The Second Talisman: (Book II of the Elementals Series)

by Marisol Logan

  “We do not need to talk about that,” Veria interrupted.

  Tanisca pulled the bread out of the oven and set it on the work table to cool. Veria sat down on the floor and pulled Irea into her lap. After a few moments, Tanisca ripped the bread into three large chunks and passed them out. Having not eaten much over the last few days, the warm bread was the most appetizing food Veria had seen or smelled in as long as she could remember. Except for rosa...

  “What about rosa?” Veria asked her mother with a mouth full of bread.

  “What about it?” Tanisca responded with disgust.

  “Will she eat it?”

  “How should I know, dear? I never make it, and I do not think the cook knows how.”

  “The spices—it has to be good for illness. It's better than eating bread all the time,” Veria said. “She needs more than bread. This bread is delightful, though, I am impressed,” she added, with a nod to her mother. “Can you ask Andon for the recipe?”

  “Ha! I will not be cooking it, so absolutely not,” Tanisca said as she picked at her own piece of bread. “I have no room in my head for Esperan recipes, nor recipes at all, for that matter. Ask him yourself.”

  “I doubt he would speak to me. I am fairly certain he loathes me, mother.”

  “If he hates you so much, why did he invite us to his Lordship reception?” Tanisca questioned.

  “It was probably just for you, and that is only because Willis probably planned the entire thing,” Veria tried to rationalize.

  Tanisca disappeared from the room for a moment, and Irea squirmed uncomfortably in Veria's lap. She returned quickly with a thick card in her hand, which she tossed down on the floor near Veria. Irea reached for it, but Veria got to it first.

  “Your name is first,” Tanisca stated plainly.

  Surveying the invitation carefully, Veria's heart fluttered a bit when she saw his name written out in perfect flowing script: Lords Willis and Andon Villicrey of the Guyler Estate cordially invite you, Lady Veria Laurelgate and Madame Tanisca Pyer-Laurelgate of the Longberme Estate, to the official announcement to title by the King of Londess, and following ceremony...

  The event was in three days. Veria swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, and suddenly felt hot and clammy. Did she really have to go to this? To see him, and whomever else was invited? Lord Rames and his pregnant bride? Willis, who would undoubtedly want to talk about her something regarding her skills—she could not lie to him either or he would know exactly the turns her training had taken of recent.

  “I think you should wear that,” Tanisca teased, interrupting her internal dialogue.

  “Very funny, mother.”

  -XIV-

  The Guyler Estate, the previous inhabitants of which had all been killed in an accident during a leisure trip abroad, leaving no family, was much larger than Veria had expected. She realized she had never visited the Estate as a child, even though it was one of the closer Estates to Longberme. The actual manor itself looked to be about twice the size of Longberme, and the property was vast, and uninterrupted by forest. Arriving at the touch of sunset, Veria had a moment of appreciation for the wide, seemingly unending swath of emerald plains, dotted with grapevines and dormant flora bushes, but no sign of life beyond the house except for a few birds cutting through the lavender sky in perfected formations.

  Once inside, she had less appreciation for the opulent and excessive architecture and décor on the interior than she did the peace and solitude of the outside. She made a mental note to herself to make her way to the garden at her first opportunity, which would likely be after dinner.

  Sitting with her mother on one side of her and a Lord Pasrect on the other, who did not speak to her often except to mention his daughters and how he wished they could have made the trip, Veria ate very little. The food was rich, and she was too nervous, scanning the table in apprehension for anyone she knew. No Lord Rames or Lady Ambra, which made her fear for the latter's health briefly. Willis and Andon flanked the end of the table with the King at the head position. Other than that, just vaguely familiar faces that she had grown up with, but nobody she was all that friendly with.

  After dinner, the entire party made their way to the ballroom—the Longberme Estate had no ballroom, and for that she was incredibly thankful—for the official announcement to title. She sneaked out the terrace doors and into the gardens, where she took deep breaths of the crisp evening air, and tried to calm her nerves and muster the level of confidence in social interaction that she had in her elemental skills. After some time, applause erupted from the ballroom behind her, she assumed from the announcement by the King that Willis and Andon were now officially Lords of the Regalship.

