House of Blood and Bone

by Kimberley J. Ward

  Pharawynn waved a hand as if she was brushing away an annoying gnat. Sissy drew back like she had been slapped, snapping her mouth shut, her teeth clicking sharply together, cutting off whatever else she was going to say. Nessa stared between the two women, wide-eyed and alarmed.

  “Shush, my little cinnamon bun,” Pharawynn crooned. “What have I said about speaking when you’re not being spoken to?”

  Sissy mumbled something with her lips sealed shut.

  Looking bored, Pharawynn flicked her hand.

  Whatever hold placed on Sissy was lifted. She gasped, her lips shaping a startled ‘O’ as she gazed at Pharawynn with wounded wonder.

  “Now,” Pharawynn said, her attention returning to Nessa. “Pray tell, what is your view of me and my work? I am most curious.”

  Nessa licked her lips, finding them dry and sore. She had bitten them almost to the point of drawing blood. “I’m not sure it will be to your liking.”

  “But I wish to know nonetheless.”

  It felt like a challenge, a dare, and Nessa took Pharawynn up on it, barely taking the time to think things through. Anger made her bold, and what she had witnessed Pharawynn do to Sissy made her blood boil.

  “Fine then,” Nessa snapped, hopping off the steps and crossing over to the older woman, her hands balled into fists, her heart thumping heavily in her chest. Pharawynn was taller than her by a few inches, but Nessa didn’t let that intimidate her. She stopped perilously close to Pharawynn, glaring up at her.

  “To start with, I thought that you were misunderstood, judged harshly by those who called you a fraud. But you’re not a fraud. Not at all. You’re a bully. A trickster. You’re someone who plays a part, a role which they want others to see, all the while concealing who and what you really are. I’m beginning to see the truth. I’m beginning to see you.”

  Nessa’s voice dropped into a low whisper, her words intended for Pharawynn only. Her mind had gone elsewhere, uncaring of the world around her, of Pharawynn’s shocked expression and the beings she could sense all around her, unseen yet felt, curious little things that darted through the air, dancing in time with the candle flames, the beat of Nessa’s racing heart, alive and different. Special.

  “You’re not a weak spellcaster. I know. I can feel the power in this room. It’s brushing against my skin, soft and gentle. Also strong and unyielding. It’s a force unto its own, but one you somehow have the strength to control. Contrary to your strength, though, you keep it hidden. Secret. Cloistered down here. You use it in your jewellery, for reasons I’m not yet sure of. Just a small amount, of course, barely detectable to other magic users. I find myself wondering why you’d do that? What’s your motivation? My friend says that whatever magic you put in here,” Nessa tapped the brooch pinned over her heart, “wouldn’t do anything. I think you lure people in with a drop of your magic, enticing them with the promise of giving them something they believe they need, and then get them hooked. You prey on the weak, making them dependent on something they believe only you can give them.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Nessa had even shocked herself.

  She drew in a shuddering breath, anticipating the candles to sputter and dim ominously, for the energy in the room to turn heavy and sinister. In Pharawynn’s flint-coloured eyes, Nessa saw a great many things.

  Still, it came as a surprise to her when Pharawynn threw back her head and a mighty laugh burst forth. Nessa flinched, and then frowned in confusion as Sissy began chuckling with a nervous level of enthusiasm.

  “Oh, my dear girl,” Pharawynn chortled, half-heartedly trying to calm her laughter, the pad of her thumb wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye. “You really are a treasure.”

  “I…” Nessa blinked owlishly. “What?” She didn’t understand. It felt as if she had just passed a test of some kind.

  Pharawynn smiled softly, her eyes crinkling. Her hand came up, the backs of her fingers brushing over Nessa’s cheek like she had to double-check that the girl standing before her was real, making sure that she wasn’t an apparition, a figment of her imagination. “You truly are wonderful.”

  “You’re not angry?” Nessa asked, voice timid and shaky.

  “Why would I be angry?” Pharawynn mused. “I asked for your view. You merely gave it. I would like to point out, though, that you only had a few things right. The rest,” she shrugged, “are a little off. But that will all be rectified soon enough, I’m sure.”

