by Marisa Mills
Maybe because I didn’t want to. Or maybe because I believed there really might be something more to Dorian. But it didn’t matter. If Du Lac really had the power to expel me, it meant I’d never complete my mission, and I couldn’t risk that. I’d have to steal from Dorian so I could steal for him. I sighed, fixing Du Lac with a resigned gaze.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
***
The next few days at the Academy were strange. My classmates met me with respectful nods and smiles. Everyone knew I’d defeated a demon, and it seemed like that had made me one of them. A mage like them. A celebrity even, or a hero. That was, of course, except for Viviane. She continued glaring at me in Du Lac’s class, challenging me in Delacroix’s class, and bumping into me in our dormitory. I dealt with it. Now that Du Lac was blackmailing me, I knew it was even more important that I behave myself and disappear as much as possible, but that was hard to do with people watching me all the time.
I sat in Du Lac’s sigils class, trying to copy the patterns he’d made in the air. It was supposed be a fire spell, which I felt Du Lac had chosen just to mock me. He kept smirking at me because I couldn’t create it. I was tempted to use the device in my pocket to create the illusion of fire, but I knew that was a bad idea. I didn’t need to show off, especially not to spite him.
A few of my classmates had already managed it. I grimaced at my paper, black with ink. “What am I doing wrong?” I whispered. “It looks just like his.”
I tried tracing the lines again, making them thicker and darker. “Please, make fire,” I whispered.
Viviane turned around and scowled at me. “Are you talking to yourself?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Well, stop it. Some of us are trying to concentrate,” she said, flipping her hair.
“Sorry,” I replied.
I sighed and turned my attention back to my paper.
“I think it’s in the way you’ve drawn the lower half,” Alexander said.
I looked up at him, surprised he’d offered to help. He’d barely spoken to me since the accident. He cleared his throat and ran his finger down the lower half of my sigil. “The way you’ve curved the bottom looks a little shaky for me. That’s why you aren’t getting the fire you want.”
I frowned and tried adjusting the bottom curve, making it more obvious. Still, nothing happened. “Please, work,” I murmured.
The air around me crackled. A distant roaring filled my ears. A small plume of smoke appeared, rising upwards. I jumped. How had that happened?
And the smoke kept rising, its tendrils white and curling in the air. Suddenly, Du Lac was there. “The goal was to summon fire,” he said, his arms crossed.
Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, Lucian said. Tell him that.
“I tried,” I replied.
“And are you expecting praise for a poorly drawn sigil just because it did something?” Du Lac asked. “Clearly, you lack the temperament for this, if you consider anything to be a success.”
The tendrils of smoke were growing higher and higher. Still, no fire appeared. But the smoke was becoming thick. Alexander and Viviane both shifted away. I clambered out of my seat. The smoke wasn’t stopping, and I had no idea why. I didn’t even know how I’d done this!
“What did you do?” Du Lac snapped, breaking into a fit of coughs.
Why didn’t he know? He was the sigils professor!
“I don’t know!” I yelled. What if the smoke just didn’t stop? What if it just kept going and going until it filled the whole room?
Du Lac stormed across the room and swiped the pen of his desk. My heartbeat raced. The black smoke was rising to the ceiling and spreading like a cloud.
“Nice job, Summer!” Viviane snapped.
But if it was coming from my sigil, maybe I could stop this by messing with the sigil. Smearing the ink or something. I grabbed my pen and drew a line through the sigil, hoping it would stop the smoke. Du Lac grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Don’t do that!” he snapped. “What if you—”
With a roar, lightning erupted from my sigil and shot towards the ceiling. My jaw dropped. As the smoke cleared, I saw a black, charred mark spread across the stone ceiling.
