by A. W. Exley
In the bathroom, she closed the door and let the robe fall to the floor. She shut off the taps and stepped into the bath with a sigh. Water licked up her calves, then her thighs, and over her stomach as she sank. At first she lay back, letting the high back of the bath cradle her head as she soaked and let the heat penetrate her bones.
Once the hot water had soothed tired muscles and the oil attached to her skin, Lettie touched her element and let her form shift. As she became the undine, the shimmering creature of water, Lettie slid down the bath and her head dropped below the surface. Her long dark hair flared out around her, like seaweed floating on the ocean. She joined with the bathwater, and it embraced and supported her.
Lettie floated midway in the deep bath, neither touching the bottom of the tub nor breaking the surface. Time stopped as she let her element nurture her body and soul.
The small volume of water still had a multitude of stories to share with her. Images flickered across her skin, and if she concentrated, Lettie could follow one particular stream and watch past events unfold. She gathered to her droplets that told of young lovers caught in an unexpected downpour. The man sheltered the woman at his side. His protective embrace turned erotic as they became soaked through, and they surrendered to the weather and each other.
The bang caught Lettie’s attention first, and then the picture of the young lovers dissolved as she was torn from her element. Her mind was ripped away from its connection with the water and shoved back into her body. Lettie gasped as she broke the surface and struggled for breath at the sudden change. Her mind spun, disoriented. Something pressed on her, suffocating her.
Lettie tried to fight off the linen-covered wall with her hands, and then it turned into Grayson, holding her tight as hauled her out of the bath. He thumped on her back with one hand.
“Breathe, Lettie, breathe.”
“I’m trying, you fool, if you would stop hitting me.” She pushed him away and drew a deep breath. Her Elemental form settled back down within her and her head cleared, allowing her to think. Another breath and she fully returned to human and raised her eyes to the doctor. “What did you think you were doing?”
“I—I thought you had drowned.” Grayson sat back on his heels, the front of his shirt soaked from where he had held her. The damp linen revealed the faint trace of muscle definition over his chest and the swirls of tight hair.
Lettie wiped her hands over her face and pushed wet hair out of her eyes. “Undines cannot drown. I was hydrating.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. When I came in here and saw you under the water, I didn’t think. I just acted.” His hazel eyes widened and he swallowed.
Lettie leaned against the side of the bath, her breasts pressed to the warmed enamel.
Grayson’s gaze ran from her face, over the swoop of her waist and down to her long legs. Then he turned away and rose, picking up the discarded robe. “You should really lock the door while bathing so no one disturbs you.”
“I thought an empty house was sufficient to ensure I was undisturbed. How was I to know you would barge in and try to rescue me from my element?” Droplets ran down her arms and over her torso. Each one kissed her goodbye as they flowed back into the tub.
She wanted to drop back below the surface and pick up the lost strands of the story she had watched. Another part of her wanted Grayson to turn around and see her. To look at her with the same heat and longing that flared in Byron’s eyes. To offer to write his own story on her damp skin.
She frowned. Why did it matter how Grayson perceived her? She was a sister to him, and he would never see her any other way. She sank lower in the bath, seeking the reassuring touch of the water.
He balled up the silk robe in his hands. His voice was whisper soft when he spoke. “I thought you Ophelia, plunged to your death in the lake. I could not bear to lose you.”
Ah. He was still distressed over the patient he had lost and feared Lettie would add to his death tally.
Lettie snorted. “If I am Ophelia, would you cast Byron as Hamlet? Because I can assure you, I am in no danger of pining for his love. I know the game we play. We are all just pretending, are we not?”
“Yes, everything is just pretend,” he murmured. He placed the robe over the back of a chair.
“Is the boy going to survive, the one who fell from his horse?” She hoped he hadn’t also died. Grayson might not withstand losing two patients in one week. He seemed to take death rather personally.
He paused with his hand on the door handle, his rigid back to her. “He has a head injury and a broken leg, but as long as infection doesn’t set into the bone, he should survive.”
“I am glad you could save him. At least one father is not grieving tonight.” In just a few short days, he had already made a large impact for the community. She wished she could do more to be helpful. She would talk to Jasper. Perhaps he would send her to the best universities in England to learn medicine. Then she could work beside Grayson as an equal, and he might finally see her.
“Returning to our purpose here, perhaps over dinner we could lay out what we have learned so far and determine our next course of action?” Grayson spoke to the closed door in front of him.
“Yes, there is much to discuss. I’ll be down once I have dressed.” Since he wasn’t going to turn around and devour her naked form with his gaze, Lettie settled in the bath and let the water whisk away the remains of her agitation.
“Of course,” he said and closed the door quietly behind him without even a glance back at her. But then one wouldn’t want to sneak a look at one’s sister, pretend or not.
Lettie took her time to dress, putting on the same functional gown that she wore during the day. As her fingers worked at buttons, her mind was a dragonfly skimming over the surface of a lake. She lingered on one idea and then darted off on a tangent. One moment she wondered if she should read medical texts, or whether a woman could even train to be a doctor, and then next she contemplated the way Grayson’s wet shirt clung to the lines of his chest.
