She could scarcely believe what had happened. How could she have been a witch all along without knowing it? Why hadn’t her parents told her? Was her magic the dark kind, and they were trying to prevent it coming out? Was that why her father insisted she wear the medallion—to keep the world safe from her magic, rather than the other way around? After all, without it, she’d almost killed someone, and she didn’t think she could ever forgive herself for that. Thank goodness Beth had quick reflexes. But surely the guilt she felt meant she couldn’t be all bad? Whatever her parents’ reason for secrecy, discovering she really did have magic inside her made her feel that anything was possible now. She would find her father. Heck, with powers, she could accomplish all sorts of things. But first, she would free Lambert.

  Beth had arranged for them to get straight to work after breakfast. Piper didn’t argue. She was filled with excitement at the possibilities, and she needed to make amends to Beth. However much Beth had made light of the incident, Piper’s conscience wouldn’t let her brush it away quite so easily.

  By lunchtime, Piper’s brain was in meltdown. Beth had made her read so many books, she was struggling to process the information. She’d learned about dozens of different aspects of witchcraft: casting, conjuring, curses, charms, potion making... It was all too much, and despite her being a quick learner, there was no way she’d remember everything. Beth had assured her it would all make sense in the end, but Piper had her doubts. She had, however, found she possessed a particular skill for levitation, which she intended to practise while Beth taught class that afternoon.

  When Beth left and Sophie retreated to her studio, Piper changed into clothing more befitting the autumn weather outside. A storm had been predicted and the clouds were circling, but Piper didn’t care. A fervent energy swept through her, and feeling as if she’d been cooped up for days, she needed some fresh air.

  As she stepped into the dim October light, she noticed a figure trudging up the driveway against the wind. It looked like... But it couldn’t be. “Maddie? Is that you?” she shouted as the girl grew closer.

  “Hiya. Lovely day, huh?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you, silly. Oh, and the library has been pestering me to return that book I lent to you.”

  “But how did you know where to find me?”

  “Pure chance, actually. Do you know I’ve been round to your flat, two days on the trot, and found it all locked up? I was starting to get worried. You really should join the new millennium and get a mobile phone. You’re the only person I know without one.”

  A strand of hair blew across Piper’s face. She smoothed it away. “Yeah, I know. I’ll get around to it soon, I promise, but what made you come here?”

  “Well, don’t be mad, but your name came up in class this morning. Someone mentioned they’d seen you driving through town with Miss Morrison, so when I saw her arriving for work, I asked her if she’d seen you. She told me you were staying here for a few days. What the pink pixies is that about? Why are you hanging around with teachers?”

  “It’s a long story, but talking of teachers, shouldn’t you be in class?”

  “We have a free Tuesday afternoons, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right, yeah.”

  “So. Were you going somewhere?”

  “Just for a walk.”

  “In this?” Maddie glanced skyward. “It’s freezing,” she said, gripping her hood together at the neck.

  “A bit breezy, perhaps, but I fancied checking out the grounds.”

  “Mind if I come, too? Mum makes me do chores if I get home too early.”

  Piper shrugged and beckoned for Maddie to follow. She was impatie
nt to hone her new skills, but Maddie was her friend. She could spare her a few minutes of her time, couldn’t she?

  Their feet crunched against the gravel, and they kicked through piles of brown leaves as they headed around the side of the house and under a stone arch.

  “So... what’s it like?” Maddie asked.

  “What’s what like?”

  She looked up at the dramatic, sand-coloured walls. “This old place. Is it as bad as everyone says?”

  “The house? Um... the house is all right... bit big, bit echoey, but not as scary as you might think. It’s the people who aren’t exactly normal.”

  “In what way?”

  They’re not human. “They have... issues.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I have issues, too. They’re helping me.”

  “You mean with your dad?”

  “Amongst other things. It’s been nice not to be alone,” Piper said as they entered a large, cobbled area between two buildings.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I should visit more often.” Maddie stopped and looked around, her eyes taking in the row of doors. “Ah, cool. Horses.” She ran over to one of the stalls and stroked her hand down the nose of a placid-looking roan. “I haven’t ridden one of these since we used to take lessons as kids, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Piper said, relieved at the change of subject.

  “Do you think it would be okay to take a couple for a ride?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Aw, come on. It’ll be just like old times.”

  “Um...” Piper chewed over the possibility. “I was told to make myself at home.”

  “There you go then,” Maddie said, glancing at each door in turn. “Which is your best guess for the tack room?”

  *****

  Under a darkening sky, they clip-clopped out of the yard and onto the expanse of grass beyond. Maddie set off at a trot.

  “This is so much fun,” she shouted as the first drops of rain began to fall. “You’re so lucky getting to live somewhere like this.”

 

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