by Eva Chase
Lillian blinked at me. “Rory—that wouldn’t be standard procedure.”
“How much of a standard can you have when barons aren’t kidnapped every day—or even every decade? She’s my mother. I want to be there. You’ll be able to figure out her exact location faster if I can also help you with the spells nearby, won’t you?”
I could tell from her expression that my last point was true. Her frown hadn’t shifted, though. “It’s likely to be a dangerous operation. Your mother will be heavily guarded. I can’t in good conscience take you into a situation like that. Other than her, you’re the only Bloodstone left.”
I waved in the general direction of California. “Declan Ashgrave was allowed to come along on the mission to get me out of the joymancers’ custody, even though he’s the only Ashgrave you’ve got.”
“You were being held in a much less secure fashion.”
“You don’t even know how my mother is being held yet.” I gave her the most firm look I could summon. She might be some thirty years my elder and a high-ranking blacksuit, but I was the Bloodstone scion and, until my mother was back here, as close to a baron as they had. That authority had to be worth something. “I’m not insisting you take me into battle. I just want to be there and part of the discussion—to know what’s happening, and to contribute if I can. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
Her jaw worked. The gazes of the other blacksuits around the field were trained on us, which she could no doubt feel as well as I could. I thought I’d made a solid argument.
“I lived with joymancers for seventeen years,” I added for good measure. “It might turn out I saw or heard things that’ll end up helping us get her out.”
Whether it was my last point that nudged her over the edge or she’d been on the verge of agreeing anyway, I wasn’t sure, but Lillian’s shoulders relaxed slightly. She gave a wry chuckle.
“Every time we talk, I see more of the Bloodstone in you. Your mother would have made the same argument in your position. All right—when we head south, you’ll come with us. Now can we begin?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I hurried over to my designated spot so I wouldn’t annoy the blacksuits with any more delays. My sense of victory was tempered by Lillian’s comment about my mother. Did I want to be like the woman who’d considered Malcolm’s father a good friend?
I guessed I’d find that out once I got to meet her in the flesh… which shouldn’t be much farther off now.
The grass squeaked under my shoes, still damp from last night’s rain, but the clouds had finally broken. Mid-morning sun streamed over me. I turned my face to its warmth for a moment before readying myself by the central conducting piece. “Go ahead.”
My body tensed slightly at the rising murmurs of casting around me. The memory of the emotions that had trickled through me alongside the previous rush of magic was still fresh in my mind. Then the flood of energy hit me, sizzling through my body, and for a few seconds I couldn’t think or remember much at all.
The edge of fury niggled at me again, but I focused my attention on the stream of magic flowing out of me to the southwest. The blacksuits were angry—fine. I’d committed to this course. Hopefully I’d be able to mitigate the worst of the violence if I was there alongside them planning the assault. If I didn’t cooperate now, eventually they’d find a way to move forward without me.
The wave of energy swept me onward, even as it gnawed at my muscles. I was going to feel plenty of impact afterward; that much I could tell. I dragged air into my lungs and reached out toward the main area of our search. Where was that glimmer of a presence I’d known down to my bones was my mother? Where had the joymancers locked her away?
There. A hint of the impression grazed my senses. My heart thumped faster in anticipation, but this time I didn’t let my nerves get the better of me. I stretched farther, urging the magic rushing through me to follow my lead, pointing it toward our goal.
I felt as if my mind yawned open between here and there, and then a fresh surge of outside magic slammed into me as the blacksuits caught on. I lost my breath, my sense of my body, all thought except the crackle of supernatural energy that consumed me. Somewhere in the midst of that furor, my mother’s presence remained, like a faint but undeniable glow. I grasped onto it and tried to hold steady, steady, steady—
A blazing pain tore through my skull and echoed through my limbs. My legs gave. The blacksuits’ magic wrenched out of me as I toppled to the ground.
My head smacked the grass. I winced and reached a wobbly arm to cradle it, my gaze rolling up to the sky.
Lillian reached my side a second later. She touched my head as if checking for obvious injuries, her expression a weird mix of elation and concern. I’d have liked to sit up to face her properly, but every muscle in my body ached with exhaustion. I’d take a little more time on the ground, thank you.
“Did it work?” I asked, my voice coming out strained. “Did you find her?”
Lillian nodded with a small smile. “You did wonderfully, Rory. We know exactly where to go. They have her in Sacramento. You’ll have a chance to recover while we prepare our initial plan of action, but we should be able to leave before the end of the week.”
Chapter Fourteen
Declan
I’d planned on touching base with Jude later—not right when I was heading off to a meeting of the pentacle of barons, in any case. But running into him on the third floor landing as I was heading down from my dorm was too convenient an opportunity to let pass.
Jude nodded hello to me without any hint of discomfort in his expression, which was a good sign. Hopefully it could be a brief conversation.
I held up my hand to stop him before he could continue on up. The staircase above and below us was empty, and I couldn’t hear anyone out of sight, but just in case I pitched my voice low to avoid it carrying.
