by T. A. White
The duke struck her as the sort to get what he wanted. She had a feeling that despite his ties to the upper echelons of the city, he was dangerous given the right situation or when he wanted something badly enough.
She couldn’t justify going down this line of questioning any further. She’d gotten a peek at what motivated him. It wasn’t much different than what motivated most. He wanted more power, more wealth. His daughter was just the excuse. He probably would have funded this discovery even if she’d been able to bond with one of the family artifacts.
Roslyn stared off into the distance, as if she was trying to pretend that she was elsewhere.
“I hear my daughter thinks highly of you,” the duke said. “You will have to call on her someday soon before this is all over. I’m sure she would like to speak with another classmate about the possibilities that have been unearthed.”
Tate’s smile froze to an icy grimace. “I hadn’t realized you knew we attended class under Instructor Daiske.”
“I keep track of anyone my daughter comes in contact with. Our family is powerful. There are always those who seek to take advantage of our good fortune. It pays to nip such things in the bud before they can take root.”
Just the kind of thing every daughter wanted to hear. That her father kept a close watch on her every action. Tate couldn’t imagine living under such an oppressive man. Having every move tracked, and if someone wasn’t the sort that her father approved of having them removed.
For once Tate was glad that she had no family to call her own. If this was the sort of thing that awaited her once her memories returned, perhaps she was better off.
Tate didn’t know how else to respond so she just nodded.
The duke and his daughter departed.
Tate found a corner and stayed there. That conversation had destroyed her appetite to mingle. She just wanted to go home. That couldn’t happen until the men from the Black Order got here, which meant she was stuck until they arrived.
She had learned little over the past hour except that the duke wanted power, his daughter might have befriended Tate for the chance to manipulate her and that nobody had seen or heard anything related to the murder.
“You look like you had about as much luck as I did,” Dewdrop said, joining her against the wall.
Tate groaned. “Don’t get me started.”
“Was that the Duke of Spiritly I saw you talking to?”
Tate nodded.
“Learn anything?” The tone of Dewdrop’s voice made it clear that he expected the answer to be no.
“Not about the murder. Asked about his reasons behind funding the discovery.”
“Did he give you anything?”
“Not much. Fed me a story about how it was all for his daughter. So she could have a chance to bond with new, untainted artifacts.”
“You didn’t believe him,” Dewdrop said, studying her. He sounded surprised.
“Yes and no. I can’t explain it, but I think there’s more to the story.” Tate shook her head, deep in thought.
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s not what he said. It’s what he didn’t say.” Tate leaned forward. “How did he know he was financing an expedition that would uncover artifacts? Do most of these things turn up artifacts?”
Dewdrop shrugged. Tate sat back. That’s right. He had as little familiarity with these kinds of things as she did. Ryu might be a better person to ask or better yet one of the academics.
“It just seems like a pretty big leap to fund this discovery and then suddenly they uncover the find of a century,” Tate said.
“Unless he has a hand in funding most of the current expeditions,” Dewdrop said.
“It’d certainly give him first dibs on anything that is discovered,” Tate agreed.
“I talked to the servants.”
Tate lifted her eyebrows. Did he now?
He gave her a shy grin. “I figured they’d be more likely to talk to me seeing as I look like one of them. With the way you’re dressed tonight and the company you’ve been keeping, they might have been a little tongue tied if you started asking questions.”
Tate gave him a half smile, conceding his point. He was most probably right. She wasn’t dressed to blend. People tended to hold back less if they thought they could relate to you on some level.
“Find out anything?”
His face screwed up in regret. “Not much. Most of them kept to their assigned duties. The sweetheart of the man who reported the murder was the only one anywhere near there.”
“What’d she have to say?”
“Don’t know as we’ve yet to track her down.”
Tate sat up. Now that was interesting.
“She’s gone?”
He nodded. “Near as anyone can figure it. She’s not among the remaining staff. The majordomo did say there is a chance that she may have completed her tasks and signed out for the night.”
“But there’s a chance she could have witnessed what happened.”
“Or done the killing herself.”
“For what reason?”
He gave a careless shrug. “She could have been a plant. Joined the staff a few weeks before hand for just this purpose. It’s something that Lucius might have done.”
“Is she new?”
“I didn’t ask how long she’d been with the staff. Even if she’s been here awhile, that doesn’t clear her. Some of the Night Lords plant people in the houses of the Upper city years in advance and then activate them only when an opportunity presents itself. She might have just been part of a long-term agenda that got activated early.”
Tate made a sound to indicate she was thinking.
She didn’t want to assume the maid was innocent or guilty without some kind of proof. Until she could find the woman, they would need to investigate all possibilities.
“When is the Black Order going to get here?” Tate asked.
Dewdrop shrugged. “I thought they were already here.”
“What?”
“There were a couple of men that arrived a while ago to take a look at the body.”
Tate straightened and headed for the doors. When had that happened? How had she missed it?
“Where are you going?”
“To introduce myself. I’m supposed to be overseeing them.”