By the time she walked downstairs, she found everyone assembled in the parlour, waiting for her before they could go through to dinner. She murmured her apologies and let Samuel lead them through. She took her seat next to Marjory and opposite Grayson. The older couple were chatty over dinner. Grayson seemed to stare at his plate a lot and avoided eye contact with Lettie. Probably embarrassed at seeing his sister naked.
Lettie decided it was time to tackle more serious subjects than growing leeks, the current conversation between Samuel and Marjory. The nurse was teasing the Elemental that he had an unfair advantage when it came to mounding up earth around the vegetables to blanch the stems. Lettie hoped her companion hadn’t forgotten Hector, who waited for her to return.
She cleared her throat. “Byron showed me the offices of Ocram and Lawson today. He said that in forty years they have never lost a single vessel at sea.”
“Except for the Esmeralda, though.” Grayson looked up at last, a slight frown on his face.
Lettie set down her cutlery. “That is where it becomes strange. He insisted not a single vessel has ever been lost in the history of the firm.”
Grayson’s upper lip curled as he considered her words for a moment. “But one did sink, unless the Esmeralda was never lost. Either way, he’s probably lying about something.”
“Soarers are known as liars,” Samuel reiterated from the head of the table.
Lettie had considered that, and it had gnawed at her all day. When she immersed herself in the water, she had discovered another way of looking at the problem. “What if there is a third option? What if the Esmeralda never existed?”
“What makes you say that?” Samuel asked.
She had little evidence, but it was more what she didn’t have, or failed to find, that made her consider the notion that the ship was fictional. “In their offices, they have a room with pictures of all the vessels they have ever built, but one is missing. I could not find any painting or photog
raph of the Esmeralda.”
Grayson tapped his forefinger on his knife as he thought. “It could be as simple as the picture is elsewhere being cleaned or framed. Who knows? But it is something we can quietly ask of the ship workers. The lads are very proud of the boats they work on, and they will know if the Esmeralda was among them.”
“Or she might have had a different name?” Marjory suggested.
Samuel made a noise deep in his throat. “Possibly, but it’s bad luck to change a ship’s name.”
Marjory’s face lit up. “Speaking of different names, I had a lovely, long chat with Old Ellen Bassett today.”
“And how old was she?” Grayson smiled. Old Charlie hadn’t been more than twenty, so they’d speculated that Old Ellen might be thirty.
“My age. Not so much old as ancient, perhaps?” Marjory took a sip of her wine.
The doctor coloured and returned to staring at his plate. He wasn’t having a good day where women were concerned.
“What does that have to do with names?” Lettie asked, before they got too far off track.
Marjory winked before she shared her information with them. “Ah. Yes. Ellen clearly remembers the Uxbridges—or, as she was known when she first arrived alone and with child in Whiterock, Verity Farnham.”
Silence descended over the room as Marjory’s revelation sank in. You could have heard a pin drop. Or a fork clatter to the table, as was the case when Lettie dropped hers.
“James Uxbridge wasn’t Dawn’s father.” All her life Dawn had thought both her parents normal humans. Only recently she discovered her mother was a Meidh, a being of the fifth element. Could her real father also be an Elemental? That was something to convey to Jasper. He could figure out how to break it to his mate that her father wasn’t the man she always thought he was.
“If James Uxbridge isn’t Dawn’s father, then who is?” Grayson asked the question everyone was thinking.
A sad expression dropped over Marjory’s face. “Ellen didn’t know. Verity would only ever say that he died and left her with something of value to provide for her and the child. Ellen took her to Sunderland to find an accountant to administer the investment, and they wound up in James Uxbridge’s office. He was smitten on first sight apparently and married Verity just before Dawn was born.”
“The mystery deepens. If only we could discover where she came from.” Samuel gazed off into the middle distance as though he tried to pluck the information from the minds of his watchers.
Lettie raised her hand, like a child with something to contribute in the school room. “That reminds me of another comment Byron made. He said all the Meidh in this area are aligned to his family, and they chase away any that try to remain neutral. Which leaves us with the puzzle of Verity Uxbridge. Was she in service of the Soarers, or did they never know she was here? And if the Ocrams and Lawsons didn’t know she lived right under their noses, how is that you knew about her, Samuel?” Lettie’s mind spun with all the different splinters breaking away from their main goal. The more they learned, the more questions it raised.
Samuel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “The day Verity arrived, one of my watchers sensed she was an Elemental. I never saw her go anywhere near the Ocram mansion. I cannot understand why their seekers never sniffed her out?”
“Can you mask what you are?” Grayson asked.
“Not that I’m aware of. That’s why I needed a background Byron would believe. I cannot conceal what I am, and he knew me for an undine when he stood near me.” Lettie had never heard of such a thing, but then she was still young compared to Samuel.
“It might be possible to conceal yourself, but it would take a Meidh of great power to work such a change,” Samuel spoke off to the distance, as though he conversed with someone no longer present.
Lettie couldn’t recall ever hearing of a Meidh who could hide an Elemental’s nature, but there were so many traits and thousands of ways their power could manifest. If Verity had cloaked herself, it was only partially successful. “Whatever it was, it hid a Meidh from a Soarer but not a Warder. You knew when she arrived here, and the Leicester Lord Warder knew when they moved to Whetstone.”