“Hey,” I said. “Are we good? You seemed a little… unsettled when the bunch of us were talking in the lounge on Saturday. I didn’t like keeping a secret from the rest of you—I spent most of that time trying to avoid having anything I needed to be secretive about in the first place.”
“But she’s just too irresistible, huh?” Jude’s smile was more amused than anything else. “Don’t beat yourself up, Mr. By-The-Books. It just caught me by surprise. She’s certainly united the pentacle of scions, hasn’t she?”
To the extent that it might be difficult to disengage ourselves from her when we needed to. But I wasn’t going to let myself worry about that now—I’d made my decision. “Just so you know, she was always upfront with me that she was seeing you. She never diminished her relationship with you in any way.”
“I wasn’t nervous about that. She’s got at least ten times as much caring and compassion in her than any fearmancer I know. I think there’s plenty to go around between the four of us.”
That should have been enough to satisfy me, but I couldn’t shake the niggling sense that something more than surprise had affected him during the meeting. I might never use insight on my fellow scions without permission, but when you studied the art as much as I had, you developed a knack for reading people without magic too, once you saw certain patterns over and over. Jude had wanted to get out of that conversation—it had unnerved him somehow.
“If there’s anything else bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?” I said. “If your father has been hassling you the way Connar’s parents have him—or laying into you like Malcolm’s—”
Jude cut me off with a jerky shake of his head. “Are you offering as a friend or as one scion to another?” he asked, his gaze sharpening.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re part of the same thing. I might have one foot in the door as baron, but our pentacle is still my first priority. As colleagues and as friends.”
Jude’s smile tightened. He shrugged and moved to saunter past me. “Well, you don’t need to worry about me either. No projects here for you to fix.”
I might have appreciated the drive on the warm and sunny September day more if I hadn’t been so apprehensive of what might be waiting for me at the Fortress of the Pentacle. It was our first official meeting since Rory had foiled the older barons’ plans and been absolved of the murder charge. Because it was an official meeting, my aunt Ambrosia would almost certainly be making the trip to lord over the Ashgrave point on the table with her limited authority as regent for the last bit of time she had in that role.
The meetings of the barony were rarely pleasant, and this one seemed likely to be even less so than usual.
I soaked in a last bit of sunshine on the short walk from the parking lot to the ominous stone presence of the Fortress and then stepped into the cool halls. My feet rapped against the polished floor too loudly as I made my way to the meeting room. A couple of voices trickled out—Julian Nightwood’s and Marguerite Stormhurst’s. Theirs had been the only other cars in the lot so far.
They trailed off in their conversation as I came in, Baron Nightwood watching me with cool consideration and Baron Stormhurst with a slight edge of hostility. I took my seat at the Ashgrave point on the round table with its pentacle carving.
“No need for the other chair,” Nightwood said with a glance toward the second seat at my end. “We neglected to mention this meeting to your aunt. Her presence is barely even necessary as a formality at this point.”
I’d have celebrated her absence if I hadn’t distrusted the man who’d arranged it so much. “Was there any particular reason for that call?” I said evenly.
He folded his hands on his table, his demeanor even more imperious than I’d seen Malcolm manage, for all the Nightwood scion looked like a younger version of his father. “We have matters to discuss that require even more discretion than usual.”
“So, where the hell is Killbrook?” Baron Stormhurst muttered, flexing her sinewy shoulders as she braced her elbows on the table.
Jude’s father arrived with just a minute to spare, rubbing his narrow jaw. Giving off his usual harried vibe, he dropped into his chair without bothering to remove his jacket and scanned the table. “Let’s get started, then. What’s this momentous news, Nightwood?”
Obviously Baron Nightwood had already tipped the others off a little more than he’d bothered to inform me. I leaned back in my chair at a casual angle, not wanting to show my tension.
Nightwood cleared his throat and glanced at each of us in turn. In that instant, I couldn’t help wondering what the pentacle of barons would have been like if my mother and Rory’s hadn’t been torn from it, if Connar’s mother had never wrenched the position from his uncle. Like I’d told Rory, the Barons Nightwood and Bloodstone had been allies—and long-time friends. The original Baron Stormhurst had grown up with them. And maybe all that upheaval had made Baron Killbrook more withdrawn than he’d been before.
My mother might never have totally fit in, but the other four of them might have made a much tighter group than we had now. The older barons were willing to scheme together so they could each reach their own ends, some of which they shared, but I never got the impression they liked each other all that much.
I sure as hell hoped our generation wouldn’t end up in the same position once we all reached the table.
Nightwood’s mouth set in a thin line that was almost a smile. “I’ve been informed by a high ranking member of the blacksuits that Althea Bloodstone is still alive and has most likely been in joymancer custody for the past seventeen years. They’re already planning an operation to retrieve her as soon as possible.”
I made my eyes widen as if this was news to me, the way it should have been if Rory had kept the subject secret as the blacksuits would have wanted. Baron Stormhurst just stared at Nightwood for a few beats. Killbrook’s lips parted in shock. Then he started to chuckle.