  Of course they could not have been when she first met Andon. Of course! That would have made her life too easy, too simple. They could not have met at a ball right there in that ridiculously large ballroom and fallen instantly in love and been married when she was the appropriate marrying age, with no objection from her mother or his father. No, that is not how Veria's life worked. Everything was the hard way, the wrong way, the painful way. A struggle. A lump formed in her throat, but not a nervous one—one of sadness and self-pity.

  Things with Strelzar were easy, which was probably a major factor in why she did not want to leave. Now she was back to her life that, while privileged, was a constant battle and made her feel inadequate. She was on the verge of tears when a familiar voice came from the terrace doors.

  “I am pleased you came, Lady Veria,” Willis said behind her, and several members of the party filtered out onto the terrace to enjoy the night air, destroying her sanctuary. Willis came closer to her and took her hands. “I take it your training is going well? I visited Daloes a few days ago and he said you had resumed formal training.”

  “Superbly,” Veria smiled. No need to lie—it was going better than she ever could have imagined. What Daloes was referencing, she could only imagine, was her training with Strelzar, which meant he had seen this path for her...it was why he could no longer be her Master after she had gone to Plazic Peak. She had surpassed both of their tutelage. But why did he not want her to go, knowing it would lead to this level of power...?

  “I am happy for you, then!” Willis beamed, interrupting her thoughts. “Maybe someday you shall join the ranks of diplomacy? We can always use some talented help in the peace-keeping world.”

  “I think my skill set is better utilized in research,” Veria said. “But I will keep it in mind.”

  “Your father loved research. I am not surprised you are drawn to it,” he said, and Veria suppressed a wince at the mention of her father's research, which had mostly involved tampering with her memories when she was a small child. “Andon will be glad to see you as well,” he added. It was a lie, and Veria's stomach lurched at the same time the lie snapped around her like sparks. She gave no outward clues that she knew Willis was lying. He was only trying to be polite.

  “Well, then I ought to go congratulate him on this momentous occasion,” Veria said, as innocently and cordially as she could muster. “And congratulations to you, as well, Lord Willis.” She curtsied, and he waved it off.

  “No, no,” he said, nonchalantly. “This is just a technicality. I have lived most of my life—no, no, this is not momentous for me. This night is about Andon. But, thank you. You are a very thoughtful woman, Veria. I...I know things have not been easy. Sometimes I wonder...”

  He trailed off and Veria shook her head. “No need to go down that path, Willis,” she said and she squeezed his hands. “Not tonight. Instead, I think you are the only man here with whom I would like to share a dance.”

  “You flatter an old man, Lady Veria,” Willis chuckled.

  “I have flattered older men than yourself, Lord Villicrey,” she grinned, Strelzar's perfect, impossible face flashing across her mind. “Besides, you are the only man I can keep up with! I am a terrible dancer.”

  “Then we might make terrific partners.”

&
nbsp; He escorted her inside, and the music filled her with a refreshing energy. Willis clumsily whirled her around, and they began laughing so much at their awful attempts at graceful terpsichore that she had completely forgotten all her worries. After a few songs, both of them were short of breath and doubled over from giggles.

  “You do not lie, Lady Veria,” Willis chuckled as he walked her to a table filled with drinks and desserts and handed her a bubbly, “you are a terrible dancer.”

  “But it makes it much more exciting when you have no idea where your feet will go next, does it not?” she joked, and they both laughed heartily and toasted their drinks. As she took a quenching swig, she saw Andon, gliding so effortlessly across the dance floor that it looked as thought he were flying instead of stepping.

  Of course Andon was a perfect dancer, she thought in resentment.