Twenty-Two
I SPENT THE NEXT FEW nights digging through the archives, but found nothing. Not only was I returning to Rosewood empty-handed, but this time I was supposed to steal a priceless tiara from Dorian’s dead mother. On Friday, I loaded up on food to drop for Briar and Sterling, in case this was my last chance. The way things were going, I’d either get caught stealing for Du Lac, or for Dorian, or expelled for blowing up half the school.
How had I created lightning? That hadn’t been the device, or Dorian, or Lucian… that was me, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? I’d always thought there was a concrete difference between humans and sky dwellers. You were either a mage, or you weren’t. But if I could make magic happen, that meant it wasn’t true, and anyone could learn magic if they knew the steps and rituals that went with it. I thought about my entrance exam and the burned curtains. I’d assumed that had been a trick of Dorian’s, but what if it hadn’t been? What if that fire had actually been me? It didn’t make any sense. Maybe Alexander had done it somehow. Of course, he had no reason to be so helpful, but maybe he’d decided that we were something like friends. Despite how he’d been treating me recently.
After school I headed to the edge of Reverie to drop the bundle of food through the grate, along with a letter about how everything was going up here. I didn’t want them to worry, so I only told them the good things. I hoped they were eating most of the food themselves, at least some of it, before they took it back to the Scraps. Or was Sterling’s mom keeping it hidden? Maybe they’d ferreted some away to trade. I was bolder this time, and included some cured meat, sausages and half a raw cabbage I’d stolen from the kitchen. It was almost satisfying to rip up one of the fancy dresses Francisca had folded neatly into my trunk, wrap it around my illicit contraband, and drop it off the Floats. A small act of rebellion against an untenable situation. Once the food was dropped, I headed to Dorian’s estate.
The intricate, wrought iron fence that ran around the length of Dorian’s estate was only five minutes away. I arrived shortly before sunset, pushed open the gate and walked down the stone pathway to the entrance of his house, although calling it a house seemed absurd. This place was practically a castle. The door opened before I reached it.
“Miss Wilcox!” Francisca greeted, waving me in. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I—um—like your dress.”
It was a pretty dress, pale blue with sleeves that fell off her shoulders. “So does my Lord,” Francisca said, her brown eyes bright with mischief. “Lady Eleanor says it’s far too extravagant for a lady of my station.”
“Oh, is she here today?”
“Speaking to my Lord, in fact,” Francisca said. “Shall I inform them of your presence?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not necessary. I’ll just wait until Dorian is finished.”
“Certainly,” Francisca replied. “Do you require anything else? Refreshments, perhaps?”
I shook my head. This was so weird.
Not really, Lucian said. She’s treating you like the guest of a nobleman.
“Very well,” Francisca said. “Do let me know if there’s anything further you require.”
“Thank you,” I said, excusing myself as quickly as I could. I was in no rush to speak with Lady Eleanor, and the distraction gave me an opening to look for the tiara. But could I really do this? As I walked across the wide, marble floor towards the stairs, I considered just waiting for Dorian and telling him everything. He might be angry that I’d been caught, but he wasn’t unreasonable. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to weigh the odds. In my experience, adults usually couldn’t be depended on. Even if they let your mistakes go, they collected them up for later and t
hrew them back in your face. “What do you think I should do?” I asked.
Personally, I loathe mages, Lucian said. Steal a few more things while you’re at it.
Dorian wasn’t a bad person, though. I had never stolen from someone who was nice to me before.
He’s protecting an investment, Lucian said. You just haven’t seen his teeth yet.
Maybe not. But I’d worked for Gabriel, and he’d never cared anything about me.
So one of them is a better businessman, Lucian replied, an edge to his voice. The nobleman realizes that you must nurture an investment until it bears fruit.
Hearing that shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. And anyway, I didn’t have to decide until I actually found the tiara. Maybe if I couldn’t find it quickly, I could abandon the endeavor then and just ask Dorian for it. But for now, I’d see if I could find it myself while he was distracted. I tried to remember the brief tour I’d gotten on my first night at Rosewood. My rooms were on the second floor. But I had no idea where anything else was.