  Nessa eyed her suspiciously. “Which parts do I have wrong?”

  Pharawynn winked and took a step back. “You’ll figure it out in time, no doubt. You’re a smart girl, when you put your mind into it.” She crossed over to the far corner of the room, and with her fear slowly fading, Nessa trailed after her.

  “Isn’t she just awe-inspiring?” Sissy whispered, practically skipping beside Nessa, her wild curls bouncing around her shoulders. “I wish I had the power she has in just her pinkie finger alone. I’d be happy with that.”

  “She certainly inspires something,” Nessa grumbled. “But I’m not sure it’s awe.”

  Pharawynn began pottering around in the corner that played host to a scattering of old armchairs that had piles of books and loose papers covering their seats, and an array of mismatched tables, all of which, bar one, were covered in all manner of tools and equipment, with pieces of half-finished jewellery scattered about. It was a workstation of sorts, a zone where Pharawynn set stones, polished fine metals and made her preparations. Large candelabras flooded the corner with light and warmth. If it wasn’t for the strange illustrations and sketches that lined the walls, Nessa thought that it could have made for a nice, little studio nook.

  “Come. Come,” Pharawynn said, her hands fluttering excitedly in front of her, motioning to a settee nestled behind one of the tables, the only bit of seating that could actually be used for its intended purpose. “Make yourself comfortable. The tea has steeped to perfection, and the nibbles are ready to be nibbled.”

  Nessa approached the settee, watching wearily as Pharawynn plucked up a clear glass teapot from one of the crowded tables, loose leaves and coloured petals swirling around inside. It was perched atop a matching stand, a little candle tucked beneath, keeping the tea warm. Pharawynn placed the teapot on a tray that was laden with cakes and pastries and carried it over to a solitary cleared spot on a table beside the settee.

  “Nibbles?” Nessa enquired quietly, eyeing the food on the tray.

  “I knew you’d be hungry when you arrived,” Pharawynn explained, relaxing down into the settee’s cushions. “So I sent Sissy out to get you something to eat. One cannot learn if one is not concentrating. One cannot concentrate if one has an empty stomach.”

  “That’s, ah…quite the selection,” Nessa murmured, moving over to the opposite end of the settee.

  “I didn’t know what you like,” Sissy said animatedly, standing by Pharawynn’s shoulder. “So I got the yummiest things the bakery had to offer. We have iced buns, cherry-filled buns, cinnamon buns—although I confess that I kind of got one of those for me—and there’s a collection of different-flavoured muffins and doughnuts. If you’re not one for sweet things, then I got a couple of mini pies and a handful of pasties.”

  Sissy rattled on, giving a detailed inventory of what was on the tray, and the thought process behind why she had chosen them. Nessa peered at Pharawynn, expecting her to snap and force Sissy’s mouth shut with a wave of her hand, but she seemed quite happy to let Sissy continue, content to pour two glasses of tea. Passing one to Nessa, Pharawynn nodded to the spot beside her, indicating for Nessa to sit.

  Nessa held the dainty cup between the tips of her fingers, hardly daring to apply any pressure. Like the teapot and its stand, the glass was light and delicate, and frightfully thin. Small petals drifted around like tiny fish in a tank, their lovely, deep-pink colour slowly staining the heated liquid. Nessa peered at the petals, wondering what plant they came from, and perched on the edge of the settee, lea
ving enough room for Sissy, should she ever stop talking and join them.

  Sissy was a talker, and a lot of what she had to say held absolutely no relevance or importance. Nessa put it down to a bubbly personality and a small dose of nerves. Still, she would much rather be sat next to Sissy than Pharawynn.

  The hope of having someone between her and Pharawynn was a false one, Nessa realised. Pharawynn had poured only two glasses of tea, and neither of them had found their way into Sissy’s hand. Nessa also remembered that the shop upstairs was still open for business. Sissy had either forgotten to lock the door before taking Nessa down into the cellar or was just oblivious to the fact that a whole plethora of gems and jewellery were completely vulnerable upstairs. Glass display cases offered very little in the way of a barrier against a fist and a thief.

