Concealed Special Edition

by Christina Bauer

  A good sign.

  Surely, my next spell would show me a new vision of Ada.

  I quickly prepared my room, jamming rags into all the appropriate spots. My focus should have been locked on my upcoming incantation, but other memories kept interrupting.

  All right, it was one memory. Rowan’s kiss.

  I gently brushed my fingertips over my lips. Heat bloomed through my chest as I recalled how rough our kiss became. Closing my eyes, I could feel the way his firm hands pressed against the small of my back, how the hard planes of his chest pressed into mine, and the way our mouths devoured each other.

  What a kiss.

  It wasn’t my first, but it was certainly my best. When I was sixteen, I’d kissed one of the local boys behind the barn for a minute or so. I only did it to prove that yes, a Necromancer could kiss someone without turning them into a toad. I suppose if I’d thought about it, I would have selected someone other than the fishmonger’s son. It wasn’t the most aromatic introduction to men.

  Then I was a teenager when I met Tristan. He was handsome and charming, yet I never saw him as more than a brother.

  I ran my tongue over my lower lip. From the moment I first saw Rowan, I’d wanted to touch him. Some part of me always wondered what his kisses would be like. Now that I knew the answer, I only wanted him all the more. His husky voice echoed through my thoughts.

  “You’re mine. Don’t fight it.”

  I lay back on my bed. The lumpy mattress pressed into my spine, and I wished it was Rowan’s body behind me instead. What if we had done more than kiss? I knew the mechanics of how sex worked, of course. Until Rowan, I’d never given the matter much thought. After all, Necromancers were trained against emotions. Lust was essentially forbidden. I brushed my hand over my breast. What would Rowan’s touch feel like here?

  I sat bolt upright. Stop this nonsense. Focus on finding Ada.

  Rising, I shook all thoughts of Rowan from my mind. I had work to do, and that didn’t involve contemplating kisses. Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mage awareness, searching for magick nearby. Instantly, power careened through my body, ready to be released as a spell. I focused energy into my left hand, making my bones glow bright blue. After that, I whispered the words to my spell and set my power free.

  An azure-colored mist rolled out across the floor. The thick blue haze quickly wrapped around me, the tendrils of smoke turning thick as a blanket. Once the haze disappeared, my spell was complete. I expected to be standing in a dungeon hallway, just as I always had before.

  Instead, I was brought into a large stone chamber lit by torches. Rusted chains hung along the walls. The musty scent of dust filled the air. A long wooden table sat against the opposite wall. Something or someone lay on the tabletop. It was hard to see for certain since a small group of Fantomes surrounded it.

  What was on that table? The question pulled at my thoughts. I shifted about, anxious for a better look. The Fantomes always blocked my view though. All I could see was their black robes. Every so often, one of them would shift their arms, making their loose garments sway with the movement.

  I frowned. Why would my spell have brought me here? My interest kept being drawn to the tabletop. I took a step forward, and all the mages paused. Moving in unison, they all shifted to stare in my direction. Their hoods were drawn low over their faces. I couldn’t tell if they actually saw me or just sensed magick in the room.

  I froze midstep, barely able to breathe. My heart hammered against my rib cage.

  Please don’t let them see me.

  The seconds passed slowly. A murmur echoed through the air. I couldn’t tell all that was said, but I heard the words “trick of the mind.” At last, the mages all turned back to face whatever was on the tabletop. They couldn’t see me. I heaved out a relieved breath.

  Thank the Sire.

  I stood on tiptoe, desperate for a better view of whatever the mages were doing. Part of me wanted to sprint across the room. However, the Fantomes had almost detected me when I’d been standing still. Moving closer—or even moving too much at all—was certain to expose my presence. Besides, this spell was getting trickier to cast by the second. It was taking almost all my focus to simply remain in this room.

  A low moan echoed through the air. A jolt of fear moved down my spine. I’d have known that voice anywhere. It had been haunting me for weeks.

  Ada.

