Arcana

by Jessica Leake

  Lord Blackburn helps us into our carriage when it’s pulled ’round, and when it’s my turn, he meets my gaze and kisses the back of my hand. My eyes lock on his, and I am acutely aware of one thing: my skin has erupted in goosebumps.

  I stare up at the lace canopy of my bed. Lord Thornewood’s warnings resound in my mind despite my best efforts to ignore them. My body’s reaction to Lord Blackburn suggests there is something about him that encourages caution, though he has been nothing but kind.

  A soft glow catches my eye, and I turn toward my mother’s journal. I clutch the little book to my chest briefly and whisper a thank-you to my mother. Surely her words will bring me comfort. The book falls open and words scrawl across the page as if my mother wrote them in great anxiety.

  My dearest Katherine,

  By now you must be firmly ensconced in London society. Forgive me, but I ask you to indulge a mother’s gentle reminders. Your grandmother will no doubt be rushing you from ball to ball, even so, you cannot forget our reliance on the sun’s energy. You must make time for your sister and yourself to be outside of the confines of London town. With the potential threat from the Order of the Eternal Sun, you cannot afford to be in a weakened state.

  With sufficient power, you will be able to protect yourself. I only wish I could be there to guide you, as I know you’ve never learned defensive arcana. As Sylvani, we are gifted with instinctual power, power that will come to our aid when we most need it. However, I fear you will be caught unawares at a time when the sun’s energy cannot help you.

  Be vigilant, my daughter. And do not despair; you are more powerful than you know.

  All my love,

  Mama

  I close the little book. My hand shakes as I place it gently back on the side table. Tingles of unease race up and down my spine. Two warnings in one night cannot be coincidence.

  I shake my head as a deep disappointment fills me. Lord Blackburn has been so charismatic and kind, even appearing frail at times. Is it a charade on his part? But no, surely he does not know the truth about me. I have done nothing to draw attention to myself. Then again, to ignore both my own apprehension and Mama’s warning would be folly.

  I must waste no more time in uncovering Lord Blackburn’s intentions.

  TWELVE

  AS soon as our carriage arrives at Lord Blackburn’s estate, my initial doubts of his debt problems seem justified. The grounds are elegant and well-tended; the house itself is much larger than my father’s—which has six bedrooms—and the stables look as though they can hold at least fifteen horses.

  “His lordship has requested all guests join him at the stables,” the footman says, his tone bland.

  “Thank you,” Grandmama says. Her eyes are busy taking in the grounds, no doubt calculating their value. “Will you show us the way?”

  He does as he’s asked, though he looks rather put-out about it. Probably because it isn’t hard to see how to get there.

  One of the horses snorts as we approach, and I find we are the last to arrive. Three small pavilions have been set up under the shade of an enormous old oak tree. The pavilions’ soft chiffon fabric flutters softly in the breeze, providing additional protection from the sun. Card tables have been set up under each one, and I see many of the society matrons in attendance here are already playing a game of bridge.

  I stifle a groan when I notice Eliza, strolling arm-in-arm with Amelia. No doubt their casual promenade is to showcase themselves to the best advantage. Aside from Lord Blackburn, there are two other gentlemen in attendance whom I’ve never met.

  Soft talk from the ladies drifts back to us on the breeze while Lord Blackburn gestures animatedly toward the horses. Five Thoroughbreds are lined up, a groom at each of their heads. Two bays, two chestnuts, and a gray.

  Lord Blackburn and Penelope turn to me with welcoming smiles, but it’s barely enough to overcome Eliza’s venomous glare. I widen my eyes at her innocently, and she looks away. If I were to use her irrational logic, I should be irritated with her, since Lord Blackburn invited Robert and me first.

  Penelope stands apart from the others, and she latches onto my arm as soon as I join her. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She looks as though she’d like to say more, but her mother moves within earshot.

  “You’ll have to fill me in on what I missed,” I say with a pointed look in Eliza’s direction.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she says wryly. “Oh, but my cousin has been filling us in about the horses—that’s rather interesting.”

