The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  The band - the Howling Gales - struck up a dance tune. I tried not to wince. Modern music had never appealed to me. I had a feeling the only reason the younger generation liked it was because it annoyed their parents. The dance steps seemed to be completely random, rather than the ritualised formality I’d been taught in school. I saw a young man dance up to a woman, bumping her into the next man. It looked like a chain of dominos, but if there was any pattern, I couldn’t see it. I silently thanked my ancestors that I didn’t have to dance. I couldn’t follow the steps.

  But at least the racket provides a distraction, I thought. The band’s magic was casting all sorts of weird images across the hall. It felt small and cramped even though it was the largest chamber in the hall. I watched a couple of aristos I vaguely recognised popping in and out of view, half-hidden within the smoke and flickering lights. No one could be sure who’s going in and out of the room.

  Akin bowed, then hurried off as Caitlyn and her sisters entered. I was mildly surprised they hadn’t brought a chaperone. Alana had never struck me as the kind of person who’d worry about protecting her sister’s reputation, while Bella was popularly supposed to be lazy. She certainly looked a little soft ... I reminded myself, sharply, that it could be an act. Bella could make almost anything of herself, perhaps literally. She had the wealth and power and connections to make herself very important indeed.

  I put the thought out of my head as I walked around the room. The guests were chatting loudly, but their words were drowned out by the music. I muttered a pair of spells to sharpen my ears, blocking out the racket as the singer started to mangle a popular song. His version seemed to include a lot of swearing and other unpleasantness. Mistress Grayling would have had a heart attack if she’d heard the din. She’d hired bands to play at school dances, but they’d all been very traditional.

  “Lucy! So good to see you again!”

  I turned to see Ayesha and Zeya McDonald. The twins grinned at me, their hair and clothes practically identical in every way. I felt a twinge of envy. They were tall girls, with long brown hair and willowy bodies that suggested they spent a lot of time taking care of themselves. They wore their dresses low, exposing a hint of cleavage without showing off too much. I rather suspected their parents didn’t know what they were wearing. They’d be in deep trouble if they were caught.

  “It’s been a long time,” I said. I wasn’t sure which of them was which. “I missed you.”

  The twins smirked, suggesting they knew perfectly well I was lying. We might have had a playdate or two, back when we’d been children, but we wouldn’t have been close. The year between us might as well have been a decade, or a century, when we went to school. And I’d gone to Grayling’s ... I told myself, sharply, that there was no point in fretting about it as they hinted they wanted to talk to me alone. What was done was done. I’d just have to catch up the hard way.

  There are some advantages to being isolated from everyone else, I told myself, although I knew it wasn’t entirely true. Everyone knows I’m not involved in their petty little power games.

  But I wanted to be, I reflected as we walked into the side corridor. Half the private rooms were already closed and locked, occupied by couples who wanted some time together without the omnipresent chaperonage. The wards crackled around us, ensuring that names and faces would be concealed as long as the observer didn’t look too closely. I had a feeling the guests would keep each other’s secrets, just as my classmates and I had done when we’d been students. There was a difference between exploiting a secret for oneself and tattling. The guests wouldn’t tattle for fear they’d be tattled on themselves.

  I could still hear the music, despite the wards, as I led them into the final room and closed the door behind us. There was nothing in the room, beyond a handful of rickety chairs and a small table. I motioned for them to sit, then sat myself. It was hard not to envy them as they brushed down their dresses. They had the insane self-confidence that came with being incredibly wealthy and well-connected. Who cared if people talked? They were the next generation of the aristocracy and they knew it.

  “You’ll be coming to our ball, of course,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. It wasn’t a question. She knew I’d be at the ball. “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure I will,” I lied. I didn’t want to watch another pair of girls enter society as adults, not when it was another reminder I’d never be one of them. The only advantage to attending was the chance to search their hall for useful information. “Do you have matches already lined up?”

  “We do,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. I studied their faces, trying to determine how to tell them apart. They were so close that even their magic felt identical. “And we’d like to get to know them here.”

  I allowed my eyes to sharpen. “After your ball, I assume?”

  “Of course,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. The innocence in her voice would have grated even if I hadn’t known it was an act. “We can’t meet them before we come out. People will talk.”

  “They do,” I agreed. My mind raced. I could use this ... somehow. I’d have to think about it. “Why can’t you meet elsewhere?”

  “Because someone would be looking over our shoulders,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said, in a tone that suggested I’d asked a stupid question. “And it would be hard to get to know the boys if they know they’re being watched.”

  “I dare say I can arrange a private room, for later considerations,” I said, slowly. I grinned, suddenly. “You’d better not dress the same or the boys won’t know which of you they’re meant to be courting.”

  The girls laughed. “That’s part of the fun,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. “We can maintain deniability.”

  “It sounds like a bad romance novel,” I said. I’d read a handful when they’d been passed around the school. I might have been innocent, for a given value of innocent, but even I’d known the stories were - at best - completely exaggerated. The books had been confiscated when they’d been discovered and we’d all been given detention. “You’d better be careful.”