  She watched him with narrowed eyes as he spun his partner with ease, his dark hair pulled back away from his face, not a speck of stubble on his jaw, and definitely the cleanest she had ever seen him before. He was almost unrecognizable, if she were being honest. She always pictured him in her mind with his hair falling in his rough, weathered face, his shirt unbuttoned a bit and the dirt and sweat of outdoor work tracing the smooth, sunned skin of his neck, and chest, and arms. There was hardly a sign of that Andon, other than his deep, keen eyes and warm smile, all of which was focused on his dance partner at the moment.

  Veria surveyed the woman, trying hard to suppress any envy that threatened to arise while she did. She was thin and quite a bit shorter than Andon, and her dress had a large yellow ribbon that seemed to cinch her waist away to nothing. Her hair was a mousy brown that had been coaxed into a perfect cascade of curls, and styled away from her face. Large blue eyes gazed innocently at Andon's face, and her small petal-pink lips were ribboned into a sugary smile that did not falter or fade the entire time Veria watched her.

  The lively number slowed to a stop and the musicians did not immediately start another song, as they typically did. Instead, Willis, who had left Veria's side without her noticing, stood near the musicians at the end of the ballroom floor and prepared to make an announcement.

  He held his crystal glass of bubbly above him and when the ballroom had sufficiently hushed, he spoke: “This night has filled my heart with joy. Seeing so many of my longtime friends—” he gestured specifically to Veria and she shifted uncomfortably— “here in this wonderful Estate, to share in a significant event in my son's life.

  “As many of you may know,” he continued, his voice strained by emotion, “Andon and I did not get to spend much of his childhood together.” Veria looked at Andon, whose lips were tight, and jaw clinched, but as if he realized people might look at him, he suddenly relaxed and managed a polite smile. “Nothing I can do will ever make up for that, but getting to see him mature into this man, whom you all witnessed become a Lord of the Regalship earlier tonight, has filled me with a level of pride I can hardly contain.

  “Now, this night is special in more ways than one!” Willis exclaimed, with a huge smile. “Not only has my son been conferred with the respect and honor of a Lordship, but I am wonderfully pleased to announce that he has also been accepted in his proposal to Lady Emmandia.”

  The guests erupted into crackling applause and approval, and Veria felt the envy she had been successfully oppressing boil up inside of her like the magma from the chamber. First drink still in one hand, she grabbed another glass of bubbly from the table and gulped it down in a matter of seconds, replacing the empty glass before anyone noticed her.

  Her? Who was she? She gets an easy life, a perfect life—she looked just the right age that her father, who was undoubtedly alive and doting and not involved in political scandal, arranged a marriage with a newly instated, incredibly handsome, and now unimaginably wealthy young Lord. She was pretty, but looked like a child, Veria thought, and like not one thought occupied her curly brown mophead.

  The happy couple shared a peck, and the musicians began a lively dance number, and they were off again, twirling across the floor like leaves in the wind.

  As she watched them spin across the floor, her head spun with questions and doubt. Why did he leave? Why did Veria tell him they could not be together? Why did he not keep trying—was she not worth it? Did he go right to another woman, or did he at least mourn her rejection for sometime? Had he already been planning this engagement when she had called on him to help with Rames...when he had said they should not see each other again...

  Her fists clenched, and she felt that awful lump in her throat again. He was an idiot, she just had to remind herself. Any man who did not fall to her feet was an idiot! And she did not desire the company of fools....so why did it matter to her that he was moving on? Why?

  That could be her in his arms—and as if he had heard Veria yell the thought across the room, Andon's head snapped directly to her, and her heart jumped in her chest. He narrowed his eyes, then turned back to Emmandia.