  The Fantomes erupted into a flurry of movement. Something sharp and shiny flashed in one of their hands. Was it a knife? Ada screamed in pain. The sound tore through my soul. Another mage raised his arm. His long pale fingertips dripped with blood.

  Ada’s blood.

  Suddenly, my concentration fell apart. Magick poured out of my body like water through a sieve.

  No, no, no!

  I wanted to stay and see Ada. I tried to refocus my mind, but there was nothing I could do. The next thing I knew, I had returned to my room in the tavern. Alarm rushed through my limbs. I paced the floor.

  Focus, Elea.

  There was nothing more to be done now. Worrying wouldn’t help me find Ada and the others. Searching the Havilland mansion would. There was a lot of work to complete before tomorrow. After taking in a few calming breaths, I began casting the protection spells I would need for the visit to the Havilland mansion. the same thoughts kept circling my mind like they were on a repeater spell.

  Ada might be there.

  In just a matter of hours, I might see her.

  Whatever it took, no matter what the cost, I knew one thing.

  I would find that child or die trying.

  8

  It was early morning when I stepped up to Amelia’s front gate. Clothilde was already waiting for me in the courtyard beyond. Once again, her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. As I approached, her mouth thinned. Clearly, she was not happy to see me. “You’re here to prepare for a visit to the Havilland estate, I suppose.”

  “I am.”

  She slowly swung the gate open, glaring at me the entire while. “I don’t like you endangering my Lady.”

  I matched her glare with one of my own. “I don’t like you questioning her decisions.”

  She slammed the gate shut with extra force. “I’ll show you to her rooms.” Without another word, she marched up to the front door of the so-called cottage. I followed.

  Clothilde led me through the familiar labyrinth of furniture covered in dusty sheets. What was unfamiliar was the fact that, unlike yesterday, there were servants everywhere. Clothilde paused beside a coat of arms that had been painted onto one of the walls. It showed the tall sword wreathed in roses. Clothilde nodded toward the image. “Lady Amelia hails from the House of Theodora.” Her voice took on a reverent tone. “Theodora snuck past the gateway to the Eternal Lands by devising an ingenious disguise. My Lady has such gifts too.”

  Everyone knew the story of Theodora. She was a poor girl without any magick or way to eat. After creating some kind of camouflage, she snuck through a gateway to the Eternal Lands and entreated the Sire of Souls and the Lady of Creation for help. She won their trust and a powerful sword. That was when the Royals were truly created, along with their love of learning and innovation.

  I tried to feign interest and failed. “Is there a reason you’re showing me this?”

  “Lady Amelia comes from highborn family. She’s the Vicomte’s child, to boot.” Clothilde folded her thin arms over her bony chest. “If you lead her into trouble, then you’ll make serious enemies. I’m warning you.”

  “Warning received.” I should chide her for such forward talk, but I couldn’t find it in me. Clothilde was protective of her lady. “Now, her rooms?”

  Clothilde grumbled something under her breath and led me deeper into the mansion. At last, we reached Amelia’s chamber. The place was painted pink with tall windows and long silk curtains. Amelia sat before a small table covered with all sorts of brushes, puffs, and multicolored pastes. It reminded me of her workbench in t
he basement laboratory, only this time, the girl was engineering her own face instead of a watch’s.

  In fact, Amelia looked so perfect I thought she could be one of the portraits that must be hanging in the Havilland gallery. Her face appeared porcelain-smooth with big blue eyes and pursed pink lips. Her ginger hair hung in neat ringlets past her shoulders. Already, Amelia’s pink gown was laced up tightly, making the skirt flounce out even more broadly at her waist. I pulled on the neckline of my own simple shift. Suddenly, I felt anxious about getting ready for today. I couldn’t hope to compete with Amelia’s beauty.

  “You’re early,” said Amelia. “And you look ill.”

  “I had bad dreams last night.” The vision of Ada screaming wouldn’t leave my mind. I tried for hours to cast the spell again. For whatever reason, I couldn’t get the incantation to work. That happened sometimes, especially when the previous casting had drained me of too much energy. I might have better luck tonight.

