“They should bring my dinner to the second floor,” Rucifee complained, not bothering to say hello. “Really, did they have to add so many stairs?” I agreed with him, but I did not say so. I would have offered to carry him, but cats usually spurned offers of help unless it was their idea.
“Rucifee, do you know Cate?”
“Of course I know Cate. I have been going up and down these stairs for ten years, haven't I? Pick me up and carry me.”
Now that he had demanded my assistance, I scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way down the staircase. “Do you know if Cate has a lover?” I persisted, bending to put Rucifee down.
“No, don't put me down! You might as well carry me the rest of the way to the kitchen. And how should I know if she has a lover or not?”
“I thought you had been here for ten years and knew everything,” I said, a little annoyed.
“Go ask Jessith. I can't be bothered about servants while I'm still waiting for my dinner.” Only slightly irritated, I took Rucifee the rest of the way to the kitchen and went in search of Jessith.
I found her chasing a beam of sunlight in one of the upstairs rooms. She was willing to talk to me, but her answers were too cryptic to be of much practical use. “It takes a wicked person to leave wicked bruises, doesn't it?” she purred when I asked if Cate had a lover among the groomsmen or servants.
“How did you know what I was really trying to find out? Was I too obvious?”
“No. Everyone else is just stupid.” Jessith yawned, her eyes following a fly as it wove about drunkenly outside my bedroom window.
“Mam put her guard up when I asked about Cate. Something feels wrong about this.”
“I suggest that you broaden your search and keep your eyes open.”
“I have been watching for anything suspicious,” I said, a little defensively.
“Humans can never watch closely enough. They miss more than they think.”
I decided that flattery might be a more effective tactic to find the answers I needed. “Rucifee had no idea what was going on. He told me to ask you, since you notice everything that happens in Baxstresse.”
“Don't try and flatter me, silly girl. Rucifee hates me almost as much as I hate him. His Highness would rather die than give me a compliment.”
I tried to pull more information out of her, but Jessith was content to sit on my lap and bask in adoration as I scratched her chin and fluffed the fur of her white chest. Soon she was asleep, and I was no closer to finding answers than when I had started.
CHAPTER 5
ONE NIGHT, BELLADONNA joined me as I watched the sky beneath my young tree. “The stars are higher here,” I whispered as she spread her skirts next to me and rested her head on the dark grass. “And the ones on the horizon are new to me.”
“You are not in the southwest anymore. That group of them just touching the land is Feradith, the dragon.” I squinted my eyes, trying to make out the shape of a wing or tail. Belladonna lifted her hand and drew an outline so I could see the dragon's head and three horns. “There is a story about her from Amendyr.”
“Please.” I turned my head, resting my cheek on my hair. “Tell me.”
“Once, a long time ago, there was a horrible drought in Amendyr. Nothing would grow and no one could figure out why. Finally, the king's seer discovered that the drought was being caused by a dragon.”
“Is it true that magic is feared less in Amendyr?” I had heard as much, but I was sure that the well-read Belladonna would be able to answer more of my questions about the place. Amendyr had always interested me.
“Yes. In Amendyr, magic is respected. Ariada is an honored title, not a term of hate.” I shuddered at the word, even though it was not being used hurtfully. I had thought it to myself, perhaps to take the sting out of it, but hearing it on another person's lips instinctively made me uncomfortable. “Their capital, Kalmarin, is more magical than Ronin twice over. At least, it was...” Belladonna's smile disappeared, and her eyelids fluttered against a small breeze. “Now that Amendyr has stopped trading news and goods with Seria, no one really knows what is happening across the Rengast.”
We lost ourselves in thought for a moment, remembering frightened whispers and concerned faces leaning across tables. For over a year, the dark rumors about what was happening in Amendyr had been trickling in to Seria. No one knew how many were true.
After a short silence, Belladonna continued her story. “The dragons usually kept themselves apart from men in those days, before all of them disappeared.” Dragons, like manticores, had not been seen in centuries, but there was no doubt they had once existed. There were very detailed writings on them, and they had played a major role in Amendyrri and Serian history.
“This particular dragon, Feradith, had a grievance. The King's mages had killed her hatchling. Feradith did not know how it had died, she just felt its magic go out.” Belladonna turned away from me and looked at the stars that made up Feradith's body.
“Why did the King's sorcerers kill the hatchling?”
“To drain its magic. When they tried, some of the mages died. There was too much power for all of them to hold.”
I was amazed. I had read of draining magic from people in historical accounts, but never from something as powerful and dangerous as a dragon. Dragons did not just control the bright energy of magic like humans did. They were made of it. Using the energy made us weak, and each of us had our own special ways of channeling it, but a dragon's very essence was said to be magical. Without it, they would not exist at all. “Why would they need that much power?”
“I have no idea. Maybe they were greedy.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, listening to the night sounds around us. “Are you going to tell me the rest of the story?” I asked after a moment.
“The king's son, Alharin, heard about what the mages had done. He went to offer his life to the dragon. Alharin told Feradith what had happened to her hatchling, and in gratitude, she refused to take his life as forfeit and lifted the drought.”