  “Sissy, my little cinnamon bun,” Pharawynn murmured softly, like she was speaking to a young child she didn’t want to upset, gently cutting off whatever else Sissy could possibly have to say about mixing cake batter. “I think it’s time our Dragon Rider and I have some privacy. We have things to discuss that aren’t for your ears.”

  Sissy blinked her big, green eyes, taken slightly aback. “Oh. Right. Of course. I’m so sorry. I was getting carried away again. I didn’t plan to. I’ll go back upstairs then, shall I?”

  “That would be wonderful,” Pharawynn smiled, resting a hand on Sissy’s arm.

  Sissy gazed down at Pharawynn’s hand, at the spot of contact, in reverence, like it was the best, most precious gift in the world. Even though Sissy must have been a couple of years older than her, Nessa couldn’t help but think that she had a sense of naivety about her, a childlike sweetness. “Baroness Milan will be arriving shortly, along with her entourage. Be extra diligent with them today. The youngest is facing an arranged marriage, and the Baroness’ husband is falling out of favour in court because of certain nocturnal activities.”

  Snickering at the last part, Sissy nodded. “I’ll try and point them towards the ‘heart desires’ and the ‘peace of mind’ sections. I’m sure something will call to them.”

  “Excellent, my little cinnamon bun.” Pharawynn patted her arm. “I knew you’d have a knack for this kind of business. You are a natural.”

  Sissy beamed at the praise, then grabbed one of the buns that were her namesake and darted away, swiftly disappearing upstairs.

  Nessa found herself alone with Pharawynn.

  She sipped her tea, wishing that she had the courage to get up and leave, or better yet, had never set foot in the damn shop in the first place.

  Damn Orm and his damn questions.

  Pretending to be oblivious to the pair of eyes trained onto the side of her face, Nessa searched for an escape, a polite way of leaving. There was none to be found. She had been backed into a corner, and she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. Somehow Pharawynn knew that she was a Dragon Rider. It hadn’t been a lucky guess, a wild stab in the dark. No one knew what Aoife’s name was, not even Shadow or Margan. No one outside of Nessa’s tiny circle of friends, which was basically Hunter and Orm, knew Aoife’s name. Chaos had known, of course, but seeing as he wasn’t alive anymore…

  “You have doubts.” Pharawynn’s deep voice resonated through Nessa, soothing, alluring. Powerful. “About a great many things.”

  “Of course I have doubts,” Nessa murmured automatically. “How could I not?” The way Nessa saw it, she could march out of there and hope that Pharawynn didn’t reveal her secret or deal with Pharawynn in a way that ensured she’d never be able to.

  “And conflict,” Pharawynn continued. “So much conflict and turmoil in one so young. It has only grown since I last laid eyes on you. You already feel the expectations of others upon your shoulders, don’t you?”

  Nessa didn’t respond. Pharawynn’s words echoed with a dreaded measure of truth.

  “I had expected much of your inner turmoil to be gone. In fact, I confess that I’m surprised it hasn’t, all things considered.”

  Starting to feel like a wounded animal that wanted nothing more than to be left to lick their wounds in peace, Nessa perched her tea on the arm of the settee and turned to face Pharawynn.

  “I’m no fool. You can’t trick me into revealing any more of my secrets. I think you know enough.”

  Pharawynn’s brows rose. “My dear, you think me trying to trick you? Why in the blessed spirit of the Atheals would I do such a thing?”

  Nessa shrugged. “You’re the fortune teller; you tell me. Although I’m fairly sure that ulterior motives are involved.”

  “Ulterior motives?” Pharawynn let out a bark of laughter. “My dear, little Rider, I want to help you.”

  Nessa shook her head, not believing her. “Why would I need your help?”

  “Because I’m the only one who can help.”

  Chapter 31

  “No,” Nessa said with confidence. “No, you’re not the only one that can help me. I have my friends. They’ll help me. They are helping me.”

  “Perhaps.” Pharawynn shrugged. “Perhaps not.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m sure they are helping you as much as they can.”

  Nessa bristled. “You make it sound like they’re holding back.”

  “I’m not saying that, strictly speaking. However, I do know that they aren’t able to help you in the way you need them to. Whether they are doing it on purpose or not is up to you to decide.”