I walked down a long, carpeted hallway and frowned as I looked at room after room. “Lucian, if you had to hide a tiara, where would you hide it?” I muttered.
I don’t know, Lucian said. I’m not exactly the tiara type, in case you haven’t noticed.
I tried a door to my left; it opened without difficulty and revealed a massive ballroom, decorated in green and gold. Probably not in there. I frowned and closed that door. One down, a hundred or so to go.
I kept going, checking door after door. Some of them opened easily; others were locked. I made a mental note of those and kept going. If I didn’t find the tiara in one of the unlocked rooms, I would have to go back and look through the locked ones at night. A few servants walked past me, but they never tried to stop me from looking around.
I climbed the stairs to the next floor and looked through the rooms once more. There was no way I could search every room before Dorian came looking for me. It would’ve taken a week just to look everywhere. For now, I was just doing reconnaissance. Dorian had never said that I couldn’t look around his estate. But if I couldn’t find that tiara, what was I going to do about Du Lac?
I don’t suppose setting him on fire is an option?
“I’m not setting him on fire!”
I walked into another room. This one appeared to be a bedroom, one of many bedrooms that Dorian appeared to have in his estate. The room was rose and gold, clearly a lady’s room. Across the doorway, there was a massive window and a balcony that overlooked the vast gardens. I could see the gleaming silver fence around Reverie and the line where the land ended and met the sky, and if I’d been on the balcony, I was sure I could’ve looked straight down to the Lower Realms. I shivered. I’d never realized how close we were to the edge before.
I drifted in, walking past a large cherrywood piano, a table, and chairs. There wasn’t any tiara that I could see. I entered a parlor, pausing by a massive portrait of Amelia. That seemed promising, at least.
This was the largest bedroom I’d ever seen, featuring a giant bed and a good deal of furniture. At the foot of the bed, there was a trunk like the kind we had at the Academy. I crouched before opening it. There were clothes cluttered together with musty-smelling books and papers. I shuffled through it, searching for anything that looked remotely like a tiara.
I moved to the dresser. It was mostly empty, save for a few scattered buttons and bits of jewelry. I’d expected something more. I slammed the drawer shut and opened the next one. It was just as sparse. Another drawer and no tiara. I shut the last drawer a little harder than necessary. Why was all this furniture empty? “It’s not here,” I muttered. “Where is it?”
“Ahem,” a polite cough made me jump. Lady Eleanor stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed on my hands, which were still in the open drawer of her mother’s bedroom.
***
“Wynter, was it?”
She wore a bright scarlet dress; her mother’s mourning period must’ve ended. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet,” she said. “I am Eleanor, Baroness of Sherringford.”
I curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my Lady.”
Eleanor turned her gaze to the dresser and pulled open a couple of the drawers, before slamming them closed again. Her movements had a wild, sharp sort of energy. Finally, her attention landed on me. I half expected her to scream for help or zap me with magic. Instead she crossed her arms and strode into the room.
“I wish I could say the same,” she said, lowering her voice. “You haven’t listened to Viviane, so perhaps, you’ll listen to me. I don’t know why Dorian has brought you to Reverie, but if you sabotage Viviane’s courtship with Alexander, I will see to it that you’re never heard from again. I have worked far too hard to have my plans undermined.” Her eyes were manic, almost hysterical.
Maybe if she can’t win the princeling, she doesn’t deserve him, Lucian said.
“I’m not trying to sabotage anything,” I replied.
“I’d like to believe that, Wynter,” Eleanor said, “But I just don’t.” She thought Dorian brought me here simply to ruin Viviane? Would he really be so cruel?
This family is exhausting, Lucian said. Can you imagine being related to any of them? I think I’d flee the kingdom.
A throat cleared. Dorian stood leaning against the doorway. Eleanor’s attention snapped to him. “Where is our mother’s jewelry?”
