The Seers

by Julianna Scott

  I looked their way just long enough to get a good look, then moved my gaze on to other groups as I was not about to let Shannon catch me staring… again. No way was I going to let her think that I was in any way impressed by her or her frou-frou hair.

  Seriously though, how the hell did she get it to stay up that high…?

  Reminding myself that I didn’t care, I turned my attention to the other side of the room, which is when I noticed the young man standing by himself against the wall in the very back of the hall. At first he looked strange compared to all the other men in their sashes, medals and other finery. Even the other young men in the room had at least a pin or two and of course a sash displaying their family color. The young man, however, didn’t have any medals, ribbons, or sash anywhere. Just a plain black tux and black shirt that perfectly matched the shadows he seemed to be clinging to. It wasn’t until I saw his face that I understood the lack of decoration; it was Steven.

  “Oh,” I said, perking up immediately. Maybe I’d have someone to talk to after all. Of course I knew he was working, but maybe we could hang out for short bits here and there between whatever responsibilities he had.

  “Something wrong?” Cormac asked as I stood up.

  “No, I’m fine,” I assured him, “I just saw someone and I’m going to go say hello.”

  “I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to make friends so quickly,” he chuckled, pleased.

  I smiled as I passed by him and made my way around the room to where Steven was standing, quietly watching the activity of the room with his hands folded behind his back. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind my coming over, but at the very least I wanted to say hi and make sure he knew that everything was OK. He’d kind of freaked out earlier when I’d told him I was Jocelyn’s daughter, and I felt bad for springing it on him like that without explaining. With the way the staff was treated by the rest of the Bhunaidh, I could understand his reaction, but I wouldn’t have him thinking that he’d done anything wrong.

  I was also vaguely aware of the fact that openly socializing with a member of the staff wouldn’t be well received by the other guests, but my only reaction there was to say “the hell with it.” Steven seemed like a nice guy and that was all I cared about. If they had a problem with me talking to him, they stuff it.

  “Hello, again,” I said, as I arrived at his post. I didn’t know what manner of response I had expected, but it definitely wasn’t what I got.

  “Wh-what are you d-doing?” he asked, stark fear in his eyes.

  “I saw you over here and just wanted to say hi…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

  “Y-you sh-shouldn’t be ta-alking to me.”

  “Look,” I said, raising my hand slightly, “it’s OK. I’m…” I trailed off again, trying to choose my words carefully. What I would have liked to say was, “I’m not a pompous jerk like the rest of these people,” but given that many of the “pompous jerks” were within earshot, that didn’t seem the best way to go. Treading lightly, I tried again. “I just wanted to come say hi, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

  He looked at me for a long moment before his eyes softened slightly over the fear. “L-listen, I d-don’t think y-you r-realize th–”

  “Becca,” a female voice cut in, “what are you doing all the way over here?”

  I turned to see Alva coming up from behind me, her chipper smile just a little too big. From the corner of my eye I saw Steven immediately bow his head.

  “I just came over to say hello,” I explained, already seeing where this was heading, and wanting to pop her right in the nose for it.

  “Isn’t that sweet of you?” she said, though admiration was the last thing I heard in her voice. Without another look at Steven, she wrapped her arm around me and began leading me away. “Why don’t we get you a drink? The dances will start soon, and after that, I would be happy to introduce you to all the other Holders your age. I know they all can’t wait to meet you.”

  She continued to talk as she led me across the room back to where Cormac and Alex were seated, while I did my best to keep my cool. I couldn’t decide whether I was more furious or disgusted, but one thing I did know was that my temper and I weren’t going to be able to take much more of this.

  She dropped me off with my party with a twittering farewell like nothing at all important had happened, and the moment she was gone, Cormac and Alex both turned to me with questions written all over their faces.

  “Everything all right, dear?” Cormac asked quietly, leaning in.

  “These people are horrible,” I bit out under my breath.

  “What happened?” Alex probed gently.

  “I went over to say hi to one of the staff I met earlier, but apparently, he’s not good enough for me to talk to.”

  “She didn’t want you talking to the staff?” Alex asked. “That seems strange.”

  But Cormac’s expression didn’t look as though he thought it was strange at all. “Hmm,” he mused, squinting thoughtfully, “not exactly surprising. Though I do find it odd that she would make such a fuss…”

  “It’s not even like we were making a scene or anything!” I continued to rage quietly. “We were standing in the corner talking. Or at least trying to talk, which wasn’t easy given how terrified these people have made the poor kid!”

  “What do you mean?” Cormac asked.

  “He is in a constant state of fear, as though he is just waiting for someone to pounce on him and rip his head off! Most of the time he looks like he is too scared to even breathe, much less speak – which he has enough difficulty with on his own without a bunch of pompous, well-to-dos intimidating the life out of him.”

  Something flashed in Cormac’s eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  As that wasn’t the question I was expecting, it threw me a bit. “He has a speech impediment of some sort. He stutters a little.”

  “Is he still here?” Cormac asked, seeming oddly interested. “Can you point him out?”