  “What’s wrong?” Her pretty face crumpled with worry.

  “It’s nothing worth retelling,” I said.

  At those words, Amelia seemed ready to cry, and I hadn’t yet told her about Ada’s torture. In any case, what help would that news afford? The best thing we could do now was focus on getting ready for the Havilland visit. “Why don’t we prepare ourselves?”

  “You have arrived as quite the mess. If we’re to arrive on time for luncheon, then we must rush.”

  “Whatever you think is best.”

  “In that case, you can start by changing.” She gestured to a massive gown of pale green. How exactly would I lever myself into that contraption?

  Remember, the faster you’re strapped into one of those monstrosities, the quicker you can get answers about Ada and the other Necromancers.

  When I spoke again, I kept my face a mask of politeness. “Thank you, Amelia.”

  A crowd of servants suddenly descended into the room. I was scrubbed, perfumed, oiled, coiled, and loaded into the fancy green gown. I knew it was the latest fashion, but still. I felt as if I were masquerading as an artichoke.

  Finally, we were ready to step out of the mansion and into the carriage that would take us to the Havilland estate. It took two men in formal jackets to load us into our wagon, which was a boxy affair with windows on either side. The men needed even more time to strap on all the gifts we were bringing along. All these delays were starting to wear on my nerves.

  Plus, there was no sign of Philippe.

  Amelia shot me a nervous glance. “We won’t have formal guards to accompany us.” Her cheeks reddened. “This was all I could afford. I figured you most needed help with preparing your ensemble.”

  “Quite right. Besides, if thieves do attack on the road, I’m rather an expert at getting rid of them.” I sighed. Robbers were easy to dispose of. Fantomes though? They were a different matter entirely. Once we crossed onto the Havilland estate, I wouldn’t be able to cast anything. Not without exposing myself, in any case.

  Damn those Fantomes.

  “Bother that brother of mine. I refuse to be late.” Amelia slammed her palm on the carriage door. “Driver, let’s not tarry.”

  Our wagon lurched forward. We were on our way. We hadn’t gone far when Philippe rode into view. He pulled up alongside us on his black stallion. I had to admit he looked rather dapper with his golden hair and roguish smile. “Hello, ladies.”

  Amelia drummed her fingers on the wooden windowsill of the boxy carriage. “You’re late, Philippe.”

  “No, you’re perpetually early.” He flashed me a white-toothed smile. “Isn’t she, Elea?”

  Amelia raised her gloved hand. “Don’t call her Elea. For the purposes of this visit, her name is Fleur.” She turned to face me. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Fleur. We have far more important topics to discuss.”

  I leaned back in the carriage and eyed Amelia. She really was a marvel. For a girl who’d spent years hiding out in a mansion, she embraced her role as spy with gusto. She’d planned every last detail of this trip, from recruiting a small army of servants overnight to ensuring ribbons were woven into the horses’ manes. I folded my hands neatly at my waist and gave her my full attention. “Whatever you wish to review, I’m ready and waiting.”

  “Now that we’re all here…” Amelia glared over at Philippe. “We must discuss what to say to the Marchioness.”

  “Don’t you include the Marquis as well?” I asked.

  “Why bother?” Philippe rolled his eyes. “The Marchioness runs the place.”

  “Tell Fleur how you know that.”

  “No.” Philippe winked. He really was a charming rogue.

  “Oh yes, you will. This is key information.” Amelia wagged her finger at her brother. “Tell, tell.”

  Philippe sighed dramatically. “No, I’ll let my sister share that detail.”

  “Fine.” Amelia rolled her eyes. “Philippe and the Marchioness have been lovers for months now. Secretly, of course.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh.” I’d known Philippe was a scoundrel, but I’d no idea he went with married women. I tried not to look like a country bumpkin who was made speechless by such antics. Not sure I succeeded. “Oh. I suppose…”

  “Yes?” Philippe pulled up right beside my window and leaned in closer. He was enjoying my discomfort far too much.

  “I suppose you know her well, then.”

