The Scarlet Dragon (The Witching World Book 5)

by Lucia Ashta

  “You know, what I don’t understand just as much as what it is about Gustave that’s so unpleasant, is how Grand-mère doesn’t see it. She adores her brother. Yet she’s an intelligent woman and a capable witch from what I’ve seen. How is it that she doesn’t sense what we so easily do?”

  Marcelo set to pacing and running his good hand through his hair again. “That baffles me too.”

  “Could it be that she doesn’t notice it because he’s her brother? A person can be oblivious to the faults of those that are close family,” Brave suggested.

  “Did you see what your father was really like?” I asked him. He nodded. “And I certainly saw what my mother and father were truly like, despite whatever appearances they offered others. I believe Marcelo recognized the true nature of his own father as well.” I looked to him, and he nodded.

  “So if it isn’t that, what could it possibly be?” Brave said, asking no one in particular. Marcelo and I were silent in response.

  “It’s possible that Lady Ariadne may be under some sort of spell. Or something like that,” Sir Lancelot said. “But I can’t be certain. The standard signs of influence by spell are absent.” As I didn’t yet know exactly what those were, I would have to take his word for it and add another thing to learn to my ever-expanding list.

  “Hm,” Marcelo said. “It’s possible, although you’re right, the normal signs that point to a spell controlling someone are absent. How did Mordecai seem when you were down there?”

  “Composed and as gracious to a guest as his temperament permits. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d say that there’s nothing wrong at all.”

  “But you do know him well,” Marcelo prompted.

  “Yes, and for that reason, hoping not to be too presumptuous to assume to know a magician’s thoughts, I’d say that he’s reacting to Lord Gustave precisely as we are. But he’d never let on in front of him.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Marcelo said.

  “Why not? Why wouldn’t he? Shouldn’t one of us stand up to this man?” I asked.

  “First and foremost, Mordecai wouldn’t want to reveal his thoughts and give up any advantage that holding them in secret might offer at this time, or later. It’s much wiser to gather information and plan while protecting your strategic position. Always remember that knowledge is power.”

  I made a mental note to remember.

  “Second, haven’t you noticed how Mordecai looks at your grandmother?”

  “I have.”

  “Well?” Marcelo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in a manner that would have ordinarily been funny, except that I wasn’t certain that I liked what he was suggesting.

  “Well what?”

  “Well, your grandmother has a strong effect over Mordecai from the looks of it. He wouldn’t want to do anything to offend her, especially since she’s so enamored with her brother. If I were to venture an educated guess, I’d say that your grandmother is the greatest reason why Mordecai hasn’t done anything yet.”

  I looked at Marcelo without expression, unsure why his comments about Grand-mère’s female charms affected me.

  “When a man’s heart turns toward a woman, there’s little she does that doesn’t have great effect upon him. And when love for a woman comes to life in a man’s heart,” and now I realized he was no longer speaking about Grand-mère, “there isn’t much that he won’t do for her. His love for her burns as a stronger force than magic itself.”

  I softened, and whatever inexplicable irritation I was experiencing floated away. Seconds passed while Marcelo held my gaze. Heat was beginning to creep up my body when Brave interrupted.

  “So, what’s the plan then?” He looked at us, Sir Lancelot included, and adjusted his question. “Do we have a plan?”

  Marcelo sighed, and I could detect exhaustion and exasperation within the non-stop stream of difficulties trying to escape on his breath. He ran his hand through his already-ruffled black hair. “We don’t have a plan, but we need one. For now, let’s try to do our best to act as normal as we can.” He shot me a look in case I thought to laugh again at our evident lack of normality. But I wasn’t about to.

  “It might be hard, but try to pretend that everything is well and that there are no problems. Remember, we did just return from a trying ordeal, so it won’t be unusual to show signs of some unease as we recover. That will be helpful. If Ariadne notices anything out of the ordinary, you can claim the trauma and stress of our rescue at Washur as your reason. Hopefully, that will be enough to evade suspicion.”