  I looked back over to the corner, but Steven was gone. “No,” I said, glancing around the room to see if he’d moved, “he’s gone.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Dark hair, green eyes, about my age. His name is–”

  “Steven,” Cormac finished for me.

  “Wait,” I said, my confusion growing, “you know him?”

  Cormac nodded. “Who told you he was a staff member?”

  “Well, no one. I could tell he wasn’t a Holder, so I just assumed, I guess. Isn’t he?”

  “No,” Cormac shook his head a sad sigh, “Steven doesn’t work here. He is Brassal and Alva’s son.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Wait… what?” I stammered, barely comprehending what I’d heard. “He’s her son?”

  “Yes,” Cormac nodded.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, picturing the fear in his eyes and the way he’d been treated. “And what happened to this Bastian she wanted to introduce me to, I thought that was her son?”

  “He is; Bastian and Steven are brothers, twins actually. But…” he paused, looking wary, “Steven is… not well accepted amongst the Bhunaidh. You see, he was born with certain defects that they consider unacceptable for a family line as ancient and distinguished as the Blochs.”

  “What, his stutter?” I asked, appalled. “That’s stupid, he can’t…” But something in Cormac’s eyes caused my thought to trail off. It was more than the stutter, I could see that. I could also see that he believed it was something that I was already aware of, but I was at a loss. Then I thought back to our first meeting that afternoon in the hall, and why I’d assumed he was a member of the staff in the first place. “He doesn’t have an ability.”

  Cormac gave a small nod.

  “How can that be?” Alex asked. “I thought both of his parents are pureblooded. Doesn’t that guarantee that any children they have would be Holders?”

  “It should mean that, yes,” Cormac agreed, “but for whatever reason,
for Steven it did not. Bastian was born a Porter like his father, while Steven was born an average mortal, completely without ability.” I had no idea what ability a Porter had, but at the moment I could not have cared less.

  “Was it because they were twins?” Alex asked interested, while I on the other hand had fists resting in my lap that were hard as rocks.

  “Could be,” Cormac mused. “There are not many instance of twins in Holder history, much less pureblooded, so that may have something to do with it, though it is far more likely that it is simply a birth defect like any other.”

  “You’re telling me,” I ground out under my breath, unable to keep my cool any longer, “that they shun him like some illegitimate bastard child, all because he was born without an ability?”

  “Now, my dear,” Cormac said, quickly taking my hand and trying to calm me. “It’s horrid, I know–”

  “Is everything all right?” Jocelyn’s concerned voice suddenly came from over my shoulder. “Becca?”

  “We were just having a conversation… about Steven,” Cormac said casually, though his eyes were still worried.

  “I see,” Jocelyn said, his tone making it clear that he did in fact know exactly what was going on. “Becca,” he said calmly, “the refreshment room is just down the way, why don’t we get a drink?”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, not in the mood for the lecture on my temper I knew was coming.

  “Becca,” he said, his voice deliberate now as he offered me his arm. “You need a drink.”

  I stood with a silent huff and took his arm, letting him lead me out to the opposite side of the room and through an open door into a large parlor connected to the main gallery. The room was more brightly lit than the gallery and was lined with long tables piled high with what I could only assume were some of the finest hors d’oeuvres, cheeses, and fruits the manor had to offer.

  Jocelyn turned us toward the bar area that had been set up in one corner, but halfway there and with no one else nearby, I decided that I’d been silent long enough.

  “Do not tell me you are going to defend them!” I whispered as loudly as I could without being overheard.

  “I have no intention of defending them, but it is also not your place to condemn them.”

  “What? How can you say that? This is just wrong! That woman should be–”

  “Alva and Brassal provide both their sons with the highest quality of life and the best education available.”

  “Right,” I whispered with a sneer, “never mind affection or love they don’t have to earn…”

  “I realize that something like this is not what you are used to, but–”

  “Oh my God…” I cut in, not believing what I was hearing. “You’re actually OK with this!”

  Jocelyn paused, scowling at the air in front of him for a moment before discreetly pulling me over to a vacant corner of the room. “No,” he whispered forcefully once he was certain there was no one paying us any mind. “I am not OK with any of it. I think it is the most horrid thing in the world for a child to have grown up being treated like an outsider even within his own family. I cannot fathom parents having it within themselves to treat their own child so poorly and the very idea that Alva and Brassal believe that they are justified in their actions sickens me.” He paused with a breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders. “But there is nothing I can do. I have tried several times to bring Steven to St Brigid’s and give him the chance to escape his life here, but each time it was no use. Brassal and Alva will not allow it, and though Steven is of an age now to make his own decisions, he is not willing to leave against his parents’ wishes.”

  “Why?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “I am not sure, though I believe it is simply because that is what his parents want. Difficult as they have made things for him, I believe there is still a part of him that wishes to please them in any way he can.”

  When he stopped I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” is what I finally decided on. I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing for sort of losing it, or for actually thinking he would be OK with such a horrible situation, but either way, his eyes softened and he nodded.

