Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances

by T. M. Franklin

  “I think blue,” she said, setting the green one on the bed.

  I held up my hands obediently as she pulled off the nightgown and laced my corset. It had been a long time since anyone had helped me dress, not since I was a little girl and Hannah helped me. But today, I couldn’t find the energy to dress myself. I was secretly relieved that Liana was willing to do it for me.

  Liana helped me step into the blue dress and pulled it up. The dress had about a million tiny pearl buttons up the back. It made sense why Liana assumed I would need help dressing. The dress was nicer than anything I had ever owned. It had a beautifully embroidered collar and sleeves that flared around my wrists. The skirt was straight and required no petticoats. It was a little too long for me, but Liana wasn’t willing to pin it up and hide the nice embroidery around the hem. I would just have to lift the skirt when I walked.

  My shoes were dirty and wet from my adventures the day before, but Liana managed to find a pair of slippers I could use instead. A too-long dress and slippers. If I needed to run, I was out of luck.

  Better not get caught. There’s no way I’m escaping in this outfit.

  “There,” Liana cooed. “Now isn’t that much better?” She stepped back and smiled at me. I tried to return the smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace. My mind was a little occupied imagining my own gruesome death in this very nice dress once the Mejors realized I was here on less-than-friendly terms.

  Oh boy.

  “Let’s get you to the mirror so you can see how you look,” Liana suggested, tugging gently at my arm.

  The word “mirror” snapped me from my daze.

  “No!” I shrieked, yanking my arm away from the maid. Her face fell, and I hurried to cover for my rude behavior. “I — I’m deathly afraid of mirrors,” I lied. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly a lie anymore. Mirrors = no reflection = everyone knowing I had no soul = burning at the stake. So yeah, maybe I was rightly afraid of mirrors now.

  “Alright,” Liana said, soothingly. “I’ll go ahead and cover all the mirrors in here.”

  “That would be wonderful,” I said, and gave her the first genuine smile I had mustered all day.

  Liana led me down the hall toward a dining room with a long banquet table. The Mejors were clustered at one end, just beginning their meal. The smell of roasted meats, fresh bread, and gravy made my mouth water. I hadn’t eaten in days.

  An older couple sat at the head of the table with three young men flanking them. The oldest man, who must have been the Duke, was in the middle of a story when Liana waved me into the room. Micah stood immediately, almost knocking over his chair in his haste.

  “Hello,” he said with a little smile as he reached me, taking me by the elbow. “Mother, Father, I would like to introduce a guest who arrived late last night. This is Delta Delaroe.”

  A little white dog leapt out of the woman’s lap and bounded over to me, barking and growling with adorable ferocity.

  “Oh, Sinzy, stop that. I’m so sorry, my dear. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s usually so tame. Liana, Love, would you take Sinzy away?”

  “Yes, Lady Mejor.” Liana bowed her head and then stepped forward to pick up the small ball of fur. As soon as I was out of the dog’s sight, the barking ceased. At least someone could tell I was trouble.

  “I am so sorry about that,” Lady Mejor said as Micah directed me toward the table. I saw a place had already been set for me, next to his.

  “Delta, this is my father and mother, Duke Adonis and Duchess Bertha Mejor. These rascals are my brothers, Patrick and Adam.” The two brothers were younger than Micah, both with the same dark hair and blue-green ocean eyes.

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Graces.” I bowed to each of them. My father, and then my brother after his death, had been appointed by the king to the role of Governor. Any wealth my family had was a result of the salary my brothers received for their service. This family, on the other hand, was old money. The Mejors were directly related to the king. They had likely lived in opulence for generations.

  “So,” Duke Mejor laid his fork down and inspected me. “You must be one of Ambassador Elias’s sisters? He talks about you lot all the time. Seven sisters! I could barely handle three children. Your parents had nine!”

  Duchess Mejor dusted off some stray hairs the dog left on her lap. “Elias always said that Micah should marry one of his sisters. Are you here to volunteer?”