  I suck in my breath. “That’s right. You and Lord Blackburn are cousins.”

  She nods—confused, I’m sure, by my sudden enthusiasm. “Yes.”

  I lean in close and lower my voice. “Have you heard any rumors about him?”

  She screws up her face in thought. “Maybe the odd scandal abroad—nothing too important, though.” When my expression turns to one of relief, she hastens to add, “But we aren’t very close. We’re distant cousins actually, and my family rarely sees him.”

  My excitement dwindles. Just when I thought I had proof Lord Thornewood was mistaken. . .. Though, of course, it does nothing to explain my instinctual reaction to him. I watch as Lord Blackburn and Grandmama move away from the others, both speaking animatedly. From the pinched expression on my grandmother’s face, and the rapid gestures Lord Blackburn makes, it seems as though they are arguing. But how can that be so when we’ve only just arrived? For once, I wish my grandmother and I had the type of relationship where I could ask her about the exchange later.

  “Why? Have you heard any?” she asks.

  I hesitate before shaking my head. “Someone mentioned something in passing, but I won’t give it credence by repeating it.”

  “I hope it wasn’t anything too far-fetched.”

  “Not particularly.”

  Lord Blackburn finally escapes from my grandmother and greets me again with a wide smile and an outstretched hand. If he is still bothered by his conversation with her, then he makes no show of it. “Come, you must see Destrier—one of my best-producing sires. Twelve of his foals have gone on to be champions.”

  He leads me over to a blood-red bay stallion that is taller and more muscular than the other horses in the line. He stands calmly enough, but the constant swivel of his ears tells me he’s anxious.

  “He’s beautiful,” I say and reach out to put my hand on his velvety nose. I infuse a feeling of calmness through our brief touch, and his muscles relax.

  “You’re the first of our party here to touch him,” Lord Blackburn says approvingly. “Everyone else has kept their distance. Though they may just be more interested in observing than interacting.”

  I glance back at Eliza, Amelia, and the others. More likely, they’re just here for a chance to observe not the horses but Lord Blackburn’s estate.

  Robert walks up next to me and pats Destrier, completely unintimidated by the horse’s size. “This is a fine-looking animal. Is he fast?”

  “He was fast,” Lord Blackburn corrects. “He’s now ten years old and only used for breeding.”

  Robert gives him a sly smile. “How fast?”

  “English Triple Crown winner fast,” Lord Blackburn says.

  “This must be Destrier then.”

  Lord Blackburn grins, and I can tell by the puff of his chest he’s thrilled. “You know your horse racing.”

  I must admit my mind wanders after that, for they both launch into every aspect of racing and I lose interest. So it must have taken Lord Blackburn several attempts to get my attention because his voice is loud in my ear when he asks, “Would you like to watch them run?”

  I look around in surprise; all the horses have been taken away by the grooms. I have always been skilled at escaping from reality. My father used to tease I had wandered off to frolic with the faeries. Sometimes, like right now, it’s embarrassing. I blush and try to look excessively interested.

  “I have a grass track behind the stables,” he says.
“The horses should be saddled and ready to go.”

  I have never been to a horse race, but I could watch horses galloping for hours. “You must be able to read our minds and find what we’d like to see most,” I say.

  His smile is genuine as he leads us to the track, which is impressive enough in its own right. I had expected a down-trodden field for some reason, but instead, a very tidy area has been created with white fencing. One of the grooms trots a long-legged filly that reminds me of Robert’s mare, Serenity. Her coat is even the same reddish shade of chestnut, though that’s not uncommon. Most horses are either chestnut or bay in color.

  “This is our most promising filly this year—Gifted out of Destrier. The colt,” he indicates with a tilt of his head toward a tall bay, “is Ovation out of Destrier.”

  “Brother and sister then?” I ask with a glance at my own brother. I wonder if the horses are as competitive as we are.

  “Only half, but yes.”