  “But you’ll let us come?” Ayesha - or Zeya - smiled. “You’ll invite them too?”

  “If you want,” I said. It would let all four of them maintain plausible deniability. “But I will demand something in return, later.”

  “Anything,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said.

  “Within reason,” her sister added. She looked very firm. “We’re not going to give you everything.”

  I grinned. “Not a chance,” I said. “My demands are very reasonable. I just want a million billion trillion crowns.”

  They laughed. “There isn’t that much,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. She was probably right. I had no idea how wealthy the greatest of the Great Houses truly were, but I was fairly sure they weren’t that rich. “Maybe you should ask for just ten crowns instead.”

  “I’ll want a favour instead,” I said. I had no idea what, not yet. I didn’t have to use it at once. I could keep it for years. “One from each of you.”

  The twins glanced at each other, then nodded in unison. I wished, suddenly, that I had a sister. It would have been nice, I thought. I’d often wondered why my parents hadn’t had more children. Had I really been that expensive? Or had my parents simply decided they didn’t want to bring more children into the world? They hadn't been able to provide a dowry for me, let alone a second child.

  “It will be our pleasure,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. She stood and held out her arms for a hug. I hugged her tightly. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “After the ball,” I said, as I hugged her sister. My fingers pulled a loose hair from her dress and concealed it within my palm. “We don’t want anyone to notice before then.”

  “Of course not,” Ayesha - or Zeya - said. She hadn’t felt a thing. “And we look forward to seeing you at the ball.”

  I concealed the hair within my pocket, wrapping a pair of protective spells around it as they left the chamber. It wouldn’t last long, but - if I was lucky - it
would last long enough. I smiled to myself and followed them out, turning a blind eye as Akin and Caitlyn emerged from another room. Caitlyn looked slightly mussed. I resisted the urge to wink as I returned to the ballroom, hoping her sisters weren’t keeping an eye on her. They might not be willing to lie, if their parents asked.

  And I got a hair, I thought. It had been sheer luck, but I was quite happy to take advantage of it. I can use it.

  Akin caught up with me. “Thank you for hosting,” he said, again. His lips looked slightly puffy. “It’s been a wonderful evening.”

  “It was my pleasure,” I said. The music was starting to die away as the party came to an end. I’d have to hurry to the door, just so I could bid farewell to the junior aristocrats before they left. “I’ll see you again soon.”

  I leaned forward. “And you need to cast a glamour on your lips,” I added. He’d owe me a favour for pointing it out, before someone else noticed. His parents would probably inspect him when he returned home. “Quickly.”

  Akin blushed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Welcome to McDonald Hall,” Lady McDonald said, as I entered the hall. “It is our pleasure to welcome you.”

  I nodded as I dropped a curtsy. The container in my pocket felt heavy, too heavy. I’d wrapped every concealment spell I knew around it, but there was a very good chance it would be detected by the household wards. It wasn’t uncommon for guests to bring concealed items with them - I’d taken the precaution of purchasing a small present for Ayesha and Zeya McDonald to conceal the hair - but it was still a risk. I’d been tempted, very tempted, to simply leave the hair behind or destroy it. Only the grim awareness I needed it - and the thrill of using it - had convinced me to keep it.

  “I thank you.” I straightened up. “It is my pleasure to attend.”

  I kept my thoughts - my real thoughts - to myself as I entered the hall. Powerful wards and charms hung in the air, their mere presence a grim reminder that the family had enemies. I saw little groups of aristocrats scattered all over, each reflecting divisions within the wider society. None welcomed me. The air was thick with tension, as if the slightest cough would be enough to start something violent. I told myself I should be grateful as I got myself a drink and started to wander around the room. They wouldn’t notice when I left. They had too many problems of their own.

  My eyes flickered from group to group, silently assessing who was in and who was out. I recognised some faces, but others were strangers. They might be kindred who’d been brought to the hall to show support for Ayesha and Zeya McDonald or ... they might be strangers from the other side of North Shallot. A small army of servants glided from group to group, proffering food and drink and then scarpering away before they could be given orders. It looked as if every servant and armsman within the building was in the hall, as well as a handful of others hired on short notice. I spotted a pair of armsmen keeping watch and smiled. The hosts were too worried about their guests hurling curses at each other to keep an eye on me.

  The room filled slowly as the more important guests arrived ... fashionably late, of course. I spotted Akin keeping company with Alana, rather than Caitlyn ... I wondered, idly, if someone had noticed he’d been a little too close to his betrothed last week. Or ... they were both first in line to inherit their families, when their fathers died. I suspected they had strict orders to pretend to be friends, even if they hated each other. It wasn’t the first time they’d had to work together. They’d been Head Boy and Head Girl of Jude’s, if I recalled correctly. And they’d survived the year without trying to kill each other.

