By the end of the dinner, the table cloth was soaked and singed from Tyson and Ari lighting and then dousing the candles, Calla was practically sitting in Bryan’s lap, and poor, overtaxed Rose was desperately trying to not fall asleep.
Beth endeavored to say as little as possible to Finn, beyond any polite niceties, though he’d chosen to sit beside her. He seemed actually interested in the political pontification led by her great-uncle Dougal that dominated the evening chatter. A few times, she caught him looking at his twin like he might be embarrassed by her flirty behavior with Bryan, but he remained silent on the subject.
When Rose curled up half in her own chair and half in Beth’s lap, she allowed herself to slump back as well, even though she hadn’t yet made it through her second serving of pudding. She ran her fingers through Rose’s lovely curls, which had flattened as the evening grew long and late but still held on at the ends.
“So you don’t hate everyone, then?” Finn asked. He leaned in to speak to her, though he watched her hands rather than her face.
“I don’t hate anyone, actually,” she replied coolly.
“Good to know.”
Beth was pretty sure Ari was also asleep on the table, seeing as she had her face buried in her arms. Her sister’s long, dark lashes hooded her ocean-blue eyes. Ari sleeping when Tyson was still awake was never a good idea, though, as it left her brother and his firebug tendencies unchecked. Tyson had just grabbed what remained of Beth’s pudding, though, so that would probably keep him occupied for a moment or two.
Beth knew she should ask for all of them to be excused so that the younger siblings could get to bed, but Bryan usually took care of that sort of formal request. However, a quick glance across the round table confirmed he wasn’t going anywhere or making any decisions that didn’t involve Calla. Finn caught her look and rolled his eyes in his sister’s direction. Calla didn’t notice.
“It’s his gift,” Beth murmured, feeling obligated to justify the couple’s behavior. She wondered briefly if Calla also had some gift that held Bryan so enraptured.
“I don’t find myself compelled to sit on him,” Finn whispered back.
“Just wait until he actually pays attention to you.”
“I still really don’t think that snuggling will be the result.”
Beth laughed quietly despite herself, and when Finn looked surprised, she decided she also might be overly tired. She never relaxed around strangers. She barely relaxed around her family. Relaxing meant not constantly worrying about something nasty sneaking up on her, or something happening she couldn’t immediately control. Not that any of that had ever happened to her yet, but she’d be ready for it when it did. Given Finn’s warrior status — seeing as he was in the Elite Guard he had to be a wielder of some power — she was amazed she could relax around him, tired or not. The constant energy of warriors usually kept her on edge.
She glanced over to the head table. Theo was flanked by Hugh and her grandmother, and seemed occupied by Rhea. The Apex had her back turned to Dougal, who was sermonizing to the group at large. Hugh was laughing at something Peony had just said. Then they both leaned to look at a book that Ren was holding. Beth would have to call attention to herself to talk to her parents, and she certainly wasn’t excited about doing that.
She shook Rose lightly. “Come on, Rose. I’ll get you to bed.” Rose murmured and snuggled further into her lap. “Rose, I can’t carry you.”
Tyson started snapping his fingers at his glass of water the way he did when he was having trouble setting something ablaze. Beth reached over Rose and shoved him.
“Tyson! That’s enough,” she hissed. “Wake up Ari. We’re going to bed.”
Calla pealed out another round of laughter and placed her hand on Bryan’s arm. Beth ground her teeth in defense against the sound, but managed to not launch herself across the table and strangle the pretty girl.
“I can help you carry her,” Finn offered.
“Absolutely not!” Beth snapped. Perhaps harsher than necessary, but still, how would that look to everyone?
“Fine,” Finn responded without heat. “Just trying to be helpful.”
“Tyson, kneel here.” She coaxed Tyson into kneeling by Rose, and then rolled the girl over until Tyson could lift her into a piggyback. Tyson then leaned over to swat Ari on the back of the head, his sister all but falling out of her chair as she jerked awake.
This snagged Bryan’s attention. Beth ignored him, still peeved he hadn’t taken care of all this by himself as he normally did. She rose from her chair and turned toward the head table.
“We bid you goodnight,” she called as loudly as she dared, and was happy her voice didn’t shake. She realized belatedly that she was twisting her napkin in her hands, letting it fall to the floor as all eyes — or at least all eyes attached to anyone who had heard her — turned toward her. She knew most of the courtiers and nobles seated closest to them, but even their indulgent smiles didn’t help with her comfort level. She kept the strangers seated beyond these familiar faces blurred in her peripheral vision as she looked expectantly at her adoptive parents, and tried to not project pleading thoughts.
Theo rose from her chair, smiling but formal. “Sleep well, then, darlings. It is a big day for Rose tomorrow.”
The guests raised their glasses in a chorus of, “To Rose,” but the young girl didn’t stir on Tyson’s back.
Beth curtsied and Ari mimicked her. Tyson, awkward with Rose on his back, bowed toward Theo and the head table. Behind Beth, Bryan and Calla sounded like they were scrambling to their feet.