  Eliza joins us at the rail, her cheeks flushed from the wind. “You’ve prepared such an exciting day for us, my lord. Perhaps we should even place bets on who is the fastest.” She puts her hand on his arm and leans in. “Though of course you couldn’t join in the fun.”

  I wait for the little sting of jealousy like I had when I saw her dancing with Lord Thornewood, but it never comes. This makes me irritated enough to snap, “I’ll take that bet.”

  Her eyebrows arch. “Katherine, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you were the type.”

  I ignore her asinine remark. “What is your wager?”

  Her expression turns more serious as she looks over both horses. The filly looks as though she will have speed on her side, but as I look over the track, I see the grass is rather long. This will slow her down. The colt is well-muscled, brawny where the filly is lithe, but I think he will have the advantage on this track. The grass won’t be able to hold him back, and he’ll have the endurance to make it to the end.

  “Ten pounds on the filly,” she says, and I hide my glee.

  “Such a large sum,” Lord Blackburn says. I search his face to see if there is any telltale sign of a man addicted to gambling, but his expression is unreadable.

  “Then I will place the same on the colt,” I say, and Penelope looks at me with wide eyes, her fingers worrying the ribbons on her hat. When Robert doesn’t say anything, I know I made the right choice.

  “Anyone else care to place a bet?” Lord Blackburn asks, but keeps his voice pitched low so Lady Hasting and Grandmama, who are standing a few feet away and deep in conversation, don’t hear.

  Penelope and Robert shake their heads.

  Lord Blackburn nods to his grooms, and they line up the horses. The filly dances to the left, shying away from some unseen thing—probably the wind. I feel even more justified in my choice, until they take off.

  The filly becomes focused as soon as she sees her half-brother racing beside her. She tries to pull ahead, but the jockey is smart; he keeps her in check. He means to save her speed for the end, and with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realize I didn’t take the riders’ skill into account.

  The colt’s hooves strike through the grass like shovels, divots flying in his wake. He is in the lead, but I can see from here he’s not really trying. When the jockey finally gives the filly her head, she’ll pass him as if he was standing still.

  I chew the inside of my lip. Ten pounds is quite a sum. I shouldn’t have let Eliza goad me into such an agreement. I picture the way her face will look when she wins, the catty grin. I can’t stomach it.

  The horses are rounding the corner, about to start the homestretch, and the filly’s jockey lets her make her move. She surges forward, quickly closing the distance between her and the colt.

  Up ahead of them, I notice a rope dangling from the fence. I think of the way the filly shied at nothing in the beginning of the race. I wish I can say I don’t do exactly what I am thinking, but once the image of Eliza’s gloating face fills my mind, I can’t let it go.

  I concentrate on the breeze. It’s been playing with us today, like a kitten with a ball of yarn, batting at our clothes and disappearing, only to pounce on us again. I close my eyes and summon that breeze to me once again. It hovers over me, questioningly, pulling baby fine hairs from my chignon. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lord Blackburn watching me. His expression is strange, his brows furrowed as if trying to puzzle out a difficult equation. It distracts me for a moment, and I almost lose my hold on the arcana. Just before it fades away, I form the image of what I want in my mind, and the breeze obeys.

  When the filly passes the rope, it flies up, spooking her. She contorts her body away from it, eyes wide. Her gait falters, and the colt gallops past her. He crosses the finish line before the jockey can get the filly’s attention back to the race.

  The triumphant smile melts from Eliza’s face, and though part of me is gloating, another part tells me misusing arcana was wrong, wrong, wrong. My brother looks in the direction of the rope and then back to me with a single eyebrow raised. Guilt flails inside of me like an earthworm wriggling in the sun.

  “Well done,” Lord Blackburn enthuses, looking more proud of me than of the horses. Something is off with his reaction, and goosebumps once again spread over my skin. Surely he couldn’t have known what I was doing. I’ve never known anyone who could sense arcana, other than my family. Though isn’t that exactly what my mother warned me about?

  “Yes,” Eliza says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “well done. A nice piece of luck. I’ll have the money sent to your townhome.”