  I felt a twinge of envy - again - as the herald called for our attention. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald descended the stairs, wrapped in white dresses that sparkled with gold and diamond jewels. They shone so brightly they were the centre of attention, even when two young men came forward to ask them to dance. It was so strictly formal I understood perfectly why they wanted to meet their prospective partners somewhere away from the hall. Everyone was following a script. There was no hint of reality about it. And who knew what the young men were really like?

  The music - very traditional music - started to play. I danced a single dance, then hurried to the washroom. The ball was scheduled to last for hours, with at least ten formal dances before Lord McDonald left the chamber, his absence indicating his guests could leave without giving offense. I plucked the hair out of the container as I walked past the washroom, muttering a pre-prepared spell as I brushed my fingers against the hair. The wards were already configured to realise that Ayesha and Zeya McDonald might be in two places at once, I thought. They might not notice if there suddenly appeared to be three girls, particularly if two of them were very close together. The sheer number of blood relatives on the dance floor would make it harder to determine that one of the girls was a fake. Or so I thought ...

  The hair felt warm in my palm as I pushed my way into the corridor, then walked up the stairs as if I owned the place. The wards should have turned me back - or worse - if they thought I didn’t belong there. I was fairly sure that Ayesha and Zeya McDonald knew how to find and use the servant passages - it was common among aristocratic children, even if it was officially forbidden - but I didn’t know where they were. My heart beat like a drum as I kept moving upstairs, wrapping an obscurification charm around me. I might pass unnoticed - the combination of the borrowed glamour and the obscurification should hide me - but I didn’t know for sure. It was a gamble, yet ... what was the point of gambling if one could afford to lose?

  I put the thought out of my mind as I reached the top of the stairs and looked around. The walls were lined with portraits of the family’s ancestors, all of whom seemed to be glowering at me disapprovingly. I smirked as I walked past a line of red-haired men and women - I had no idea why Ayesha and Zeya McDonald had brown hair - and headed to Lord McDonald’s office. My father’s plans had been quite complete. The inner chamber might be beyond me, hair or no hair, but the outer chamber should be accessible. I’d heard Ayesha and Zeya McDonald were both being raised to take their father’s place. I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but ... the twins actually seemed to like each other. That was less common than one might think. Both Akin and Caitlyn had real problems with their siblings.

  They got better, if rumour is to be believed, I thought, as I touched the lock gingerly. The charm was solid, but - thanks to Gary - not solid enough. The glamour - and my unlocking spell - was enough to open the door. But there’s still some bitterness there.

  I stepped inside and surveyed the office. It was surprisingly small for the nerve centre of an entire family. There were four desks, one significantly bigger than the others. Lord McDonald’s, I guessed. The others would belong to his daughters and his secretary. I walked over to the biggest desk, then stopped dead. There were a pair of warning hexes hanging over the desk, the hair tingling unpleasantly against my palm. His daughters weren’t allowed to use the desk. I smiled - I understood the feeling - and checked the second desk, using the hair to feel out the charms. The secretary wasn’t allowed to keep his superiors - including Ayesha and Zeya McDonald - out. The drawers clicked open at my touch. I poked through the papers as fast as I could, cursing under my breath. It looked as though the secretary was sending orders to the mines to double their production.

  Good luck with that, I thought. My family had learnt the hard way that there were limits to how much one could pull from a mine. Why are you ...?

  I frowned as I read the next set of documents. The McDonalds were purchasing more mines, all of which produced ore for Objects and Devices of Power. Come to think of it, I considered, they wanted ore that was mainly used for Objects of Power and their spin-offs. My old forgery teacher - we’d all considered him a bit of a forgery - had insisted that some of the ores and metals simply didn’t work very well these days, as if we’d forgotten how to refine them after the Thousand Year Empire died. I’d thought he was mad, but he might have had a point. Most Devices of Power
were forged with more modern ores.

  Unless they’re trying to snap them up to keep Caitlyn from producing more Objects of Power, I mused. It was possible, I thought, but ... it made no sense. She’s not going to run out of ore in a hurry, is she?

  I doubted it. House Aguirre owned mines too, lots of them. They’d even put a bid in for one of my mines, which had puzzled and alarmed me when I’d read the note. Either they thought the mine wasn’t worked or ... or what? Did they know there was something there, something useful? I had no idea. I had no way to find out, either. It wasn’t as if I could ask ...

  I can use this, I thought, although I wasn’t sure how. I ...

  A shiver ran down my spine. I hadn’t heard anything, but instincts I’d honed to a fine point at boarding school insisted I was no longer alone. I readied a spell, preparing to fight and run as I turned slowly. I’d been caught before, when I’d been younger ... there was no one there. The door was open, but the corridor was empty. I inched forward, peering around for a hint someone was hidden behind magic. Maybe I wasn’t the only one intent on raiding Lord McDonald’s office. I glanced back at the desk, then headed for the door. I’d pushed my luck too far. The wards weren’t paying any particular attention to me, as far as I could tell, but there was no point in taking any more chances. If someone was suspicious, better to pull out while I was ahead.