“So Feradith just stopped the drought?”
“Not quite,” Belladonna said. “Feradith did not forgive, she just redirected her rage. Instead of punishing the entire kingdom, she ate the mages. She took little joy in punishing innocents. At least she was fair.”
Once the story was over, Belladonna and I stayed stretched out on the dry grass, content with silence. My next memory was of waking up, startled, because I could not recall falling asleep. Belladonna was gone.
***
As Belle and I spent more time together, I began to notice strange things about her sister. Luciana seemed to have some sort of hold over large groups that I could not understand. Only Belladonna, the servants, and I were unaffected. Occasionally, a noble would come to visit, perhaps to court her, perhaps to do business with Lady Kingsclere or my father. Whenever Baxstresse had guests, all of them were enthralled.
Sometimes Luciana wore her red dress at dinner. She smiled and laughed, and her skin glowed. Her eyes held a strange light I could not understand. This same light became a dazzling beacon whenever Lady Kingsclere or my father paid attention to her. Luciana's mother adored her, showering her with affection and praise that contrasted completely with her personality. Her affection toward Belladonna was more serious, although I could tell it was still strong.
Once, while I was exploring one of the many unlearned hallways at Baxstresse, I found Luciana staring out of a window. The room was open and airy, mostly decorative, and it was not used often. I stood just outside of the door, looking in at her from a distance so she would not notice me watching. She turned a little, and I saw a flash of metal in her hand as the sunlight caught it. She stared down at her palm, rich brown hair breaking across her shoulders as her chin dipped to kiss her chest. She whispered something, but I could only see her lips move.
I leaned forward, trying to snatch a look at the thing she held in her hand. I just managed to make out a few links of gold b
efore she turned back fully to the window, watching the darkening sky. She was holding some kind of chain. Silently, I backed away from the door and hurried down the hall, hoping Luciana would stay in the room until I turned a corner. Once I was on the main floor, I relaxed. Catching Luciana in an unguarded moment had been strange. Her light was gone, and the familiar unease that I normally felt around her had not been present. There was only the tightness of my stomach as I watched, hoping I would not be caught.
***
I was settled peacefully in a library armchair with Jessith on my knees when I heard the scream. It was a grating, broken sound, the sound of a woman's sanity snapping. My entire body jerked upright, and my nails dug into the loose skin on the back of Jessith's neck. She leapt off of my lap, hissing and arching her back. “That hurt,” she yowled, glaring at me. “If you had been anyone else, I would have bitten you.”
“Sorry...it was an accident, Jess,” I mumbled, raising my chin to listen. All I could hear was the sound of my own loud breathing. Once I realized that no other screams were coming from downstairs, I looked back down at the unsettled cat. “Did you hear that? Did I imagine it?”
“Of course I heard it. Stop asking stupid questions and get up to see what's going on.”
I ignored Jessith's bad mood and scooped her into my arms, tucking her against my chest as I dodged between bookshelves, trying to remember which direction the scream had come from. In my hurry, I nearly stumbled over poor old Trugel, who was sleeping in her usual spot by the fireplace. She hardly stirred, only opening her eyes long enough to glare after me as I ran from the room.
Jessith directed me, putting aside her anger in order to satisfy her curiosity. “Quick, left here. There's a door on this side. No! That's your right, you silly girl. I said left! Here, down this hall...”
With Jessith to guide me, I stumbled my way to the second floor's main hallway, which was lined with stained glass windows. “It came from the entrance hall,” Jessith said, the usual dry, bored sarcasm gone from her voice. I couldn't remember her being this interested in anything since I had arrived at Baxstresse. Still clutching Jessith, I catapulted down the large stone steps three at a time in a very unladylike way, rushing to join the crowd that was gathering in the great entrance hall.
One of my father's men was standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by curious onlookers. Cate and Sarah were among them, helping to support his weight. His fine coat and breeches were torn and soaked through with rain. There was blood streaked across his forehead. Lady Kingsclere lay crumpled at his feet, her fine skirts spreading about her limp body. The pallor of her face was a sickly yellow-green that glowed eerily under the light from the chandelier.
Belladonna knelt beside my stepmother, clasping her hand and whispering something in her ear. I noticed that her entire body was trembling. Lady Kingsclere did not respond. She remained completely still, all of the spirit drained from her body. Luciana imitated her sister and bent down at her other side. Someone rested a steadying hand on my shoulder and I turned to see Mam staring down at me. “Come away, child,” she said, gently urging me back up the stairs. “You shouldn't be about now.”
“But—”
“Hush,” Mam said firmly.
“Put me down if you are going,” Jessith said, wriggling to free herself from my arms. “I want to stay.” I dropped Jessith to the floor and allowed Mam to pull me back up the stairs by the wrist, tripping along behind her like a limp rag doll. Only my shock prevented me from protesting. The sight of Lady Kingsclere and her daughters kneeling on the floor lingered in my mind as Mam dragged me past the library and Belladonna's room. We stopped at my room, and Mam sat me down on the bed.
“How long were you down there, Miss Ellie?” Mam asked, the sternness gone from her voice.