  “And what can you possibly help me with that my friends can’t. Or won’t?” Nessa asked, pushing aside the niggling doubts that resided at the back of her head, quiet but constant companions.

  “Well,” Pharawynn was calculating, “first off, I can help you regain your memories.”

  Those words were a bucket of ice-cold water, a punch to the gut. Nessa barely contained a flinch. She plucked up her glass and slurped her tea, trying to hide her shock, her hopeful despair. The tea was sweet and warm, soothing. Thin threads of vapour filled her nose with the delicate scent of flowers and clarity. It was spring in a glass, revitalising and uplifting.

  “My memories,” Nessa repeated, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. “Weren’t you meant to already have helped with that? Sissy gave this brooch to me,” she tapped it with a finger, “saying that I would regain what I had lost. As far as I’m aware, my memories are the only thing I’ve lost. As of right now, they’re still lost.”

  “Therefore, you think that the brooch hasn’t worked?”

  “Therefore, I know the brooch hasn’t worked.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you that the brooch has completed the task I assigned it?”

  Nessa scowled. “You’d have to make a compelling argument considering that my memories are still gone, and there’s no inkling of them returning.”

  “And yet here you are,” Pharawynn remarked knowingly. “The brooch has led you true.”

  “It didn’t lead me here,” Nessa said sharply, a little disturbed by what Pharawynn was insinuating. “My friend Orm led me here. Orm, coincidently, is the one who told me that whatever spell you placed within the brooch’s gems is far too weak to have an effect on anything. I don’t need you or your magical jewellery to help me with anything. I have Orm. He’s a—” Half-blood, Nessa almost blurted out. He has the legacy of the Old Bloods running through his veins. That information would be dangerous in the wrong hands. Pharawynn’s hands. “Orm’s a magic user. He will teach me.”

  “Will he now?”

  “You don’t believe he will?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he would if he could. I fear that what you need to learn is well beyond his capabilities of teaching.”

  Nessa had seen Orm use magic on numerous occasions. He was gifted, skilled. He could teach her easily. He was just unsure of where to start. “I don’t understand what you mean by that.” Nessa muttered.

  “Do you not?” Pharawynn chuckled. She peered at Nessa and swiftly straightened from her lazy slouch, her
eyes going wide. “You don’t. You really don’t. My goodness gracious, how can that be? Has he not told you?”

  Misgivings grew in the pit of Nessa’s stomach, heavy and cumbersome, borderline painful. “Told me what?” What has he been keeping from me?

  Pharawynn appeared genuinely shocked. “I cannot believe that he has kept such a thing from you. Especially when you are so close to coming of age. I can sense that it is nearing, even with the block upon your powers.”

  “Kept what from me?” Nessa asked, an undercurrent of panic lacing her words. “And what about the block upon my powers?”

  Pharawynn sagged back into the corner of the settee, half-turned towards Nessa. There was a look of pity in her eyes, pity and a touch of startled consideration. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered into her glass cup just before she downed her drink in one smooth gulp. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What,” Nessa bit out, teeth clenched together, attempting to contain a scream of frustration, of despair. “You can’t believe what? Tell me.” Something about Pharawynn, something about her little half-truths, set Nessa on edge.

  “I will,” Pharawynn hastily promised, picking up the teapot and refilling her glass. “I will. I’ll explain it all, as best as I’m able to. There’s an awful lot that I have to cover, though, and I’ll have to start from the very beginning.”

  “The very beginning?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Pharawynn sipped her tea, then motioned for Nessa to do the same. “Drink your drink. It has calming properties. It will help you keep a level head while I start right from the beginning.”

  Nessa gazed down at her glass, peering at the scattering of petals that had now settled at the bottom. She wondered if a spell had been placed over it, similar to what Orm had done with that noxious concoction he’d tried to force her to drink. Since they were discussing magic like it wasn’t an extraordinary thing, Nessa let her mind slip for a second, just as Orm had taught her to. One couldn’t be too careful. It was with mild surprise that Nessa discovered her tea was just that: tea. There was nothing special or magical about it.