  She could do something about it if she really wanted to, she thought. She had no shortage of ideas of how she could take power over the situation. Control over acting on those ideas was proving to be the difficult task. Send flames shooting at the sweet little mouse and then set fire to the entire ballroom? Easy. Manipulate a few of the larger gentlemen into beating Andon down and kidnapping the fiance? A little more complicated, but manageable, nonetheless. Obviously, the easiest would be to drive Andon mad with desire for her. Veria started to imagine the scenario: he would suddenly let go of that little Lady Emmandia, and walk away from her without a word, while she called after him, but he would not acknowledge her. He would lock eyes with Veria and stalk her down through the crowd of guests, like a beast hunting prey through the forest. And with everyone watching, he would grab her body in his hands and—

  He was staring at her again. This time, he locked eyes with her and did not take them away as he led his partner around the floor and twisted and turned. The dark eyes were still narrowed and glaring, but also frenzied and intense. Veria looked away, with as much nonchalance as she could, and casually took a sip of her drink. But she knew, she could feel, his glare still burned into her.

  With a sickening flip of her stomach, Veria realized her bracelet was radiating warmth all along her arm. She had been focusing the desire, the lust, her little daydream fantasy on him without even meaning to do so. Panicking, she set her drink down and whipped the cuff off of her wrist and threw it on the drink table—hoping that would stop the desire she had planted in him.

  The song stopped and she turned back around to survey the dance area. Andon and Emmandia approached her, Andon with determination and Emmandia allowing herself to be dragged by him with a dutiful smile on her face. Veria prepared herself for whatever mess she had created with a deep breath and a cool, indifferent facade.

  “Lady Veria,” Andon said as the pair finally stopped next to her near the table, “I am happy you could be here.”

  Liar, just like his father, Veria thought. She grinned and curtsied deeply. “Lord Andon.”

  “No, stop that, please,” he objected, and grabbed her elbow to pull her back up.

  “Andon, she is supposed to—” Emmandia tried to interject, but it was too timid and quiet, and Andon continued speaking right over her.

  “You never asked me to bow for you when I was in the service of your household, and I would never dream of allowing you to carry on in such a demeaning fashion,” he explained. Veria nodded and smiled, and Emmandia looked bewildered. “Veria, this is Lady Emmandia Haleshore, and as you might have heard just a moment ago, we are engaged. Her family is from the East, near the peak region. Are you familiar with the area?”

  “Quite,” Veria answered with a salacious smirk.

  “Interesting,” Emmandia practically squeaked, “most people are not.”

  “Well, dear, Veria must have done a lot of traveling with her studies, like myself,” he said, speaking to her in a paternal tone.

&nbs
p; “Pardon me, darling, but I thought Lady Veria was the woman with the child? The one you used to work for, correct?” Emmandia asked. Andon's face sharpened and his cheeks reddened.

  Veria took internal delight at the social misstep. After letting Andon stare in embarrassment at his bride-to-be for a few uncomfortable moments, Veria took the high ground. “You are correct, Lady Emmandia. I do have a child. A daughter.”

  “I do not understand how you have had time to travel and study with a small child—”

  “Emmandia!” Andon hissed, and she took a small step back.

  “Andon, it is fine,” Veria purred, still reveling in the fact that he had managed to find a girl who was more socially clumsy than herself. “I have a simple explanation, Emmandia.”

  “What is that?” she asked timidly.

  “I do what I want to do,” Veria answered with a boastful smile, “and not just what others expect of me.”

  “Ah, the arrogance,” Andon chimed. “I thought it might be gone after I saw you last, but, I was wrong.”

  “I am afraid, old friend,” Veria purred, “that it is worse than ever.”

  “Never willing to take responsibility,” he spat, inching in closer and staring her down.

  “No, just never willing to follow orders,” Veria retorted friskily, matching his stare and angling her head towards his.

  “You know not everyone gets to live that way,” he snarled, stepping in even closer, his eyes boring into her and scanning her entire body.

  “Oh, I can see that, quite plainly,” she answered in mock pity, cocking her head at him.

  Just when Veria thought he was about to explode, Willis came up behind Emmandia, who had watched the entire altercation with a mixture of shock and confusion, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Excuse the interruption, but I thought I might steal a dance with my future daughter,” Willis smiled.

  “Of course,” Emmandia agreed, quietly, and she was soon whisked away.