  “Becca, please believe that I am not asking you to accept or take part in the prejudice toward Steven,” he said after a moment, “but I do need you to realize that your actions, while they will never get you into any trouble, could make things harder on him.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but then I thought about how Steven kept telling me that I wasn’t supposed to be talking to him. I’d taken it to mean that he thought I wouldn’t want to talk to him, but what if he’d meant that he wasn’t allowed to talk to me?

  “Oh no…” I mouthed as I realized what I might have done. “He isn’t going to get in trouble because of me, is he? I didn’t know…” Suddenly I felt horrible, and the more horrible I felt for getting Steven in trouble, the angrier I felt toward not just his parents, but to their entire way of life. The fact that it was even possible to get someone in trouble for having a conversation with them was miles past ridiculous.

  “I’m sure it will be all right,” Jocelyn said. “Just keep it in mind, and perhaps keep your distance in the future if at all possible.”

  I glanced down and nodded, though it went against every single instinct I had. All I could think about was how much Steven was like Ryland. Ry had spent his life getting made fun of, picked on, or just plain avoided by everyone around him for being different. But through it all, at least Ry had had me to take care of him and protect him wherever I could. Steven didn’t seem to have anyone, and I knew it would take everything I had to fight the urge to step in and be that person for him.

  I was a protector; had been all my life. If someone was hurt or needed help, then I had to step in and do whatever I could. It was just my nature. Yet now, someone within my reach was suffering and I was expected to stand by and do nothing – or worse, try to help him and inadvertently make it worse. Helplessness was not a feeling I was accustomed to, but for the moment I was prepared to embrace it. Some may have considered that defeat, but only those who are shortsighted. I, on the other hand, knew that helplessness was only a state of mind, and that there was always a way if you were patient and willing to take the time to look for it.

  And I was.

  “Come,” Jocelyn said with a smile, offering me his arm again. “We should return to the gallery. The welcome addresses will begin shortly.”

  “Sounds like a hoot,” I said, earning me a low chuckle.

  “Yes, well,” he huffed a laugh as I took his arm, “do try to keep your excitement in check.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I grinned, as he led me through the refreshment room and back into the diamond-studded snake pit.

  “Dear Lord, another one?” I grumbled quietly as the seventh speaker took the microphone and began to address the room.

  The “welcome” that Jocelyn had mentioned, and that I had thought would be a quick “thanks for coming and enjoy the night” sort of thing, was turning into the wedding toast from hell. The kind of toast where the best man makes his speech then for some reason every distant relation imaginable comes out of the woodwork and wants to “say a few words,” and before you know it your dinner is cold and your champagne is flat. Though in this case, instead of quirky uncles and well-meaning second cousins talking our ears off, it was a family matriarch going on about her distinguished line, or an old man covered in medals recounting the thirty-two different wars he’d served in. And of course each person was sure to go on and on about how much being a Bhunaidh had meant to them, and how important it was that the Bhunaidh way of life be treasured, and preserved, and blah, blah, blah… And if all that weren’t bad enough, more than half the speeches were given in Gaelic. Though, if nothing else, that did at least give me a legitimate reason to stand next to Alex who would cast the translations for me to read.

  Or pretend to read…

  “How many mor
e do you think?” I whispered to Alex, who was way better at faking an interest in the proceedings than I was.

  He didn’t even glance my way, but a moment later smoky script appeared directly in my line of vision, “Patience is a virtue.”

  I turned my head slowly, giving him my best “not amused” scowl, while of course his jaw was locked to keep from smiling. I turned back to the speaker as he began his monologue – in Gaelic. Great.

  “Should I even bother?” appeared in front of me, and I smiled. So he did know I’d given up on reading his translations.

  “If he’s done something interesting,” I whisper.

  “What qualifies as interesting?”

  “You know, climbing Mount Everest, wrestling alligators, that sort of thing.” No sooner did I finish my sentence, than I watched an anthropomorphized alligator appear at the speaker’s side. It was standing up on its hind legs smiling, and had an arm wrapped around his shoulder as though they were the best of friends. “Don’t do that!” I snipped quietly, biting back a laugh.

  I was seriously considering poking him in the ribs, when something across the room caught my eye. It was a young man, standing just behind that now empty patch of air where the alligator had been. I’d not noticed him before, which was odd as he was wearing a cape – an actual, honest to God cape – with a blood red lining and a gold chain closure that draped from his right shoulder to under his left arm, making him somewhat hard to miss. His hair was dark, and he seemed to be on the tall side, while his chest was covered with more medals and pins than I could even make out from across the room – far more than any of the other young men his age. But there was something else about him. Something I couldn’t put a name to, but that itched at my subconscious like a buried memory trying to dig its way free.

  Then it occurred to me – he looked… familiar? That didn’t make any sense. Maybe he just had one of those faces. The sort of person you see and say, “I know it isn’t, but doesn’t he look like…?” But then who did he remind me of? I squinted, hoping to get a better look, but given the distance between us and the dimmed “mood lighting” of the room, I wasn’t having much luck.