by Emma Newman
“What’s the Agency?” Lucy asked.
“They supply indentured servants. They give people who’ve fallen from grace a means to survive, and a future for their children. I imagine the Albas will end up as servants to one of the Great Families.”
“What if they don’t want that?” Lucy asked.
“The only other option is slavery in Exilium,” Tom replied.
“Or death,” Cathy added.
“But no one has ever chosen to die instead of enter the Agency,” Tom said. “That would be absurd.”
“Would it?” Cathy muttered to herself. It sounded too close to slavery for her liking. She’d rather die than serve these vultures.
“Surely the Agency has problems keeping them in check?” Lucy seemed to have a grim fascination with the institution.
“They have many powerful Charms,” Tom whispered back. “They’re very wealthy, and rather ruthless people run it, my dear. Best you don’t think of them.”
“Do our staff come from this Agency?” she asked, but Tom didn’t seem to hear that question.
Cathy’s mother had wrestled her way through the crowd to tend to her brother and had taken over his care from the Censor, who held up her hands and called for silence. Eventually, she got what she wanted.
“Ladies and gentlemen. As this sorry affair has been exposed so publicly, it seems only right that it be dealt with publicly. Before I pronounce my judgement, the condemned will be given the opportunity to speak, and what they say may affect the severity of their punishment. I’m aware that this may be unorthodox, but there is nothing commonplace about these events, and no precedent, therefore this will be dealt with as I see fit. Before the condemned speak, I need to be certain that every nook of this filthy enterprise has been exposed. Are there any amongst you who have information to offer?”
People looked at each other. Their terror at being funnelled into a room and then locked in by a Sorcerer was now replaced by open Schadenfreude.
“Actually,” a man called from the crowd, “I have a great deal of information that may well aid you, Lady Censor.” The people around him stood aside, giving the rest of the room a greater view, but Cathy knew his voice too well. It was William Iris, and he was looking particularly pleased with himself.
31
Will enjoyed the attention as he strolled forward to the edge of the parted crowd. He’d found the spectacle quite enjoyable in the main, aside from the unpleasantness for Amelia and Cornelius, but he was confident he could protect them. The distress on Horatio’s face was an extraordinarily pleasurable thing to witness; now it was time to get the best out of this that he could, for himself and his family.
“Lady Censor, I’ve suspected the Gallica-Rosas had a secret agenda in Aquae Sulis since I returned from my Grand Tour; however, without evidence I could not speak of such. My concerns were first piqued by Horatio’s sponsorship into the city for the season, and, as I have explained to you privately, this was obtained via unsavoury means that would not be considered gentlemanly nor decent in any way.”
“This is slander!” Horatio shouted but the Censor held up a hand in his direction.
“No more interruptions, Gallica, or I will have you removed.” She turned back to Will. “You have explained that to me most eloquently, Mr Iris, and I would like all present to know that I consider the Mascula-Peonia family to be victims of the Gallicas’ manipulations as much as I have been, and as such free of blame.”
Oliver smiled at Will gratefully, an arm around his sister Cecilia, who looked like she was building up to a dramatic swoon. Nearby, Oliver’s mother dabbed at her eyes as Mr Mascula-Peonia closed his with relief.
Will smiled back at his friend. The first objective had been achieved. “May I continue, Lady Censor?” At her nod, he straightened his waistcoat, giving everyone a chance to focus their attention back onto him. “As you’ve no doubt heard, Horatio Gallica-Rosa made some appalling accusations against my fiancée this evening. It may interest you to know, Lady Censor, that soon after the start of the season he threatened me with these accusations, urging me to break my engagement and making it clear that if I chose to ignore him, he would make them public.” He paused as whispers rippled around the room. “When I heard his family had most conveniently awarded him ownership of a mysterious new property in Aquae Sulis, enabling him to press for citizenship, his motives became clear. It is my belief, Lady Censor, that Horatio has been planning to destroy my engagement to the innocent Catherine Papaver with the aim of causing a terrible rift between our families. Doing so would allow them to exploit the resulting instability in the Council of Aquae Sulis and thereby get voted in much more easily. In light of this, I’m sure the good people of Aquae Sulis can see why he would be so motivated to besmirch my fiancée’s good name, and they will therefore treat his accusations with the contempt they deserve.”