  A few heartbeats pass while I struggle internally with myself. Here’s a chance for me to redeem myself—sort of. Good Katherine wins out, and I say, “Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Eliza. It was more fun just to watch the race.”

  Lord Blackburn looks horrified and angrier than he has any right to be. “Katherine, a bet is a bet. Reneging wouldn’t be fair to either of you.” His tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard it, and it puts me on edge. I don’t care a fig for the bet anymore, and I grit my teeth. Why did he have to get in the way of my redemption? Eliza now has no choice but to hold to her end of the bargain.

  “You’ll get your money,” she says and walks off with Amelia, no doubt as annoyed with Lord Blackburn as I am.

  “Now that everything’s settled,” Lord Blackburn says, his mood switching to happy-go-lucky again, “anyone up for a tour of the house?”

  Robert’s face falls, and I belatedly remember Lord Blackburn’s promise to take us riding—the only thing Robert ever really wants to do.

  “We won’t have a chance to ride?” I ask.

  He narrows his eyes at my contradiction. “Not everyone would be able to participate,” he says with a nod toward Grandmama and Lady Hasting.

  I shoot Robert a sympathetic look, and he shrugs.

  “Ah, forgive me,” Lord Blackburn says after watching our exchange. “I’d quite forgotten my promise to you, Mr. Sinclair.” He calls over one of the jockeys, the one who rode the colt. “Matthew, would you mind taking Mr. Sinclair on a tour of the stables? He’s an accomplished horseman and would do well on Gifted.”

  “It would be my pleasure, my lord,” Matthew says.

  Robert’s face relaxes into an easy grin, and a smile replaces my earlier tense expression. “This is more than I could have hoped for,” Robert says. “I thank you.”

  “Good, good,” Lord Blackburn says. “Now if you’ll both excuse me for just a moment, I wish to inform the others of the tour.”

  When Lord Blackburn walks away, my grandmother pulls me to the side. I didn’t realize she was so close, but judging by her serious expression, she must have heard the entire exchange.

  “Don’t cause any more problems for Lord Blackburn,” she says, her voice an angry whisper. “This is his estate, and if he wants you to tour his home—his family crypt—you will do so.”

  “It may be his estate,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean I have
to cater to his every wish—especially if it goes against an earlier promise.”

  “That’s exactly what it means.” Her grip on my arm tightens almost painfully. “Now don’t ruin this.”

  She walks away in a huff, and I rub my arm while I glare at her retreating back.

  Lord Blackburn returns with the others. Eliza and Amelia are both chattering animatedly, probably excited to see the inside of his grand manor. I glance in the direction of the stables and wish I could beg to join Robert. Honestly I’d rather see the horses than the inside of some stuffy house.

  Penelope loops her arm through mine, and I smile at her gratefully. “We must take note of every piece of fine china and crystal,” she says in a serious tone. “The number of chandeliers and paintings is also extremely important.”

  I nod seriously. “Yes, we must also be aware of the height of the windows in the sitting room, for I could not live anywhere that didn’t have floor-to-ceiling windows.”

  She laughs and glances over at her mother and my grandmother behind us. “I swear they’re having an identical conversation—only they aren’t joking.”

  “Oh, I can practically guarantee it.”

  Lord Blackburn holds up his hand to get our attention. “If everyone will follow me, we’ll walk through the garden first.”

  He strides away, and I lean toward Penelope as we follow. “The garden must have at least three fountains or it won’t be worth our time.”

  “Yes, but our real concern should be whether the statues are Greek or Roman.”

  I laugh quietly, feeling only marginally guilty to be amusing ourselves at my grandmother and her mother’s expense. But then I think of Grandmama’s earlier censure, and the marginal guilt disappears.

  The gardens, though, are nothing to scoff at. Amidst rectangles of perfectly manicured lawns are brightly-blooming azaleas, purple butterfly bushes, and a sweeping stone railing to contain it all. Penelope nudges me as we pass a weathered stone fountain, complete with a Greek goddess statue pouring the water.