He caught up to her. “That’s going to be hard.”
She stopped and turned to glare down at him. “Why?”
He shrugged. “They’re already gone.”
Tate cursed. So much for sticking close to them.
She stepped outside the parlor and headed for the front door.
“Where are you going now?”
“Home.”
Chapter Nine
It smells like they have a forest in there, Night said, his barbed tail swishing back and forth.
“How do you know what a forest smells like? Aren’t all of your memories of the tunnels or the city?” Tate asked.
Some things are impossible to forget.
Night padded up the steps to a door painted a green usually found in the deepest forest under the shade of its canopy.
Tate followed.
Dewdrop had remained behind to see if he could work some of his former contacts and gain information about the missing maid. After their neighbor had said she’d look after the cubs, Night had agreed to tag along for the day’s adventure. Tate suspected it was mostly because her two friends had decided it was best that somebody keep an eye on her, being of the opinion, that if trouble was anywhere to be found then she would find it.
She chose to see it as a sign they cared rather than a lack of confidence. There was also the fact that they might have the smallest bit of a point.
Tate lifted the knocker and rapped it against the door several times. Then they waited.
“You hear anything inside?” Tate asked after a long moment.
One ear flicked at her.
“Well?” she said when he didn’t respond.
There was a gusty mental sigh. The door is thick. It muffles sound.
She frowned. “Is that a yes?”
It’s an ‘I don’t know.’
That wasn’t very helpful.
Tate gave Night a skeptical look, knowing very well just how attuned those pointy ears were to the slightest sound. He certainly seemed able to hear the faintest cry of distress from Willa or Pax when they were several rooms away.
His ears shot upright and an attentive look registered on his feline face.
Tate straightened and donned a smile just as the door was yanked open. An unfriendly man who only came up to Tate’s chest glared up at her. He was old, bent and gnarled by time. His hair fell in a shaggy mane down his neck, the color almost white, putting her in mind of one of the snow cats. He bared one fang at her, his amber eyes almost feral.
Tate’s smile stiffened and she fought the urge to take a step back. He reminded her of a predator. One that might give chase at any sign of weakness.
The man’s eyes dropped to Night and bugged almost comically. Night yawned, showing an impressive mouth of needle sharp teeth. He huffed afterwards and a small rumble escaped him.
The man’s hair moved, stiffening and growing like fur on an animal when faced with another predator.
Tate stepped forward, drawing the man’s feral gaze. “I’m here to see Tala. Is she in?”
Night gave another huff, this one sounding oddly like a laugh.
“Who wants to know?” The words came out in a rumble that stopped just short of a growl. It was the sort of sound Tate had only heard Ryu make once he was nearing the end of his patience.
A hand shot out of the darkness, rapping the man on the back of the head.
“That isn’t how we answer the door, Caric.” Gabriella stepped into view. Today she was wearing clothes similar to the first time Tate had seen her, only these were a little more refined. Comfortable but elegant. Her hair was bound in several braids that were tied back from her face into one tail down her back.
Tate was jealous of the effortlessness with which she pulled off the look. Dewdrop had lamented over Tate’s limited wardrobe for nearly an hour, before pulling out a pair of grey pants and a loose top in the color of deepest blue.
“Not my fault, Ayer. The beast was the one to challenge first.”
“He yawned,” Tate said in affront. Privately, she could see how he might have taken that as a challenge. Mostly because it had been, if a back handed one that made sense only in Night’s feline brain.
“I don’t care if he tried to mark his territory by sharpening his claws on the front door. When you answer this door, you are to be unflappable. Like a raindrop on a sunny summer day.”
Tate didn’t quite get the comparison, but she was glad that they weren’t going to attack because of one mistimed yawn.
Gabriella looked at the two of them and gave them a smile, baring many of her pointy teeth in the same manner as her friend. “Please. Come in. We’ve been waiting.”
That didn’t sound ominous at all.
Caric shook his head, leaving Tate to capture the door as he shuffled away muttering, “So many rules in this infernal cage.”
Gabriella waited until he was out of ear shot. “He’s not used to the city yet. It’s taking him a while to get into a routine with how things work here.”
“How do you guys normally answer a door?” Tate couldn’t help but ask.
Gabriella’s smile turned wicked. “With claws and teeth.”
“Ah.” Tate wasn’t sure how else to respond as Gabriella sauntered off down the hall.
She gave Night a look. “Maybe it’s best to keep your yawns on the inside until we’re out of this place.”
He gave a mmrph before padding after Gabriella. Tate was left to bring up the rear.
It gave her time to observe their surroundings. From the outside, the townhome appeared narrow but long. Inside, it looked much wider than she had assumed. At first, she thought they’d created the effect through an optical illusion. The human brain was surprisingly easy to fool. Something bugged her about that assumption, though. Her spatial sense just couldn’t reconcile the narrowness from outside and with the wide, airy space in which she currently stood.