With nods from her adoptive parents, Beth considered them all dismissed. She turned to lead her siblings from the converted dining hall. She didn’t bother to look back to see if Bryan followed. It was his own business if he chose to stay … but still, the unwanted responsibility irked her just a little. It had nothing to do with the fact that he chose Calla over his duty as oldest sibling. Absolutely nothing at all.
∞
After she got Rose settled for the night Beth left Tyson and Ari, who refused to be put to bed like little children, to their own mischief. Then she set out to create some mischief herself. She never did need much sleep, often feeling energized by only a couple of hours rest. With all the adults still attached to their wine glasses in the ballroom, it was the perfect time to sneak about.
Beth liked sneaking.
As she slipped from shadow to shadow along the castle halls, she could feel the tension she’d carried throughout the day — so full of so many people — slip away. As always, she ignored the paintings, tapestries, and statuary that lined the corridors. The Hollyburn collection spanned hundreds of years and supposedly even contained artwork salvaged from the Vanquished, who had walked, and tried to destroy, the world before the rise of Spirit. But Beth had no interest in such things. If quizzed, she wouldn’t have been able to firmly identify a single piece. She did however adore the shadows that the lights in the recessed niches created.
She didn’t bother with the common areas of the castle, such as the kitchens or tower, which was the one place Theo had asked her to not compromise the wards. Not that they were certain that was what Beth did when she opened something firmly locked, but Theo felt that the items placed in the tower for safe keeping shouldn’t be risked on a whim.
Such a warning would usually draw her like a moth to Tyson’s flames. However, Theo had offered to show her the room at the top of the tower, and Beth, already bored if there was no challenge, declined.
She headed toward the east wing where her grandmother resided when she stayed at Hollyburn every summer. Rhea’s wards were always interesting. Sure, Beth was smart enough to know it was all a game contrived by Theo to poke at her mother. Actually, most of the immediate family seemed to have fun trying to devise locks to keep Beth out. But with her grandmother, it was more training than a game. The Apex’s only acknowledgement of all the times Beth managed to slip by her wards was more intricate spells and
locks the next time she visited.
It was an unspoken challenge.
Tonight, though, she decided that she would seek out Dougal’s locks first. Her great-uncle didn’t visit as often, but he was notoriously paranoid about safety, often going so far as to post guards even though Hollyburn’s wards had never been compromised. So breaking into his room should be fun. Not that Beth ever broke anything when she opened locks; they just seemed to give in to her. The halls were actually emptier than normal, which lessened her usual joy in slipping by people unseen. The servants were most likely enjoying their own celebration in the kitchens, and the guards, though undoubtedly doubled with this many nobles in one place, were patrolling the outside walls. A little earlier or later, she might have run into a few of them on rounds.
She held her hand just under the door latch to her great-uncle’s suites and paused for a deep breath. This moment was almost sacred for her, the one before she turned the lock, before she grappled with whatever protections it held. The breath before she exercised her power always brought her peace. Opening the lock was just a function, a reconfirmation that she had some significance, no matter how small it might seem in comparison to the gifts of her siblings and adoptive parents.
Cascadia was populated by many mind mages, magic wielders, and magical beings, some more powerful than others. But no one — or at least no one documented — had her natural gift. A spellcaster, someone who could cast magic, could craft an unlock spell, but each spell would have to be customized to each lock. That took time and supplies. She just turned a handle or lifted a lid. All the Spirit Bound had powers beyond the scope of regular magic users.
Beth inhaled, held her breath, and closed her hand over the latch.
She exhaled, visualizing the door opening, then twisted the handle.
She felt a tiny moment of resistance, enough to tell her that the door was indeed warded, though she wasn’t sure how. She simply slipped around this little impediment, and the handle completed its turn.
The door opened just an inch, but it was enough to make her grin with satisfaction.
She closed the door, felt the lock click back into place, and turned to head for her grandmother’s rooms.
“So that’s what you do.”
As she had in the courtyard, Beth jumped as she whirled around, though she quashed the accompanying shriek so effectively that it actually stuck in her throat.
Finn was leaning against the opposite wall, from which he would have had a perfect view of her fiddling with her great-uncle’s door. He didn’t look all that impressed.
Beth hoped he couldn’t hear her pounding heart as she covered it quickly with a sneered, “You try.”
Finn shrugged. “I already did. It was heavily warded. Gave me a bit of a burn.” He looked down at his unmarked left hand. She wondered if he healed quickly, or if it hadn’t been that kind of burn. “But that’s all you do? What’s the point?”
“You practice … whatever you practice, don’t you?” Talking about how Spirit had gifted a person wasn’t actually an acceptable dark-hallway, after-midnight conversation. Though, coming from the Midlands, she had no idea if Finn even knew that, or held the same beliefs, or even had the same upbringing as she had.
Finn pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them. Beth had to stop herself from stepping back. Just for a moment, she felt that he might be following her. Like it was a game for him. Though why he would choose to stalk her, she had no idea.
“I’m a wielder,” he said. “So yes, I practice, though I don’t sneak about while I do so.”