  “That just sounds so uncomfortable,” I said. “To pretend that everything is fine when my supposed great uncle makes my skin crawl.”

  “Are you doubting that Gustave is your great uncle?” Marcelo asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It seems intolerable to think that I’m related to someone like him.”

  There was a pause while we all chewed on that. “Clara, I don’t like pretending, but it’s our only choice. We don’t know what we’re up against yet. To take action before understanding the situation would be a mistake. It’s better not to do anything than to act when circumstances are unclear. If not, errors are easy to make, and in the world of magic, errors can cost you your life.”

  I nodded, letting Marcelo’s warning sink in. He continued. “We’ll dine with the man as if he were our welcome guest, and we’ll visit with him when etiquette makes it necessary. But in the time that’s left to us, we’ll abscond ourselves somewhere to research, discuss our findings, and prepare. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and discover that this man is nothing to fear, that our impressions of him have been erroneous.”

  Marcelo looked around the room, at the doubtful faces. “But if not, we’ll decide what to do, and then we’ll do it. I’ll confer with Mordecai as soon as I have the chance. Of all of us, he’s the most knowledgeable and experienced in the application of magic. In the meantime, we do what we can to keep Gertrude away from Gustave.”

  I startled. I’d been so anxious to see Gertrude’s body restored to her, that even through my apprehension, it hadn’t yet occurred to me that her transformation could be dangerous at the hands of someone we didn’t trust. “How do we do that? Grand-mère asked Gustave to join us specifically to transform Gertrude, claiming him to be an expert in transformations.”

  “We’ll find the way. Start thinking of excuses now so that you have them at the ready when they are needed.

  “And Sir Lancelot, keep working on the problem. Sort through the stores of information you keep. See if something jumps out at you, something that explains Gustave.”

  “Yes, of course, Lord Bundry,” Sir Lancelot said, the little capable soldier once more, focused on the task at hand.

  “It’s not a great plan, but it’s something. I hope that it will be enough to get us through this until we are better able to understand what’s going on. And we’d better do it soon. Carlton is still missing, and I can’t let much more time pass without going to search for him again.”

  I expected Marcelo to turn his focus on rescuing Carlton as soon as he returned from the sleep of darkness and now, despite the little time he had for recovery and a serious injury not under control, he was ready to resume his search. But he couldn’t leave the inhabitants of the castle in danger to do it. Gustave was an unwelcome distraction from something urgent that Marcelo had already been forced to postpone for longer than he wanted.

  Marcelo looked to Brave and me. “You both know what to do?” We nodded. He addressed Sylvia and Mathieu, whom had not been part of the conversation. “You two will please continue to focus on Sylvia’s recuperation. Behave as if nothing were out of the ordinary.” Neither of the firedrakes did anything to acknowledge Marcelo’s instruction, yet it was clear that they both had. There was resolve in their expressions, even in Sylvia’s.

  “All right.” Marcelo breathed in, adjusted his sweater over his limp arm, and went to the door. “Clara and Brave, come with me. We’ll rejoin Ariadne, Gustave, and Mor
decai in the parlor claiming that Brave is feeling better, just well enough to pay his respects to the guest. We’ll not remain long. Brave will assert the need for repose, and Clara and I will go with him to assist. We’ll go to my study and see what, if anything, we can find to guide us in this situation. It’s unlikely that Mordecai will be able to get away until later.

  “Clara, leave Gertrude here. We don’t want to remind Ariadne or Gustave of her need for transformation unnecessarily. Sir Lancelot, will you stay here and keep guard over Gertrude, Sylvia, and Mathieu?” I was pretty sure that Sylvia, even in her recovery, could fend for herself, and Mathieu certainly could, but Sir Lancelot was proud to take on the duty.

  “I’m honored to be of service, Lord Bundry,” said the owl, suddenly seeming taller.

  I hugged Gertrude to me, nervous to separate from her under the circumstances. But Marcelo was right. The less she was around Gustave, the better. I set her down on the windowsill next to the owl. “Please take good care of her, Sir Lancelot.”

