by Emma Newman
Cathy struggled to imagine her mother in love, not only with someone she wasn’t supposed to marry, but with a person she wasn’t even supposed to be attracted to. Perhaps that cruelty in her was drawn from the same well as passion and love that couldn’t be expressed.
“I suppose you didn’t want any of it—the marriage, kids…” Cathy’s belief that having a child of her own would be a terrible mistake was getting stronger by the minute.
“I didn’t.” Her mother sighed. “I wasn’t as brave as you, Catherine. And I hated you for that. For showing me what I wasn’t.” She breathed in, blinking rapidly. “But not anymore. I’ve done my time. My lover and I have borne children and done everything as we should for our patrons. We’ve been dutiful to our parents and now it’s our time. It’s harder for her; she’s fond of her husband and regrets having to hurt him.”
“While you’re champing at the bit.”
Her mother’s eyes darkened. “You know what he’s like, Catherine, you more than most.”
Cathy nodded, remembering his temper but also the way he’d talked to her in the carriage on the way to her wedding. There was a more thoughtful man there, beneath the rage. He wasn’t going to take being abandoned by his wife well, but she wasn’t going to stand in her mother’s way, either. Her mother had the right to love who she wanted and her father would get over it, eventually. “But how will the two of you survive? Where will you go? Won’t Lord Poppy go mental?”
“We’ve made very careful plans,” her mother said. “The one I love is very resourceful.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me all this before? I wouldn’t have been such a dick about Elizabeth staying and all that.”
Her mother shrugged. “It’s always easy with hindsight. I should have known you would understand. You’ve never fitted in.” She tilted her head. “Are you more like me than I thought?”
“I’m straight,” Cathy said. “It’s just in all the other ways I don’t fit in.” She drew in a deep breath, trying her best to put her own hurts aside. Her mother was trying to escape and regardless of what had passed between them, Cathy felt that helping her was fundamentally the right thing to do. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who’d keep another woman trapped out of spite. “Listen, I’ll help you get the wedding sorted, but you have to tell me the truth: is Elizabeth really happy about it?”
“Catherine, he’s rich and not particularly bright. She knows she’ll have everything she wants and rule the roost, too. She couldn’t be happier.”
Satisfied, Cathy nodded. “Come on, then. Coffee first and then we’ll sort everything out. But I’m not going to put up with any bobbins from Elizabeth, I’m telling you that now.”
• • •
A day in the forge was definitely the best way to handle the fallout from exposing Copper’s ugly secrets. As Des fielded threatening calls from the rest of the Court, he crafted chain links and thought about the strange woman who’d come from the Sorcerer.
When he went back to the house for lunch, Des ran through the messages, each one full of expletives and read in a deadpan monotone. Sam listened as he chewed his sandwich, knowing that at least half of the threats were just grandstanding. They couldn’t afford to cut him out entirely.
“Anything from Nickel?”
“No, sir.”
“And where’s Beatrice?”
“She said she was going for a walk. She made it clear she’d find her own food when she returned.”
“She’s a strange one,” Mrs Morrison said, returning from the pantry with a selection of spices. “I told her I were making a curry for tonight, and she just looked at me like I’d spoken bloody French at her. Didn’t have a clue.”
Sam chuckled. “I don’t think she’s very well travelled, Mrs M.”
“I lent her m’wellies and me coat too. Does she live in Australia or something? Did she not know how cold it is here at this time of year?”
“Something like that.”
“How long is she staying for?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A few days at least.”
“It’s no trouble,” Mrs Morrison said. “I just thought a curry would make a nice change. Them guests you had before were a bit set in their ways. Fussy eaters. Can’t you have someone normal to stay for once?”
Des looked at her, wide-eyed, but Sam didn’t mind. Having someone around who was willing to speak to him like he was a normal person wasn’t just nice, it was necessary. “Sorry, Mrs M. Should I find a nice wife to settle with?”
She nodded. “Not some stuck-up fancy woman neither. Someone with a bit of sense.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. I’ll be in the forge if anyone needs me.”
He worked for the rest of the day, pausing only for the odd cup of tea on the doorstep into the forge, enjoying the heat on his back and the freshness of the air on his face. Here, a world away from corporate bollocks, with the breeze in the trees and the robins digging for worms nearby, he felt at ease. He thought of Leanne in the early days at university and smiled without a choking grief for the first time. He worried about Cathy and whether he should drive down to check if she was okay but felt that would be crossing a line. She knew where he was. But what if she couldn’t phone? What if they’d done something to her?
“Are you making the chains?”
Beatrice was heading over to him, the lower half of her dress spattered with mud. Mrs Morrison’s wellies and coat looked odd, but at least she was warm.
“I’ve been practising the technique,” Sam said, chucking the dregs of tea onto the grass as he stood up. “Not the pure iron bit, though. Not quite sure how to approach that.”
“There are two ways,” she said, almost at the door. “One is to remove the impurities from yourself so you might better recognise those in the metal and remove them.”