  “Mother!” Micah’s face turned a deep red.

  Under better circumstances, maybe I would have been interested. Micah was certainly handsome. He seemed kind. And, oh, those eyes… Okay, so maybe I was already interested, but not enough to forget why I had really come to the Mejor Estate. My life and soul were on the line. Romance would have to wait.

  The Mejors were fantastic hosts, insisting I eat my fill. Duke Mejor entertained us with stories of his adventures at the palace, where one of the young princes had a knack for getting into massive amounts of trouble and driving the whole court crazy. No one mentioned Ariana, who was probably eating a quiet meal all alone in her windowless, hidden bedroom.

  Thinking of Ariana filled me with sorrow. My sister-in-law. Maybe we would have been friends had I not arrived to kill her.

  All I wanted to do was hide in my room until nightfall, when I could more easily creep out and commit the wretched deed I had been sent for. But Micah insisted on staying by my side at all times throughout the evening. He gave me a tour of the manor, which was actually very helpful. It gave me a chance to map possible escape routes. On a normal day, I would have loved Micah’s attention. But instead, I was wracked with guilt that he was being so kind. It would break his heart when he learned that I had only come to kill his hidden refugee.

  After the tour of the manor, Micah took me to the stables to show off the horses, all of whom hated me just as much as the dog had. They began to panic and snort as soon as I came into sight.

  “Something must be in the air,” Micah said, never once suspecting that I was the cause of the uproar. “Maybe a storm is coming.”

  A storm was definitely coming, but it wasn’t the kind he was expecting.

  I began to understand a sort of malicious intelligence behind the witch’s decision to send me. I made such a bad assassin that it was actually quite a brilliant plan. No one suspected me of any dark designs. The Mejors welcomed me into their home as if I were an old family friend. Rather than hiding Ariana from me, Micah had led me right to her. No one had any idea that I was hiding an enchanted dagger under my borrowed mattress.

  A messenger arrived just as the sun was setting over the horizon. He caused quite a stir, insisting that he speak directly to the Duke and no one else. Only Micah, who was being groomed to assume his father’s responsibilities someday, was allowed in the room with them. I paced across the plush carpet in my silly slippers, chewing my nails. On the other side of the door, the Mejors might be receiving news from Elias. Perhaps he had returned what he had stolen and the curse was canceled. Would I then be released from my contract with the witch, my soul returned? It was too good to hope, but hope I did, working myself into a frenzy of nerves.

  When the door finally opened, I threw myself into Micah’s arms. “Any news?” I asked. “From my brother?”

  Micah shook his head. “News, yes. But not from your brother. It’s the situation in Horr. They’re requesting Barune’s help.”

  Behind him, the Duke gave instructions to the messenger. “Go straight to the castle and inform the king that I am on my way. Patrick,” he called for his second-oldest son, “you will join me. Micah, you will receive all messengers and attend meetings in my absence. Listen to your mother.”

  “Yes, father.” Micah still held my arms in his hands. The Duke noticed this and winked at me. “And you, young lady, take good care of Micah.”

  Micah’s face turned red again. I might have been charmed if I weren’t so distracted imagining how I would inevitably break Mica
h’s heart and likely never see him again, even if I didn’t get killed in the process.

  “Are you alright?” Micah asked.

  I nodded, waving away his distress. “Yes, just concerned.” I took a deep, steadying breath. “Perhaps I should return to my room and rest. You seem to be busy.”

  Micah gave me a grateful smile and turned to a servant who had been impatiently waiting for his attention. I wandered away. As I passed the open door of a sitting room, I heard a familiar deep growl. Sinzy, the Duchess’s little dog, came running in my direction, tiny teeth bared. I shut the door before it could reach me. I heard a little thump as the dog collided with the door and hurried away before anyone could see what I had done. I usually loved animals, but they sure didn’t seem to love me lately.

  To be completely honest, I didn’t really love myself very much lately, either.