He glanced across at Catherine, expecting at least a smile or nod in acknowledgement. Instead she was looking at her father, trying to determine how he was reacting, and most probably how bad things would be once this evening was over. The sooner he extricated her from that household, Will thought, the better.
The Censor waited for the flurry of private commentary to pass. “I understand you and Horatio are to duel over this matter?” she said and he nodded. “Is there anything else?”
“I only wish to apologise for the distress caused this evening by the arrival of the Sorcerer. When someone, who I believe should remain anonymous, confirmed that this house in fact belongs to the Master of Ceremonies, I set things in motion to have him rescued by the Arbiter as swiftly as possible. I had no idea a Sorcerer would come in person and cause such a disturbance. All I can say in my defence, Lady Censor, is that I warned you as best as I could at the time, and to beg your forgiveness for being ignorant of his plans.”
The Censor smiled as if enjoying the social dance. “You are of course forgiven. More than that, Mr Iris, you are held in the highest regard for acting so swiftly. In fact, I think everyone in this city should demonstrate their gratitude to Mr Iris for his bravery, quick thinking and excellent handling of the situation, for without him we might have lost the Master of Ceremonies and forever had the lowest of criminals in our midst.”
She started to clap and in seconds the ballroom resounded with applause. He bowed and then straightened to see Horatio, who appeared to be on the brink of self-combustion. Apart from the Gallica-Rosas, the only other person in the room who seemed eminently unimpressed with him was his fiancée. Surely she hadn’t expected her part in the affair to be brought into the open? Perhaps she thought the applause should have been for her. What an odd creature she was.
Once it had subsided he bowed to the Censor again and took a step back. He’d saved the Peonias from being taken down with the Gallicas and he hoped he’d cast enough doubt on the accusations against Catherine for it all to blow over. He knew the Gallicas were doomed, but was less certain about how Amelia and Cornelius would fare in the wake of Lady Rose’s certain punishment. Surely their family had allies in Londinium who would accept the majority of their wealth in return for keeping them safe in a Nether house in the country and out of the clutches of the Agency? They’d never enjoy the status they had now, and they’d never be invited to Society events, but it was unthinkable that such a wealthy and powerful family should collapse and be given over to the Agency wholesale. He’d heard of all kinds of deals done to avoid such a fate, but then again he’d never known one of the patrons themselves to be so horrifically disgraced. One thing was for certain: if the Albas had been involved, there would be no way to save them from the Censor’s wrath and they would be collected by the Agency by the end of the evening.
“And what say you, Horatio Gallica-Rosa?” the Censor asked.
Horatio took a moment to compose himself. “I find it most interesting, Lady Censor, that William Iris always suspected me, without realising he was being played for a fool by the Albas. For they have been just as involved
in this as the rest of my family, and are just as culpable.”
“Horatio!” Cornelius said sharply as Amelia leant against him, clutching her brother’s arm.
“What?” Horatio sneered. “You thought I’d let you stand there whilst I and my family were destroyed for playing our part in the same game as you? Just because you and your sister were lucky enough to be chosen to play the charmers and I was cast as the villain, it doesn’t mean my family should be the only ones to suffer for it. And let’s face it, we’re all damned now. This is over. Why not lay it all out for them all to see? I’d like him to know the truth.” He sneered at Will.
“Explain yourself,” the Censor commanded.
Will hid the fact that Horatio’s words were sending him into freefall. If this were true, Amelia and Cornelius would face the same fate as the Gallicas, regardless of whether the rest of their family could be saved somehow.