  He pursed his full lips. “In certain ways.”

  Now Philippe was getting on my nerves. I could see why Amelia found it a challenge to get him onto serious topics. “What is she like?”

  “She’ll play the courtier until she’s ready to trade. Everything with her has a price. After that point, you might as well be bartering pigs at market.”

  I stifled the urge to grumble. “Then remind me, why am I playing the courtier? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply get right to the trading? Simply ask the question. What do you want in exchange for allowing us to view the gallery?”

  Philippe’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “Please. The Royals adore their pomp and frippery. You’ll get nowhere if you go right to bargaining. In fact, I had to stop by on formal visits for weeks before she let me into her bed. And then, when I got there—”

  “That’s quite enough, brother dear.” Amelia made shoo fingers at him. “I’d rather not be sick on my gown.” She turned to me. “Have you any other questions?”

  I could only smile. She really did fuss over me. After a lifetime of being alone, it was nice to have someone my age who cared about my well-being. “I’m fine.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And your preparations?” The way she said that word, it was clear she meant magick.

  I counted off my spells on my fingertips. “I spoke a dozen incantations since last night. I’ve hidden my power well, I think. As for the rest…” I gestured to the skirts of my gown. “I should say you made some magick of your own. I scarcely recognize myself.” Which was true. I’d never worn face paint before, let alone curled my hair. I looked like an entirely different person.

  “You forgot all the work we did yesterday on your history, Fleur.” Amelia tried to look stern, but there was no hiding the small smile rounding her mouth. “How are we related?”

  Philippe rode up closer to the carriage again. “I need to remember this too.” Amazing how he could keep perfect pace with us while moving. The man must flirt with women through carriage windows all the time.

  I recited our story by heart. “We have the same father and different mothers. Your mum was of noble blood; mine wasn’t. We discovered our shared father when he approached both of us, looking for money.” That last part of the story was true. Amelia’s father was a con man and gambler. To pay off a debt, he tried to kidnap her from the orphanage and sell her to a brothel. The nuns took him down with a kill spell. I’d say that was harsh, but if he’d tried something like that at my old Cloister, the Sisters would have tortured him for a week first. You don’t want to mess with Necromancer nuns.
r />   “Excellent.” Amelia bobbed a little on her seat, she was so happy. “Now, I’m also wondering about the Marchioness—”

  “Look,” I said solemnly. “You’ve recited the minutiae of the Havilland family to me by the hour. If I don’t remember it now, I never will.” I gestured toward the window. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

  Amelia’s eyes got wide with fear. “You’re right.”

  “We’ll do swimmingly. No one could have done a better job preparing me. Veronique would be proud.”

  Amelia exhaled slowly. “Thank you, Elea. I mean, Fleur. I needed that.”

  “You’re most welcome.” I leaned out the window and waved to Philippe. “How much longer now?”

  “Not far, my lovely Fleur.”

  I leaned back into the carriage and practiced looking serene. In my heart, I felt anything but. Tomorrow night, the time would run out on Amelia’s watch. My friends would die, and the Vicomte would rise while wielding the power of a thousand Necromancers.

  I gripped my hands together and twisted my fingers.

  We simply had to find Ada and the others. Today.

  It wasn’t long in terms of time. Even so, it felt like years passed before we approached the Havilland estate. A tall iron fence surrounded what looked to be nothing but green and rolling hills. There was no view of the mansion yet, only a small guardhouse that stood by the gate. As we approached, a man in golden livery stepped out to greet us. His brown wig sat slightly askew atop his head. It was an effort not to frown.

  What? A wig?

  I stared at the thing for an overlong time. I’d heard that some Royals embraced odd fashions. The flouncy gown I now wore was proof of that. And to their minds, such dress was progressive, something akin to their love of machines and learning. Yet to me? Things like wigs were simply not necessary. I shook my head. Give me a simple frock and a Necromancer spell any day.

  “Good afternoon. What’s your business here?”

  “Lady Amelia and guests are here to see the Marchioness and Marquis,” said Philippe. “We’re expected.”