She examined the space with a closer look, noting two doors on the same wall as the door she’d just entered from. So that’s how they did it. The house looked wider because it actually was. They’d taken the townhomes on either side and joined them, knocking down any walls so that everything was connected. It meant that instead of one entrance from the street, there were three.
The ceiling soared high above and there were plants on almost every surface. There were nooks and crannies for seating in every room they passed. Benches designed to welcome those who’d like to spend a lazy afternoon curled up on cushions reading. Ceilings made of glass let natural light into the rooms.
Tate’s ears caught the sound of water moments after Night made a purr of discovery and trotted into a room that led to an indoor grotto. A pool surrounded by lush vegetation meandered through the space. Stepping stones had been placed in a path across the small pond.
“Night, come back here,” Tate hissed as he leapt onto one of those stones and then another. She shot Gabriella a glance, anticipating some type of objection to their presence in the grotto. Gabriella looked back at her with a placid expression but made no move to prevent them from exploring.
Night stared down at his reflection, his ears tilted forward in curiosity. Tate hopped onto the stone next to him. Now she knew why he was so interested. Fish clad in every hue of the rainbow darted back and forth in the reeds.
Night bobbed up and down, one paw lifting as his eyes tracked the movement.
“Don’t even think about it,” Tate told him. “We barely got off with that yawn. I don’t want to have to defend you if you eat one of their pets.”
He wasn’t listening. His muscles coiled tighter.
“Night.” Her voice held a distinct thread of warning.
His paw darted out, missing the fish but splashing Tate.
She darted away, tripping but managing to save herself from the water. She turned back to him with narrowed eyes to find him sitting as innocently as possible, feet carefully placed and an expression of ‘who me?’ on his face.
“And I thought felines didn’t care for water,” Tate said.
His whiskers pointed forward. I’m not exactly a feline, am I?
“Could have fooled me,” Tate said under her breath.
A soft chuckle reached them. Night bounded off the stepping stones to join Tate on the patio next to the manmade pond.
Tala moved out of the trees, her feet whispering over the grass before stepping onto the cool tile of the patio.
With Tala revealing herself, Tate was suddenly able to make out several other shapes in the vegetation surrounding them. Tala’s guards. At least that was Tate’s hope.
“You could have warned me,” Tate told Night.
He didn’t respond. His tail flicking lazily.
He might not be all feline, but Tate was willing to bet that was the predominant species the creators based him off.
“Witness, you grace us with your presence.”
Tate sighed. There they go. Diplomacy and politics already. Her head hurt.
“Tate, if you please.” Tate mustered a smile, one that said I’m harmless so please answer my questions.
“Only if you will call me Tala.” The other woman’s smile was much more charming than Tate’s. Even if it was formed with a carnivore’s teeth.
Tate bowed her head, stuffing down any uneasiness the sight of so many sharp teeth might have caused her.
“That should be simple enough.”
“Will you walk with me?” Tala gestured to the indoor forest.
Tate eyed the trees and surrounding guards, aware that in there she might not see an attack coming.
“Ah, sure.”
She stepped forward, walking at Ta
la’s side. She glanced over her shoulder to see Night meandering in their wake. He was easily distracted, stopping to take deep breaths, dragging the scents over the roof of his mouth. He stuck his face in more than one bush, coming out with leaves and other things stuck to his fur.
“Your friend seems to enjoy our sanctuary,” Tala said.
Tate’s attention snapped back to the other woman. “It would seem so.”
Tate winced at that response. It was bland and generic. The type of thing an airy headed courtier might say. She didn’t know why Tala threw her for a loop, just that the other woman did. It made her want to be guarded yet well liked at the same time.
“He is welcome here any time he needs a respite from the city,” Tala said. She seemed to slip effortlessly through the trees and bushes, while Tate sounded like a herd of dragons crashing about. “I know Aurelia can weigh on the senses of beings such as us. It helps to know there is a place to rest, away from it all.”
Tate frowned and looked back at Night. Was he having trouble living in the city? She assumed his needs were being met, having figured that anything was better than the tunnels she’d found him in. Doubt crept in when he looked like he was having the time of his life exploring the scents and sensation in this place that even Tate could tell was special.
There was just something about it. Something she’d call magical if she was another type of person. A sense of peace that only the oldest forests in the deepest part of the wilds seemed to have. A well of calm and well-being that Tate didn’t even know was missing until she walked through this place.
“You should probably tell him that yourself. He makes his own decisions,” Tate told her. “I’m sure he will be happy for the invitation.”
Though he wouldn’t be able to take advantage until after the mediation was over. Or maybe he should visit. See if he could discover anything of use.
Tate would have to think on this.
They walked in silence for several moments. Night bounded in front of them. His run more of a gallop.
“Where did you find him, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Tate looked at Tala out of the corner of her eye, trying to sense any hidden hostilities. Some people, not all but some, thought Night was an aberration. A failed creation—one not worthy of the Saviors’ attention—a thing that should be put down. All Tate saw was curiosity and maybe a little awe.