“My God. All this time, and the queen of Bloodstone rises up from the dead. I should have known she’d be capable of a maneuver like that.”
“Are they completely sure?” Stormhurst asked, but the urgency in her voice sounded more eager than wary.
“My source waited until they were certain before she passed the word on to me, to avoid the chaos that would result if they made an announcement like that only to have to retract it.” Nightwood’s lips curled a little farther. He was definitely smiling now. “We’ll have to wait and see what state she’s in after what the joymancers have put her through—but Althea’s made of strong stuff. I expect our problems with the Bloodstone point on the pentacle have come to an end.”
He assumed that whatever move they’d wanted to bully—or outright force—Rory into supporting, her mother would be immediately on board with. A chill twisted through my gut.
Rory had asked me how her mother fit in with the pentacle—what she’d believed, how she might have behaved. Maybe I could give her more of an answer if I asked my questions carefully enough.
“Do you think she’ll be able to bring her daughter in line?” I asked, as if that was a totally reasonable thing to want.
“She’s certainly not going to tolerate any joymancer-influenced attitudes,” Killbrook said with another rough chuckle.
“Or Nary-sympathizing.” Nightwood lifted his head haughtily. “She knows their proper place.”
That definitely wasn’t encouraging. Rory might not be all that keen on the joymancers as a group anymore, but she’d still picked up a lot of her parents’ gentler perspective—a perspective no one could have mistaken for normal fearmancer ideals. I couldn’t imagine Baron Bloodstone would feel anything but rage toward her long-time captors after her ordeal, and that feeling might extend to anyone who criticized the fearmancer approach.
Of course, she also hadn’t seen her daughter in nearly two decades and might have spent that time assuming the girl was dead. Was there any chance maternal affection would override the political side of things?
I kept my tone as mild as before. “Of course, she might be rather upset when she finds out what her daughter has been through, between the murder charge and the various incidents at school.”
Nightwood waved his hand dismissively. “The girl was broken in. She had a fair hearing. There’s nothing worthy of dispute there.”
There would be if it came out that the three figures sitting at the table with me had orchestrated most of Rory’s troubles. But before I could find another angle from which to nudge for more information, Stormhurst spun on Killbrook.
“What the hell is the matter with your heir?” she demanded in her usual blunt manner. “Word is going around that he made a show of leaving the Killbrook properties—that he’s gone off and taken an apartment on his own?”
What? That news was a total surprise. Jude hadn’t mentioned a thing to any of us scions about it, as far as I knew.
His father shrugged stiffly. “Young men want to stretch their independence. He’s always been rather obstinate. I’ll give him a chance to get the impulse out of his system before I rein him in.”
Stormhurst let out a huff. “Be sure you don’t leave it too long, or it’ll reflect badly on the Killbrooks as a whole. Can’t expect much from a baron-to-be who doesn’t even respect his own family.”
It was Killbrook’s turn to smile. “Soon he won’t be my only heir. My family will have options.”
Was that what had made Jude edgy—had his father already threatened to disown him as scion? Fucking hell, he should have told us if that was the case. There had to be something we could do to settle the matter in his favor. Jude might be prickly at certain times and careless at others, but he got his act together when it counted. He’d proven that with Rory more than once, not that his father would have seen that as a mark in his favor.
I’d known they’d never reall
y gotten along, but I’d had no idea their relationship had fractured to such an extreme.
“An additional heir is an excellent point of leverage among other things,” Nightwood said. His gaze slid to me, and I tensed under his scrutiny while keeping up the appearance of nonchalance as well as I could. “The talk of siblings reminds me. We made an executive decision that didn’t require full votes, Ashgrave.”
I cocked my head, suppressing the thump of my pulse. “A decision about what?”
Killbrook focused on me, clearly glad that he was no longer the center of attention. His eyes narrowed. “You stepped down as teacher’s aide. There’s no more conflict of interest. No reason your brother and secondary scion should be getting his education from mages overseas whom we can barely monitor.”
My stomach flipped. Oh, no. They hadn’t—
They had. Nightwood looked so satisfied I wanted to lean across the table and punch him so hard I knocked the smirk off his face. I caught my hands before they could even clench.
“We’ve summoned Noah Ashgrave to Bloodstone University,” he said. “He’s had plenty of international broadening as it is. I’m sure it’ll be a relief for you to have your brother back at home with you.”
Back at home where the other barons could make him a target of their schemes so much easier. Where they could use him to try to manipulate me. I swallowed hard, fighting down both my temper and a wave of nerves.
It’d been hard enough to feel Noah was totally safe with an ocean between him and the figures in front of me. They hadn’t chosen this moment to change the power balance for no reason. They meant to threaten him any way they could to keep me in line.
And I had to pretend I didn’t know that. Had to pretend it was a relief and not a threat.
I forced myself to smile. “It will,” I said. “How very considerate of you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Rory