“You mean my jewelry,” Dorian replied.
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t sold it all for money, have you?”
“No, I merely prefer to keep my wealth where it can’t be stolen. I’d be more concerned about your finances. At the rate you’re going, poor Viviane might have to marry a merchant’s son to free you from debt.”
“Then, perhaps, you ought to employ for help. I’m appalled by how few servants you have. It’s no wonder the place is crawling with thieves.” She let her gaze drop to me pointedly.
“And I’m appalled by how obvious your husband is with his affairs. That reflects so poorly on you, Eleanor.”
“Be careful, Wynter. If you anger him, he might hurl you down a flight of stairs.”
“If I hurled everyone who angered me down the stairs, you wouldn’t be here,” Dorian replied.
Eleanor smiled sharply and strode from the room with a sort of affected regality. Dorian beckoned for me, so I trailed along and fidgeted with my hands. I looked away as Eleanor and Dorian exchanged their farewells, and all too soon, the doors were closed. I wondered how they could kiss cheeks after all the hateful things they’d said about each other.
Did Eleanor really suspect Dorian of murdering their mother? Was he really so terrible, and I just couldn’t see it? Maybe Lucian was right. Francisca appeared out of nowhere and handed Dorian a glass of red wine. He looked utterly bewildered by its appearance.
“What’s this for?”
“You’re always in a dark mood after speaking with Lady Eleanor,” Francisca said, “With all due respect, my Lord.”
Great.
“You always make with all due respect sound profoundly like an insult,” Dorian replied.
“It’s difficult to respect a man who is so terrible at cards,” Francisca said. “I’m afraid that has given me a terrible impression of your whole character.”
She’s rather friendly with him, isn’t she? Lucian asked mischievously.
Was she?
“How ever shall I redeem myself?” Dorian asked, adding a theatrical sigh.
“I’ll be quite happy to help you find your road to redemption, Your Lordship.”
I’d rather not watch this woman’s dismal attempts to charm her master, Lucian said.
Maybe Francisca was just being nice.
“Thank you, Fran,” Dorian said, in a dismissive tone.
Francisca bowed and walked away. Despite Lucian’s complaints, I really hadn’t wanted her to leave. Dorian took a few si
ps of wine before finally looking at me; his face was hard to read.
“Do you want to explain what you were doing, rifling through my mother’s drawers?” he asked. I exhaled sharply. The only chance now was to tell the truth and hope he’d forgive me.
“I was caught,” I admitted, wringing my hands together.
“Quite clearly,” he said.
“No, not by Eleanor. Outside of my room when I wasn’t supposed to be,” I replied. “Professor Du Lac said I could be expelled.”
“Where outside your room?” he asked.
“Just the corridors,” I said.
“And you believed him? I was caught outside my room all the time. The worst I ever had to do was clean the ballroom floors.”
My face flushed in embarrassment. “He said he found evidence of dark magic in my things, but I haven’t been…I don’t know where those came from.”
“I see. Please continue.”
“So he wanted me to steal a tiara from you.”
Dorian looked taken aback. “Markus wants you to steal from me,” he repeated.
“I know your mother wore it,” I said. “It’s sapphires and pearls.”
“But why would Markus want that?” Dorian asked, seemingly more to himself than me. “There’s nothing special about it.”
“Maybe he’s looking for the charm?” I suggested.
“What charm?”
“I overheard Professor Gareth mention a charm that Guinevere might have,” I replied. “I’d assumed you were looking for that.”
“I’m not. I’ve never even heard of it. I’m…trying to recover stolen property,” Dorian said carefully.
But what could be so valuable that it would be worth so much trouble?
My guess is that it’s either sentimental or magical, Lucian mused. Maybe both.
“This certainly complicates our relationship,” Dorian said. “You realize, of course, that you could’ve asked me for it.”
“I—I thought about telling you,” I said, “But I just couldn’t.”