Autumn Rose: A Dark Heroine Novel

by Abigail Gibbs

  “It’s calming,” Fallon reassured. He seemed quite happy to take gulps of his, and no sugar had been added, so I took a few sips. I was nervous anyway. Anything that might help me explain about Nathan had to be a good thing. It tasted fruity, and reminded me of the herbal drinks my grandmother had brewed when I was a child, to ward off my headaches.

  Edmund entered and took a seat in one of the upright armchairs nearer the fire, waving Chatwin over with what I was quickly realizing was characteristic arrogance. He, too, took a cup of the tea, downed it, and then sighed into the empty cup. He drank another when Chatwin brought it.

  When the prince and princess entered, followed by Alfie and Lisbeth, that ego was eclipsed as he jumped up and bowed. I tried to do the same, but Fallon grabbed the side of my blouse and I got no farther than placing my hands on the cushions to lift myself up. Edmund sat back down but nobody else seemed inclined to do the same.

  “Well?” Prince Lorent said to Edmund. He was not happy. He was using the same tone of voice as when the news about Violet Lee had arrived.

  “They used a hybrid of block and elemental hexes to conceal themselves. We never felt it coming until a mist appeared. When we consumed that mist,” he turned to look at me, and everybody’s eyes followed, “we stood little chance. Thankfully, so did they. Whatever it was, it was new and extremely powerful.”

  He emphasized the last sentence, clearly on the defensive, because what had happened had crushed his professional pride.

  “Did you get a sample?”

  Edmund looked a little more pleased with himself this time. “Alya has already gone to test it.”

  “How many were there?”

  “Five,” Fallon answered.

  “Six,” I modified.

  “Eight,” Edmund corrected. I jolted my head back down to stare at my lap. If I had known there were that many, I never would have gone near that mist. “Two fatalities, one injury, on their part.” I looked straight back up again, practically begging Edmund with my eyes not to elaborate. I couldn’t have them knowing I had done that. “But two were human.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “And it appears that they were not only human, but slayers. A Giles and Abria of the Pierre clan. Richard is trying to profile them now.”

  Alfie’s lower lip curled slightly as his jaw dropped. “Slayers. As in, the Pierre clan . . . with Michael Lee . . . slayers?”

  His mother was more direct. “What on earth gives you that idea?”

  “This,” Edmund said, and cast the stake into his hands. Everybody gasped. “Autumn found it, shall we say, when it cut into her leg after they had crossed the borders. Hence the blood.” He pointed at me and I nodded.

  He took it over to the table, and each person examined it in turn. My heels began to bounce with nerves. The tea hadn’t worked.

  Prince Lorent ran a hand down his face and turned to his wife. “I don’t think we can delay speaking with Ll’iriad.”

  “To Athenea it is.” She sighed, picking up the stake. “Don’t go far, Edmund; he may want to see you, too.”

  The man bowed and Fallon went to stand up, too. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath, letting it go with a rush of words. “There is something else!”

  “Oh?” Prince Lorent tilted his head. Edmund caught my eye and shook his head slightly. I ignored him. I was not going to say what he thought I was.

  I closed my eyes. “It sounds crazy, but I think I knew one of the Extermino.”

  “Knew one?” When I opened my eyes again, Fallon’s uncle was advancing on me, and I dug my feet in to push myself back into the chair.

  “Yes. I . . . when he was human.”

  “Human?” he echoed, stopping. “Duchess, what are you implying?” His tone was so accusatory that I couldn’t look directly at him.

  “I knew him from work, he was a cook, and . . .” I trailed off, screwing my eyes tightly shut as I realized that—

  “I may have . . . er . . . forgotten to mention your job,” Fallon filled in. He pursed his lips and chewed on them, running a hand down the back of his head.

  “That’s not of any consequence. Just carry on with what you have to say,” his aunt said impatiently.

  Of course it’s of consequence. It wounds your honor more than mine. Nevertheless, I continued. “He stopped turning up about a week after you arrived at Kable.” I looked at Fallon. “And then quit, without giving notice. I didn’t think anything of it, but then he appeared right in front of me in the mist, covered in their gray scars. He was so close I could have touched him. And he didn’t attack me.”

  “You were utterly defenseless against the block hex. You could have simply been confused,” Edmund offered, playing devil’s advocate. But I could see it in his features that he believed me, and that he was genuinely worried.

  “No! I’m sure!” I insisted. “I checked his Facebook profile just now. He’s deactivated it. And he has a really unique voice. You heard a strong Devonshire accent in the mist, didn’t you?” I pleaded to Fallon and Edmund.

  “I did,” Fallon said, and Edmund nodded.

  “If the Extermino have started turning humans, then a full investigation will be launched at the highest level. Are you completely and utterly sure of this?” Fallon’s uncle demanded.