  8

  I remained in my room until I heard no noise beyond the door. The house gradually quieted from the ruckus caused by the messenger’s arrival. In the meantime, I check and rechecked and triple-checked that the dagger was still hidden safely under the mattress. It was there every time, but I still drove myself crazy, worrying that it would vanish the moment I looked away. I finally took it out of its hiding place and hung it from my corset again. Feeling the knife against my leg, however, didn’t make me any calmer.

  I cracked the door of my room open and peeked up and down the hall. All was quiet and still, not a soul in sight. I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath and stepped into the hallway. Lifting my skirt so I wouldn’t trip on the hem, I made my way in the direction of the kitchens. At least the dainty slippers I wore were quiet against the carpet. I moved like a ghost down the corridor.

  I had to try three different doors before I finally found the closet that led to Ariana’s room. Ugh. I really did make a terrible assassin.

  I closed the closet door behind me, squeaked in the darkness, and opened the door again, just a crack — just enough so I could see. I stood on my toes and felt for the molding above the door. I couldn’t reach. Fantastic. I looked around the dimly lit space until my gaze settled on a wooden mop bucket. I grabbed the bucket and flipped it open, then stepped up. Better. I felt around the top of the molding until I found a small lever. When pushing it didn’t work, I hooked my finger around it and pulled instead. I heard a click, and then the wall opened. I replaced the bucket and gathered my skirt in on arm. It was about to get very dark, and I wasn’t going to risk tripping and giving myself away.

  “You can do this,” I murmured to myself as I pulled the closet door shut. Completely blinded, I took tiny, shuffling steps in the direction of the open wall. Feeling around with my free hand, I stepped through the wall, but I didn’t close it behind me. I would need to make a quick escape when my task was done. Already, the dagger at my thigh was burning warmer.

  I almost crashed into the next wall-door that would lead to Ariana’s room. This one would also have a lever, also hidden in the molding. Also beyond my reach.

  Grumbling under my breath, I shuffled back the way I had come, felt in the darkness for the bucket, and carried it back with me into the dark secret corridor. I set it down and balanced on top of it. Balancing on a bucket in the darkness, about to enter the room where I was going to kill someone, I almost lost my nerve. But then I found the lever. The wall opened, and it was too late to turn back. Light flooded into the dark space.

  “Micah?”

  Oh, blast. She was still awake. I couldn’t kill her if she was awake and staring at me. I wouldn’t have the nerve, not to mention the skill. I floundered on top of the bucket. Was it too late to run? Would I trip on the dress? Stub my toe in the darkness?

  “Delta?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Ariana’s voice so close. I stumbled awkwardly off the bucket, grateful that I was mostly in shadow so Ariana wouldn’t have to watch her future murderer floundering around like a drowning cat.

  I cleared my throat. “Hello,” I said, foolishly.

  Hello. Jolly good night we’re having. I’ve come to kill you. Please hold still.

  Worst. Assassin. Ever.

  “What are you doing here?” Lit from behind, I couldn’t see Ariana’s expression. She was probably glaring at me, suspicious of my late night visit. Of course the only one who suspected any dark misdeeds would be the one I had come to kill. “Never mind,” she said. “Come in.” She disappeared behind the wall. I followed, feeling sheepish. Once inside, Ariana swung the wall shut.

  The dagger responded to her presence with such enthusiasm that it nearly burned the skin of my leg through its jeweled sheath. Or maybe it was all in my head. I couldn’t tell anymore. Ariana was still waiting for an explanation.

  “I wanted to talk,” I blurted.

  “I’m surprised you came,” Ariana said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “I assumed you hated me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I said.

  But I know someone who does.

  Ariana had been painting before I so rudely interrupted. She reached behind her back to untie her paint-splattered apron and hung it over the back of the chair at the desk, near that blasted mirror.

  “Usually only Micah visits me,” she said, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. She seemed nervous.

  She should be nervous. I came to kill her.

  “Micah’s pretty busy,” I said. “And it’s actually the middle of the night.”