For Finn to call himself a wielder could mean anything, really. The ability to wield wasn’t confined to one classification of magic. Spellcasters could be said to wield magic, when they create a spell or a charm, but this use was usually referred to as casting. By wielder, Finn meant that he had gifts normally found in warriors or guards, some combination of strength, speed, or invulnerability. Except he was also Spirit Bound. And, in the case of Beth and her siblings, their Spirit Bound powers were unusual and unique. They hadn’t even known how to classify Beth, and they’d created new classifications for Tyson, Ari, and Rose. They were elementals. No one else was called Spirit Tamer but Bryan. Such magic hadn’t existed before the Spirit Binder inadvertently created the Spirit Bound when she brought Ren back to life during the Aerie Rising. So, by calling himself simply a wielder, Finn had to be generalizing.
Beth glared at him. Who was he to stalk her and ask personal questions, yet not disclose the very information he seemed to seek? She decided he wasn’t worth her time. She spun away, making her way through the guest wing, toward her grandmother’s rooms.
Except she found it difficult to be stealthy with someone following her. Moving from shadow to shadow, which was part of the ritual for her, would look pretty stupid with Finn watching her. That didn’t improve her mood, and she wondered how rude she’d have to be to get rid of him, and if she was prepared to accept the parental chastising that would likely result.
“There was another ward just inside the door, wasn’t there?” Finn asked.
Beth kept her back stiff and didn’t even turn her head or slow her pace to answer him. “So?”
“So why didn’t you try to get through that?”
“Not the point.”
“Which brings me back to my first question.”
“Why are you following me?”
“Why are you leading me?”
She stopped in her tracks and whirled around at this accusation. “I am not leading you!”
Finn just smiled at her indignation, like that had been his goal all along.
He was impossible, she decided. Even the way he looked in the low light of the hall was impossible. No one, no human, looked like that. On Calla, those looks were soft and pretty — the almost-white hair and eerily green eyes — but on Finn, there was something otherworldly about his coloring. It didn’t match, didn’t work over his lanky, muscled frame. It didn’t fit his stubborn, determined personality or the fact that he was a wielder.
He dropped his eyes and his grin, and she realized she’d just been glaring at him. Not staring, but glaring. She wasn’t stupid enough to just stand in the middle of a dark corridor and stare at someone like he was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured without looking at her. “We knew about you all, but obviously I’ve never met another of the Spirit Bound before.”
“My siblings are much more remarkable than I.”
That brought his doubt-filled eyes back up to hers. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”
Beth huffed and stumbled over some retort. Had he just complimented her in some way? “What’s your game? Do you have something you want me to open for you?”
“I suppose that would legitimize my behavior.”
“Well? What is it?”
“I … ah, nothing. That’s … I don’t have anything for you to open.” Finn crunched his overly perfect features into a grimace; something Beth wouldn’t have thought possible for his face before. He seemed … awkward.
“I’m going to bed,” she said.
“Oh. I thought you might have more locks to test. What about my parents’ suite?”
Beth’s mind was suddenly racing. Finn’s father was the Captain of the Cascadian Guards … that might be interesting. No — what was she thinking? She didn’t even know this person. She wasn’t going to display herself for his amusement.
“No.”
“Oh. Right. Just, you looked so happy when you opened Uncle Dougal’s —”
“My happiness is none of your concern.”
“I suppose it isn’t.”
They stared at each other for a few moments, and Beth wondered what he saw when he looked at her … someone who was his complete opposite? All black to his white, with her dark hair and gray cat eyes. Then she reminded herself that she didn’t even remotely care what he saw or thought, and she broke his gaze to step past him.<
br />
Finn angled his body to allow her to head back down the hall the way she’d come.
When she reached the nearest intersection, she glanced back to see Finn standing outside another door — probably the one to his room — and watching her.
He grinned and held his hand up at her look. A little disbelievingly, Beth returned the smile, just a little, just for a second or so.
Then she stepped into the shadows and practically ran to her rooms.
CHAPTER THREE
Rose screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed again.
Beth bolted out of bed, a surge of adrenaline practically flinging her across the room and into the hallway. Her door smashed into the stone wall, probably denting the wood. Beth, not yet fully awake, stood in the middle of the corridor, not quite sure how she’d gotten there. The light through the window at the end of the corridor was bright, but not high. It was mid-morning.
Hadn’t someone been screaming?
She padded across the stone floor, which was freezing underneath her bare feet — she was going to have to start wearing socks to bed — and knocked on Rose’s bedroom door.
No answer.
She opened the door; it wasn’t locked, not that it mattered for her.
Rose’s room was empty, the bed already made. Beth had a habit of sleeping away the morning, due to her late night prowling, and this morning was obviously no different.
But she could have sworn she’d heard screaming.
Beth quickly crossed back to her room and threw on some clothing — pants and one of Hugh’s old sweaters — under and over her nightgown.
Where would Rose be right now? Ah, yes! At her prophecy reading.
Beth tucked her pants into a pair of calf-high boots and hustled back into the still-empty corridor. The readings — her reading — had taken place in the library. So, with the screams still echoing through her mind, that’s where she headed.
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