  “I’ll guard her with my life,” he said, and I smiled at such an endearing response from a creature that was under a foot tall.

  “Thank you,” I said. I kissed Gertrude’s furry head and went to the door, where I followed Marcelo and Brave out. As soon as I crossed the threshold, my steps grew leaden. There were too few of them between us and the parlor. I lagged behind the two men, who were also walking slower than they usually did.

  Chapter 26

  Grand-mère’s celebratory laughter wound up the stairs to meet us halfway. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if we could all be mistaken. Perchance Gustave wasn’t what we were making him out to be. Maybe it was just the initial awkwardness of meeting a complete stranger that was supposed to be more than that. He was of my blood, yet we’d never met before.

  Encouraged, my steps lightened, and I focused on the pleasing sound of Grand-mère’s laughter. After what we’d been through the last several days, really, the odds should actually be in favor of a peaceful reunion with my great uncle.

  Life was nothing if not a cycle of ups and downs. There were peaks and valleys, and always a pervading attempt by life itself to return to balance. When you got lucky—or it might have been more than chance—the peaks and valleys were neither too high nor too low. The events that interrupted the usual flow of life were less substantial and less disruptive; balance was gained easily. Under this logic, the rescue attempt at Washur Castle and the many injuries our group received there should have been a clear valley, and now we were due the peak and its attendant ease.

  I entered the parlor immediately behind Marcelo, hopeful, and wishing that I could share my theories of our likely overreactions with Marcelo and Brave. Preconceptions affected how a situation unraveled. If we looked for the worst in a situation, we were more likely to find it. And its opposite was also true. I was in the midst of trying to send my companions mental messages alerting them to this positive outlook, when I felt something upon me.

  Against all my instincts, I didn’t immediately search out the source of my sudden discomfort. Instead, I felt into it, curious. I recognized the feeling as familiar. I had experienced this particular type of unease before. Yet where? And when? I couldn’t place it.

  Revulsion rose within me, without my awareness of its source. Then came the pinpricks. I’d fallen under someone’s dissecting scrutiny.

  With an inevitable sadness, I looked up and into the fish-like eyes of my great uncle. I knew it was his gaze that I’d meet. It was he who wanted to tear me apart.

  Whatever reason this Gustave had for despising me, it was evident that he did. Marcelo hackled next to me in my defense. It was a slight shift in his energy, but I still couldn’t believe that Grand-mère couldn’t sense all that was going on around her.

  Whoever Lord Gustave of the House of Acquaine was, he’d declared himself my enemy. And all I knew was that I didn’t want any more of those.

  “There you are,” Grand-mère exclaimed, ignoring the conversation that was already taking place under her very nose. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back. Have we not, Gustave?”

  He didn’t take his eyes from mine, and as he spoke, I was left wondering, What on earth could he possibly have against me?

  “Oh yes, we have.”

  “There you have it, my darlings. Your great uncle has been anxiously waiting to get to know you better.”

  “I bet he has,” Marcelo said with unusual abandon. I shot him a warning look. He’d need to simmer down his anger and conceal his desire to protect me if we were to carry out the plan he’d outlined upstairs.

  He angled his body slightly between Gustave’s line of sight and me. His message was clear to everyone in that room except for the one that might possess some of the answers we needed.

  “How are you feeling, Brave? Has the illness passed so that you can join us for dinner? We’re so looking forward to dining together. There’s so much for us to talk about, now that we’re together. Isn’t that right, Gustave?”

  “Yes, it is.” His dead eyes pinned Marcelo and me. Silence punctuated the conversation.

  “Well? Brave? Are you better?” she asked.

  “I’m somewhat better. Enough to come down to pay my respects to our guest.”

  “Oh, but Gustave isn’t a guest. Not really. He’s family.”