“Our families are not feuding and we planned the entirety of this season’s events together in Londinium. There’s no point in denying what the Lords Thorn did to the Master of Ceremonies, and how I was set to benefit, but it may interest you to know that the Albas were sent here to sabotage the engagement too, but in a more subtle and pleasant way.”
“Will, it’s not true!” Amelia gasped at him, but he kept his expression as impassive as he could. He didn’t want anyone to see the effect she had on him.
“I was set up to be the one everyone hated, the hot-headed swordsman to be kept out of Aquae Sulis at all costs, while we played Cornelius and Amelia as the more palatable alternatives. I knew I’d never live here, and frankly I never wanted to. William Iris thought he was so clever, doing all he could to have the Albas accepted in Society, when he was playing into our hands all along.” He laughed. “Not applauding him now, are you?”
Will knew Amelia was weeping, so he didn’t look at her. It was time to make a decision. He believed Horatio; it made perfect sense. He’d watched the way Cornelius had been looking at him throughout the awful speech, and it was clear he was terrified and guilty. But, even knowing that he’d been played like a fiddle, Will couldn’t bear the thought of them being turned over to the Agency. Not Amelia. Not a jewel like her. She wouldn’t be put to work as a house servant, she’d be sent to a high-class brothel abroad, like the one he and Oliver had stumbled into by accident early in their tour. Her creamy skin and green eyes would make her profitable to the lowest forms of humanity and he simply couldn’t bear the thought of it. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d had the opportunity to save her and had never taken it.
“Lady Censor,” he said, stepping forward, “Amelia and Cornelius confessed their remit to me earlier this evening.”
“That’s a lie!” Horatio roared.
“And,” Will shouted above his objections, “they begged me to keep it secret so they wouldn’t be punished by their family for their indiscretion until it was certain how this was to play out. I give you my word, Lady Censor, that their allegiance aligned to Aquae Sulis once they discovered how low the Gallicas had stooped in order to achieve Lady Rose’s goals. Horatio is a bitter, cruel man who can’t stand the thought that his bloodline gambled and lost. I see no reason for two innocent people to be dragged down with him.”
The crowd’s speculation was starting to drown out Horatio’s curses. Will permitted himself to look at Amelia, who was gazing at him wide-eyed as she clung to Cornelius. He wondered why Horatio’s parents hadn’t spoken up, then realised they must be terrified of angering the Censor further. They knew they were lost. Their son was too young to accept it quietly.
“Ladies, gentlemen!” The Censor called the room back to silence. She levelled her gaze at Will, studying him. “Are you willing to vouch for these people, even though, as we speak, their patron is receiving judgement from the King and Queen of Exilium?”
Will felt his father’s glare as he nodded. “Yes, Lady Censor.”
Before the Censor could reply the crowd was showered in splinters of crystal as the chandeliers shattered above them. The sprites, now free, fluttered in circles for a moment as women screamed and people were swept into a crush for the doors. The light in the room became diffuse now it was no longer focused and reflected, and sprites battered the windows in desperate attempts to flee before being trapped once more.
Will brushed tiny slivers of crystal from his hair, feeling a splinter spike his thumb. As one of the sprites zipped over the Gallicas’ heads, he saw Mrs Gallica’s hair tumble out of its arrangement and the jewellery about her neck tarnish and crumble to dust. He cast an eye about the room, seeing plaster powdering into mist up in the corners where sprites were clustering, the previously hidden stylised sprigs of lavender revealed in the cornices once more.
When the initial panic was over, the crowd calmed once they realised that all the active Rosa Charms had failed and they were not in fact being attacked by a wrathful Sorcerer. “The Rose is dead!” someone called out. Will could hear Amelia sobbing into Cornelius’s chest. He looked over to see her brother staring at him, absolutely petrified. Horatio’s mother fainted with no one to catch her, as her husband was swaying himself.