“Only a few moments.” I reached out to stroke Jessith, only remembering that she was still downstairs when my hand touched the bedsheets. I wished she had come back upstairs with me. Something awful had happened, and I wanted her nearby. “Was that one of my father's men downstairs? What happened to Lady Kingsclere? Should someone—”
“Hush,” Mam insisted. “Jamison and her daughters will be seeing to her.”
“Will she be all right?”
The lines in Mam's tired face seemed to grow deeper. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Lord only knows, I'm hoping so...” I shifted uncomfortably on the quilts, thinking about the rumors I had heard. People still gossiped about how Lady Kingsclere had been mad for five years after the death of her first husband...the death of her husband...my father...the man bleeding downstairs. The thoughts collided in my head.
“Mam, where is my father?”
I read the answer in Mam's silence. She put her hand on my arm, but I shook it off. After my mother died, people were always touching me, whispering to me, trying to make me feel better. I did not want anyone's pity, even Mam's.
“Why should I care if he's dead?” I said bitterly, pressing my lips together. “I knew he would die one of these days, wandering off after his horrid treasures...he didn't care about the thieves on the road, he didn't care that he was leaving us behind. His own greed killed him. It was his fault.”
I looked up at Mam again, anticipating an expression of pity, shock, or anger on her face. Instead, fear was written there. But what did Mam have to be afraid of? “Miss Ellie...”
“How did he die? Tell me.”
“Ellie...”
“Tell me.”
“Servants know everything that goes on in a house like this. The buyer in Ronin, he didn't want records or witnesses, I was hearing your father say the other day. Had the stagecoach set upon and lit up in flames. That man downstairs only just got away with his life.” Mam glanced toward the door once, checking to make sure it was closed, and leaned in, holding both of my shoulders. “But he—”
“But he wanted the money. He knew there might be danger, but he could never resist the money.” My eyes stung and I threw my arms into the air, pointing around the room. “He has all this, and he went anyway. He has a title, a manor, a wife, daughters...Why did he go? He was one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom, but he always wanted more!” I almost dissolved into tears then, but I held them back with the last of my strength. Only my bitter pride dammed them up.
“If you're going to cry for your father, do it now. You won't be having much time to grieve, if I'm right about this household.”
“I will not cry,” I said, still feeling hurt and rebellious.
“Then don't cry, but you'll be dropping that tone before anyone else hears it if you want to avoid trouble.” Something in her voice caught at me, but I brushed the feelings of fear and apprehension aside.
“I would like to be alone, please,” I said, carefully removing the quaver from my voice.
Mam picked her heavy body up and walked toward the door, turning back to look at me over her shoulder. “If anything else happens, come down to the kitchen and find me. I'll be taking care of you.”
I did not answer, and Mam slipped out of the room, holding the door open long enough to let Jessith in. The cat leapt onto the bed, making soft paw dents in the quilt as she padded over to me. I fell back onto the bed and Jessith curled up on my chest, purring loudly as I scratched her ears. She did not say anything. Cats know that a warm body is more comforting than a thousand condolences.
I fell asleep to the sound of Jessith's light, steady breathing, my hand still resting on her head.
CHAPTER 6
THE FIRST THING I knew the next morning was cold. Someone I could not see had ripped open my warm cocoon of covers, and I threw my arms around myself, squinting up through the dark. The person above me dragged me from the mattress, and my feet burned as they slapped against cold stone.
I tried to scream, but fingers covered my mouth. They did not pull away when I bit down, but I could hear my attacker spit a muffled curse. “Let her scream,” said a voice I recognized from several feet away. “No one will interfer
e with you.”
“No one would dare.” Luciana removed her hand and I gasped for air, choked up with fear. “I should have you beaten for this,” she whispered, her perfect lips pulling back in a feral grin as she held up her red hand. I had not broken skin, but there were purple indents in her fingers.
“You would like that too much,” said Belladonna, the other voice from farther away. “Will you let yourself be controlled so easily?” I did not understand what Belladonna meant then, but it became clear later why Luciana tossed me to the floor, bruising my knees and skinning my elbows.
The thought that I needed to do something crossed my mind more than once, but Luciana's actions had struck me dumb. I had never suffered physical abuse before, and I had no idea what to do. It was not that I was cowardly or foolish, even back then, but shock and inexperience deadened my tongue. I would learn how to protect myself later, after many painful lessons.
“Your father is dead and our mother is—”
“Not well,” Belladonna sliced in.
Luciana tossed her a piercing glare and turned back to me. There was an unholy flush across her pale cheeks. My heart pounded against my ribs. “And now, our problem becomes how to rid ourselves of you.”
That was too much for me to bear, bewildered as I was. “What?”
“Perhaps I should toss you out the window,” Luciana purred, caressing the hand I had bitten. “It would be so easy to make it look like a suicide. Poor Eleanor of Sandleford, she threw herself out of her window when she heard her father had been murdered. That would cause quite a stir. Picture their faces when they find your broken body on the ground, with your pretty neck snapped.” She reached out and trailed her fingers along the column of my throat, and I jerked away.
The Second Sister (The Amendyr Series) Page 4