  Brave continued as if Grand-mère hadn’t said anything. “But I’m still not fully well, and will soon have to beg pardon to go rest.” At least one of us was sticking to the plan, though Brave’s gaze was murderous. Now that he’d begun to digest what it meant to be reunited with his uncle, he didn’t take kindly to any threat toward him, or by extension, to me.

  “Well, of course you must rest if you are unwell, although I hope you won’t have to miss much. Gustave’s company is such a treat.”

  “I’m certain that Lord Gustave’s company is quite something indeed,” Brave said, appeasing Grand-mère and forcing me to struggle to keep a smile from my face.

  “Sit now then, Brave. You shouldn’t wear yourself out unnecessarily,” Grand-mère said. Brave took the seat farthest away from Gustave.

  “And you, Clara? What’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Sit, ma chérie. Marcelo. Sit, darling. You’re behaving most strangely.” Grand-mère laughed nervously. It was the first sign that she might be noticing that things were not as they seemed, and it was enough to propel Marcelo and I into following the plan we’d agreed upon.

  Marcelo and I sat next to each other, facing Gustave, and Marcelo’s watchful gaze ventured away from those beady eyes only to search out his mentor’s. Mordecai was much better at carrying out the illusion of comfort than we were, but the signs of his concern were evident in nearly imperceptible ways, now that I knew him well enough to identify them.

  His shoulders were tensed to an inch higher than they normally fell, and his back was as straight as a rod. His eyes traveled over to where Gustave sat more often than social convention dictated necessary.

  Whether or not Gustave noticed that his ruse was up, I couldn’t tell. Yet he might know. It was possible; our act was imperfect. But if you might imagine that being discovered by at least four capable magicians would make a normal magician nervous, then that would mean that whoever Gustave was, he wasn’t normal. Under his oiled bald pate, ruddy complexion, and unresponsive eyes, he was cool as a shark, who knew he outmatched his prey.

  Suddenly, I wondered if I should be frightened. I reached out to squeeze Marcelo’s hand for reassurance under the guise of affection. He squeezed back and helped me remember what I’d long known, fear wasn’t a useful emotion. It negated faith in a good outcome. Fear could paralyze the mind and the heart.

  I reined myself in, withdrawing from fear.

  I steeled my resolve. “How were your travels, great uncle?”

  A flicker of mirth flitted across his face before he answered. “They were quite acceptable. Thank you for inquiring, great niece.”

  “Where d
id you travel from?”

  “I want to know that too, Gustave. Your adventures are always so interesting and exciting,” Grand-mère said.

  Gustave smiled at Grand-mère’s ebullience in an obligatory fashion. “I’m pleased to know that you find my adventures exciting. However, I think it’s best if I keep the details of this particular adventure to myself.”

  Grand-mère was visibly affronted. “You worked with dragons and you don’t want to share the details of your work with me?” Her voice grew quieter, as if finally she were feeling the disturbance that circulated in the air. “You always share your experiences with dragons with me. You’ve done so since we were children and discovered we share a unique gift.” She spoke as if she’d forgotten that we were in the room. Her words implied a wounding.

  Just as I had minutes before, it seemed that Gustave too realized that he had an act to carry on. “Sister, it isn’t that I don’t wish to share the specifics with you. As you say, I always have. And I always will. However, the details of this particular adventure are quite sensitive, and I don’t think it prudent to share them in company I am as of yet unfamiliar with.”

  “This company is your family, Gustave. You shouldn’t be so guarded among family.”

  Gustave was immutable.

  “Very well. You and I shall have the opportunity to discuss it in private soon.” There was a subtle threat to her tone, and I questioned whether the Grand-mère I knew might not be more aware than she let on. “In the meantime,” she continued, “I believe there might be just enough time to visit Humbert on the roof before dinner. Surely you won’t turn down a real live dragon when there is one so near?”

  Marcelo, Brave, Mordecai, and I observed the interaction between sister and brother with great interest, as if it were a defining lawn tennis match, and the players weren’t yet nearing the end of the game, but were nonetheless coming upon a juncture that could tilt the victory of the match toward one player.