“Silence!” the Censor called out. “It’s clear that Lady Rose has fallen. The collectors from the Agency will be here very soon.”
Catherine’s father, who’d gone to his wife’s side when the chandeliers failed, picked up the Master of Ceremonies and carried him out of the room at the Censor’s nod. Will could see some were tempted to leave, but everyone stayed to see the horror play out. People moved away from the Gallicas; one man even stepped over Horatio’s mother before her husband realised what had happened and tended to her. Horatio was clutching the sides of his head, shaking, muttering to himself.
Everyone knew what was coming. “The Gallicas are condemned for their crime and I forbid anyone within the boundary of the city, be they resident or guest, to take them into their care,” the Censor commanded.
“We were only doing what we were told,” Horatio croaked. “We were only obeying our Patroon. How can this be happening?”
“Mr William Iris is held in high regard and has vouched for the Albas. I will give them the benefit of the doubt,” the Censor said after looking at him again. He suspected she’d been weighing up whether to let him have what he wanted since he spoke out for them. “Is there anyone in this room prepared to take them in?”
It seemed that no one even considered it. They all looked away as Amelia and Cornelius turned slowly, seeing nothing but the backs of people’s heads. Will noticed Catherine bite her lip and stare at them but she was physically turned around by her brother. Will’s parents, after a pointed stare at him, also turned their backs, as did the Censor herself.
Will looked into Amelia’s eyes. They were reddened but still exquisite, and even though the tip of her nose was pink and her cheeks blotchy she was still breathtaking. He remembered the dull eyes of the whore in the Egyptian brothel, nothing left of whoever she had been, the Madame proudly introducing her as a maiden from one of the great European families who were disgraced by a scandal in the French Court. “Young and fresh,” she kept saying as those eyes just stared past his shoulder. “Young and fresh.”
“I’ll take them in,” he said, striding over and putting a hand on Cornelius’s shoulder as Amelia snatched his other hand and kissed his palm fiercely.
“We are in your debt,” Cornelius whispered, as the sound of carriages arriving set off murmurs about the arrival of the Agency’s collection wagons.
“We’ll address that another time,” Will replied softly, and whilst everyone else was turned away and Horatio was crumpling into a howling mess he stroked Amelia’s cheek, just once. “Don’t worry. I won’t let a soul harm you.”
32
Cathy woke early and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the Rosas. Like everyone else, she’d watched as the collectors had marched in and dragged the Gallicas out. Horatio tried to fight but they Dolled him b
efore he could even draw his sword and was carried out, stiff as a lamp-post on their shoulders. She could still hear his mother’s wailing and didn’t think she would ever forget that sound.
The Censor sent everyone home soon after and she’d stayed silent in the carriage as her parents discussed the events. Her uncle looked as if he’d been tortured, her father had said. She wondered how he would know.
Elizabeth delighted in the fact that William had saved the Albas and speculated that his feelings for Amelia in particular must have motivated his chivalry. Cathy did her best to ignore her sister. She didn’t care whether Amelia was set up in a distant country house to be his mistress. William could do what he liked. After the success he’d so readily claimed the credit for, the Sorcerer would have to make good on his word and she would find a way to earn a boon from him to cash in as an escape from the Nether. She planned to be away and protected from anything remotely Fae long before their wedding. Whilst she had no idea how she was going to do it, at least there was hope again. Not even Lord Poppy could work around sorcerous magic.
The gentle knock at the door and the key turning in the lock made her sit up in bed. The maid came in with fresh water for the washbowl, locking the door behind her. “Time to dress, I’m afraid, miss. Sorry it’s so early, but the dressmaker is here to do a fitting.”
“Now?”
“The mistress said I was to ready you right away. I’m sorry. I brought warm water.”
“Clare, how did you come to be in the Agency?”
“I was born into it, miss,” she replied as she pulled Cathy’s nightgown over her head.
“Do you ever want to… leave?”
“Leave, miss? Where would I go?”