“Errr…”
“But that will take too long. The other is to use the old way.”
“The only way I know about is hitting it. Or using tech.”
“Did he teach you nothing at all?”
Sam shook his head. “Amir—the one who was Lord Iron before me—was a bit screwed up about this stuff. And the rest of the Court, too. They don’t know anything about the Fae or anything that isn’t totally normal.”
“They are inferior,” she stated. “Iron is the blood metal, the foundation of all earthly magic.”
“Isn’t copper important too?”
“It only obstructs the flow of Fae magic. It does not break it. Only when in concert with iron does it reach its full potential.”
“Can the other people in the court do…you know…magic?”
“If properly trained. But they are ignorant now. The Sorcerers saw to that.” There was a curl to her lip as she said that.
“They wanted the Court to forget what it was.”
“Of course. Less of a threat, that way. The language of sorcery doesn’t require the Court’s cooperation.”
“But your Sorcerer wants me to make something for him. Why not use sorcery to make these chains?”
She tilted her head at him, studying each of his features in turn. “Iron needs something of you in it, to be at its most powerful. No matter what the Sorcerers said, iron forged by its Elemental Lord has a quality unlike any other. The Fae feel it.”
“And copper?”
“Less so, but yes.”
“So, what have you been up to?” Sam said, indicating the mud on her dress with his empty tea mug. “Getting the lay of the land?”
“I’ve been warding your property against intruders. If I am going to stay here, it needs to be secure.”
Sam was surprised, briefly, before remembering that she worked for a Sorcerer. She must have picked up some stuff along the way. Maybe she was an apprentice. Somehow, he didn’t think she would welcome a question about it. “I’ve got security and cameras covering the perimeter.”
“They may be sufficient for the mundane threats that approach, but not all of the t
hreats out there.” She reflected his frown. “You don’t know about the ones coming to kill you?”
“What?”
“You have many enemies, Lord Iron. They want you to die.”
“What? Seriously?” When she nodded, he paled. “Um…look, I’ve got some stuff going on with Copper at the moment, but killing me? That’s just crazy.”
“Intention does not always manifest in action; perhaps you are correct.” She looked past him into the forge, disinterested. “That is a place of great power. Do you feel it when you work there?”
He thought of the way to Exilium he’d found beneath the anvil and how the iron road had stretched away from it impossibly. “Yeah, I know it’s a special place.”
“There are stories of Lord Iron’s forges. Seven places of power, seven keys to his potential.”
“Oh.” He thought of the slab at the heart of the house, of the seven markers showing the other forges, and probably the other points that joined Exilium to Mundanus via those twisting iron and copper roads.
“Do you know where they are?”
“I have a fair idea.” He scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable with the way she stared at him. “So…this ‘old way’ you mentioned before, for the pure iron chains. Could you teach me?”
She nodded. “Yes. You’re strong and more attuned than you realise. Do you have a knife?”
“No. What for?”
She looked at him as if he were a stupid child. “To cut you. We’ll need your blood, Lord Iron. Purity always has a cost.”
24
Of all the times Tom could have chosen to whisk Cathy away, why did it have to be last night? Even now, after a restless night’s sleep, Will was still angry. Angry that Tom didn’t run it by him first, angry that Cathy had dropped everything to go and then decided to stay at the Tower, angry that she still wasn’t back.
He’d sworn when he received her note telling him she wouldn’t be home that night.
Will, Tom is going to exile Natasha. I’m devastated. He gave us a few hours together at least. Don’t wait up; I’m going to stay here. I’m exhausted. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.
C xx
Tom must have found out Natasha was helping Cathy with her feminist agenda. He understood why she wanted to stay, and she’d hardly be in the mood for his affections in the state she was in, but it still angered him. But as he lay there, his breakfast tray getting cold, he knew the real reason for the anger.
He’d just wanted to get it over and done with. This morning she was supposed to wake in his arms, their child forming within her. Lord Iris would be pleased. She would be safe. Dame Iris would be, too, satisfied that her plan had secured the family and removed the pressure on her as well as him.
“You will stay for lunch, of course,” she’d said to him after Lord Iris had released them all from Exilium. He’d been surprised that she asked, thinking that after so long apart she and her husband would only want to be with each other. But Sir Iris had things to do, as did she, and the most pressing issue for Eleanor was how to make sure Cathy was brought into line. Otherwise Lord Iris’s favour would go the same way as it had for her usurper, and that would never do.
She’d led him into one of the many receiving rooms in the wing of the Patroon’s house that Will had seen far too much of lately. “Now, this is what we’re going to do about Cathy,” she’d said, outlining how he was to take the potions that would influence Cathy’s behaviour, and also guarantee conception after their next coupling.
“That way you don’t have to worry about such silliness as making sure she has consumed them,” Dame Iris said with a smile. “You’ll have to put up with all the women you speak to fawning over you, but I imagine that isn’t a new experience for you, and hardly an unpleasant side effect to deal with.”
He couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d Charmed Cathy into sleeping with him already. It felt so low, so sordid. Was this any better?
“Why the scowl, William?”
“I don’t feel comfortable with this.”
“Oh, William, everyone uses Charms of attraction! Heavens, there would be no children in the entirety of the Buttercup family without them!”
“It just doesn’t seem…very sporting.” It sounded so feeble. At her raised eyebrow he lowered his eyes. “When I found out that a Rosa had made me love her, I felt like such a fool. I’m no better than her if I do that to Cathy.”
“Nonsense,” Dame Iris said. “The Rosa did it to you for her own gain, did she not? Well, that is why you were so wounded by it. You wouldn’t have chosen to act the way you did to benefit her when your goals were incompatible. It is the opposite situation with Cathy. You’re doing this to protect her. And she already loves you. It’s a world away from what was done to you.”
Will remained unconvinced. Would she have fallen in love with him without that first Charm? Was it really love? He couldn’t bear to think about it. “But Dame Iris, she says she doesn’t want to have a child.”
“Cathy is a dear girl, but she does have an unfortunate way of rushing into things she should consider more carefully and overthinking the things she need not. Take the asylum. She seemed to be making it all up as she went along. I doubt she considered the full ramifications of her actions when she really should have. Having a child requires no thought whatsoever, but for some reason she’s considered it far too much and simply tangled herself in a knot about it. All we are doing is freeing her from her own worst enemy. Herself.”
Will kept his eyes averted, knowing she had made up her mind.
“Just like you will with the jewel our patron made for her. I take it you have that in hand?”
“Yes, Dame Iris, the jewellery will be ready for me to collect first thing tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” She stood, smiling broadly. “Wait there whilst I collect what we need. The potions I have in mind are powerful enough to last a few days, just in case your other duties get in the way.”
And so you can watch me drink them before I leave, he’d thought, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to see it all done properly.
He’d left her house with two potions settling in his stomach and what felt like a rock in his chest. But in the carriage on the way home he realised the Dame was right. There was nothing else to be done. And he and Cathy had made love before, and she’d enjoyed it. The potions would simply make it harder for her overthinking to get in the way, and simply make sure that their lovemaking created the desired outcome. It wasn’t as if he was going to hurt her, or abuse her.
As for the choker and her previous insistence that she wanted to preserve the effect of Poppy’s magic, well, that was another example of her not knowing what was best for her. Besides, surely it was better for her to act in accordance with her true self, rather than something influenced by magic? When the hypocrisy of that stung, he shifted in his seat and returned to the thought that justified all of it: she would be safe.
When she left with Tom before he’d been able to lure her to bed, he’d paced, then decided to make better use of his time. He summoned Bennet and spoke at length with him about the Agency and the way it was run. If he had to take away something Cathy thought she wanted, the least he could do was give her something else in return. By the time Bennet had left, he had a plan that he knew would make Cathy melt, no matter how angry she’d been with him. The thought of it had enabled him to get to sleep as he waited for her to come home.
And now, the morning creeping into the sociable hours of the day, she was still not home. When he sent an enquiry after her to the Tower, he received a message from one of the pages that her mother had come and they’d left in a carriage together.
“Damn it, Cathy!” he’d shouted at the note, crushing it in his fist before tossing it into the fire. Half an hour later he received a message from her by Letterboxer.
Will, my mother needs me to help with arranging Elizabeth’s wedding. It has to be tomorrow. I won’t be home tonight, but I will come back
in the morning to get changed. Can you come? It will be at 11 a.m. Elizabeth is driving me insane.
C xx
At least that part of his plan was going well. Soon the contract between Nathaniel and Bertie’s daughter would be signed and both of their positions would be safer for it. He penned a quick note back.
My love,
Come back tonight if you can. I miss you. I’ll clear my diary for the wedding, then we can be together.
I love you,
Will x
He paused, added another x to match what she’d sent him, and sent it. He could put the day to good use. He would collect the choker—then he could at least give that to Cathy before the wedding, reducing the chance of her saying anything incendiary at such a public event. Then the rest of the day he’d work on the figures that emerged from his conversation with Bennet. Even though putting that choker on Cathy was the right thing to do, he still felt he had to give her something she wanted. Something that would make her smile. Something that would make him feel less monstrous.
• • •
Sam felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. His room was dark save for a shaft of light pouring in from the hallway.
“Mr Ferran. Wake up, sir.”
It was Ben, the head of his security team. “What’s going on?”
“Sir, there’s been an attack on the—”
Sam sat up, instantly awake. “Is Mrs M okay? Beatrice?”
Ben nodded. “Something strange happened. The cameras on the perimeter went down, that was the first sign that something was going on. John—one of the men patrolling the grounds—was knocked out and the door to the conservatory was broken into.”
“What?”
“But the intruders stopped and gave themselves up.”
“Who?”
“Three men, sir. They…” He swallowed and Sam noticed the sheen of sweat on his upper lip. “They came to kill you. They wouldn’t have got to you, sir, there’s motion sensors—”