  “Oh!” She looked at the clock on the wall, probably for the first time in quite a while. “I didn’t even notice. I sort of get lost in the painting, and there are no windows, so I guess I’ve been making my own.” She gestured to two of the paintings, depicting beautiful landscapes.

  “You painted these?” I asked, awestruck. They were both incredibly detailed recreations of a wooded area full of wildflowers, with a little creek bubbling past.

  “Yes,” a gentle pride glowed in Ariana’s voice. “It’s near where I grew up, back in Horr — back before everything went so wrong. I like to remember it this way.”

  My gaze went from one painting to the other, then to the one she was still working on. This third one wasn’t a landscape. It was a portrait of a man from the waist up. He sat in a chair beside a window, his arm draped over the window sill in a position of confidence and comfort.

  “Elias,” I said. I recognized the shape of his nose and the curl of his lips as he smiled at something off the frame. His face looked nearly complete, but his arms and midsection were still charcoal sketches. It looked like he was slowly coming to life.

  “Yes,” Ariana smiled fondly at the half-finished painting. She clearly loved the man. She glanced over at me, chewing her lip. “But I can paint over it, if it offends you.”

  “Offends me? No, it’s beautiful. It looks just like him.” Ariana looked so hopeful and pleased. She soaked up my praise as if it was something she didn’t hear very often, something she longed for. “Ariana, I don’t hate you. I’m just surprised about all of this.”

  And I really don’t want to kill you.

  Why did Ariana have to be so sweet, so bloody likeable? Upholding the contract would have been so much easier if she was petty and mean. But she wasn’t. She was kind and soft-spoken. She surprised me. Elias always seemed to gravitate to the loud, flirty girls. And yet, now that I met her, Ariana did seem like the perfect complement to my brother. Ariana was reserved and thoughtful, with an underlying sense of confidence. Elias, on the other hand, tended to be rash and quick with a comeback. Elias always spoke his mind, which was a rather dangerous habit for an ambassador. But he was so charming and honest that everyone loved him. He hadn’t managed to insult anyone enough to get himself in danger.

  Until he messed with the witch.

  Did the witch know how much Ariana loved my brother? Was that why I had been sent for her, to destroy the thing he loved the most?

  Ariana told me the story of how she and Elias met. It was about two years ago, back when Elias
was first sent on his assignment to Horr. Ariana had been hired to paint a portrait of the king. Elias, who had been ignored since his arrival, used that chance to bombard the king with questions and speeches and propositions. The king’s portrait turned out to be a look of unrepressed irritation. Ariana was certain she would be thrown in prison for depicting the king with a scowl of annoyance, but the king loved it. Everyone who saw it claimed it was the truest representation of the king they had ever seen. The king was so pleased that he decided he liked Elias.

  “Thank you for trapping the king for me,” were the first words Elias said directly to Ariana. He had wrapped his arm around her waist in a chummy sort of way and said, “You and I make a pretty good team.” According to Ariana, Elias was the kindest, funniest, bravest man she had ever met.

  “I should go,” I said. Though I still had a thousand questions, I couldn’t stand to spend any more time with Ariana. The more we talked, the more I liked her. I knew my sisters would love her, too. Hallie was also an artist. I could just imagine them sketching together for hours.

  But Hallie was dead now. And soon, Ariana would be, too.

  As much as I liked this woman, I had to remember what she had already cost us. Three of my sisters were dead. I had to think of the remaining sisters who still had a chance.

  One life for four. That was more than fair.

  I excused myself and fled. I left the cozy room with the beautiful paintings, hurried down the dark corridor, closed the wall-door behind me, snuck out of the closet, and rushed back to my room, where I stowed the dagger under the mattress and then threw myself onto the bed in angst.

  I had failed. Ariana was still alive, and I was just as doomed as ever. I had wasted my first two nights. The first night I had arrived at the Mejor Estate and identified Ariana as my target. The second night, she caught me off guard by still being awake. Now I had less than twenty-four hours to seal the deal. This next midnight, I would vanish. I was running of time.