“Let me think on it. I have centuries of memories to sort through, but there is something familiar about the possibility, as though I have encountered it before.” Samuel tapped the side of his head.
“One more thing. Ellen was thrilled to know Dawn is thriving, and could you please ask Lord Seton if they could extend a wedding invitation to her? She would love to see Dawn again,” Marjory asked of the old Warder.
Samuel nodded. “I’ll send the message along with the next raven soon. We have much to tell the earl.”
Lettie reached for her wine glass and took a fortifying sip. Her next piece of information would probably be relayed to Jasper also. She just hoped he didn’t have time to object. “There is a ball at the Ocram mansion in two days, and Byron has asked me to attend.”
“No,” Samuel and Grayson spoke in unison.
Marjory paled but left the conversation to the men.
“No Warder can walk into a Soarer compound. They will kill you.” Samuel placed his hands flat on the table, and from the tips of his fingers, the change raced up his arms until a gargoyle rose from the chair. He kept his clawed wings furled lest he tear the wallpaper or score the panelling. Muscles bunched and flexed in enormous stone arms as though he fought the urge to lash out. His face was chiselled with a deep scowl.
Grayson frowned but didn’t look anywhere near as fierce as the gargoyle with his temper and protective instincts roused.
“Calm down, Samuel. Byron says I would be under his protection, and no harm will befall me.” Lettie kept her voice quiet.
Angry gargoyles were stubborn creatures with their heads turned to granite. They were worse than mules to argue with, and it took a gentle touch to soothe them.
“And you believe a specimen of the creatures who murdered your brother and savaged you?” His wings snapped open as he flung out one arm. One wing embedded its claws in the wall. Samuel growled as he pulled it back, and a strip of wallpaper tore away and dangled from his claw. He shook his wing to dislodge it, but the strip remained as he closed the paper-thin wings.
Lettie stared at her hands. The hands that had fought the salamander who tried to rape her. The hands that had held the frozen remains of her brother and scrabbled in the dirt to find all his missing pieces. She closed her eyes to stave off tears. Forty years could wind backwards in a heartbeat.
She would never forget.
“I have faced them before, and I will do so again. I will do whatever I have to for our family and to restore the balance.” And for vengeance, she whispered in her mind.
The Soarers would fall, so that the Warders might rise again.
14
“Absolutely not. As your brother, pretend or not, I forbid it. It is madness.” Grayson slammed his fist down on the table.
Lettie jumped as cutlery rattled. She couldn’t recollect ever seeing such a violent reaction from the quiet doctor before. She took a moment to steady her nerves by correcting the positioning of her knife and fork.
“How fortunate then that I am mad and you are not my actual brother,” she murmured.
“You are not mad. Please don’t say that about yourself. But this course of action is ill advised.” Grayson extended one hand as though to reach for her across the table, and then he changed his mind and ran it through his hair instead.
Samuel and all his seven feet of solid granite stood at the end of the table and nodded in agreement with the doctor. He looked like a statue someone had taken from the garden and plonked down in the dining room. He would have looked rather intimidating if not for the strip of wallpaper still dangling from the claw at the tip of one wing. “Jasper would tear my wings off if he caught so much as a whisper of what you plan.”
Convincing both Warder and her pretend brother would take some work. Oddly, Lettie trusted Byron about en
suring no harm befell her. It would suit his dry sense of humour to dangle her before his Soarer family, knowing they couldn’t touch her. At the same time he could watch her squirm as she wondered if he would keep his word or not.
“The more we learn here, the more questions are raised. If we are to discover the truth of the Esmeralda and about Verity Uxbridge, I need to stay close to Byron. I am not blind to the risk, but there are more lives at stake here than mine.” She kept her tone low as she tried to make Samuel see reason.
The whole community of Whiterock suffered under Soarer rule, even if they didn’t directly know that Elementals influenced their lives. Over a period of decades, Soarers sucked communities dry as they used and abandoned the inhabitants. They allowed families to break down and businesses to fail; nothing mattered so long as they lined their own pockets.
“There are other ways to gather information. We have access to the ship workers now through my work as the local doctor.” Grayson lowered his tone and tried a more conciliatory approach.
“Ship workers will not know what happened to the investors’ money. We need access to financial records, and those are controlled by Lawson. Besides, I will not go alone to the ball. Byron has extended his invitation to my brother.” She met Grayson’s worried hazel eyes. Would he agree to escort her?
He ran a hand through his hair again. It was like a nervous tic, but at least he wasn’t frowning like Jasper did. He let out an audible sigh and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t have any formal wear, and I am a healer not a fighter, but I will stand by your side, whatever you get yourself into. I will not leave you alone to face them all.”
Lettie flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Samuel grunted and his body creaked. Then he shook loose his outer form. Chunks of rock and stone flew through the air and vanished before they hit anyone. As a human he took his chair again and leaned his arms on the table. “I don’t like it one bit. But I also know the futility of trying to dissuade you once you have made up your mind. We can only hope that, for once, a Soarer keeps his word and nothing happens to either of you.”