  I was just short of positive. “Yes, I am.”

  “What is his full name, and when was the last time you definitely saw him human?”

  I turned to Edmund. “Nathaniel Rile. The first Saturday of September.”

  The Athan’s next leader shifted his weight onto one foot, cupping his right elbow with his left hand and resting the index finger of his right at the corner of his lips. He frowned at me. “Presumably you had him as a friend on Facebook. Were you close?”

  I blinked a few times and recoiled. “No. We just worked together. I hardly even saw him over the summer.”

  He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Duchess, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but when you were together, did he ever show interest in you? Flirt, perhaps?”

  I blushed very deeply and felt my lips part of their own accord into a small o. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Did he say or do anything that ever made you uncomfortable or wary?”

  I fiddled with my hands in my lap. This was all turning out far worse than I had imagined it would if they had decided to believe me. “He found out that another Sagean family had moved to the area. One of high status.” I didn’t plan on mentioning I had as good as told him that. “And I guess you could say he hunted down my title online.” I looked up. “I never told anyone I was a duchess before Fallon arrived. But you forgot to mention that, too, didn’t you?” I grimaced at the prince sitting next to me. He grimaced back.

  My bodyguard-turned-interrogator hummed in response, then began drumming his fingers against the top of the chair he had sat in when he first entered.

  “Edmund?”

  He turned to the princess. “The Extermino have deliberately chosen someone close to the duchess. If she is indeed correct and this Nathaniel has been turned, then it would logically follow that he had a motive in wanting to become a Sage. It is inconceivable that any human could survive a Sagean turning unless he truly has the will to do so. He was not forced, I can tell you that.”

  Fallon and Alfie were both staring at me. “You think the duchess was his motive?” the former asked.

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “And the Extermino’s motive in turning him?”

  Edmund gave the two young princes a pointed look, and the elder occupants of the room frowned with worry.

  I examined Prince Alfie, then the youngest prince, having lost track of the conversation at their vague exchange. “But surely, by picking someone near to me, they knew they could get to you? I am so sorry. I know you were trying to get away from all this.” Yet again I found myself slumping toward my lap.

  “You had no part in this. And life is nothing but for a little excitement,” Fallon’s uncle consoled, though th
e tone of his voice was weary. “Edmund, I would still like some sort of security set up around the duchess’s home. Until that is in place, she will stay with us.”

  My head popped up, but I knew better than to argue with Prince Lorent. Edmund had resumed using the glare I seemed to incite in him, but Fallon was fighting a smirk. I chose to ignore it, trying to block out the feel of him on top of me, because it was putting the tint of my eye in jeopardy.

  The finer details of what had happened were discussed, and ideas of what kind of security we would now need bounced around before things drifted off into a natural silence.

  “We cannot delay any longer,” the princess hinted to her husband. He took a cup of tea, finished it, and then nodded.

  “We will send an envoy when the king is ready to receive you, Edmund. And Fallon, you are to come with us.” The youngest prince tilted his head and I could hear a faint sigh of exasperation. His uncle finished by addressing the remaining occupants of the room, instructing us to have lunch.

  I managed to stand up and curtsy this time, because Fallon had gone to join his aunt and uncle in the corner. Lisbeth and Alfie quickly disappeared upstairs. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t feel like I could do anything after what had happened. Instead, I hovered outside the ajar door to the room, deciding.

  “So, young prince, what else have you not told us about her?”

  I jumped. The sound of my virtually ruined shoes slapping against the tiles echoed in the empty entrance, and I clapped my hand to my mouth to suppress a sound of dismay. They were talking about me. I knew their downplaying of my having a job was false. But that was insignificant compared to what else Fallon knew. He would tell them about the visions, if he hadn’t already. He had only said he would try to keep silent. I didn’t mind them knowing. My visions could help. What I was more afraid of was becoming a weapon. That was what happened to seers. Especially seers who could envision (or, like me, couldn’t stop themselves from envisioning) large events. That would mean returning to court and taking up my place on the council as soon as I turned sixteen. Being a duchess in name only would not be enough if the Athenea chose to use my gift.

  No, no child! I am a cursed seer. We all are. That’s what she always said.

  The sound of Prince Lorent’s accusation had thrown me into a stupor; the sound of the door being slammed by someone with a thickly scarred hand of midnight blue—Edmund—wrenched me out of it.

  Oh, so they are quite happy to force their company and their security on me. They are quite happy to delve for information on me. But I’m not allowed to be that close. I wasn’t, after all, precious royalty.

  That thought hurt. Weeks before, I never thought it would. I still didn’t understand where it was coming from. I wanted to be at home. I did want to be at home. But a weekend here had made me feel included. Part of something. I hadn’t felt part of something since St. Sapphire’s.

  Yet at that moment all I wanted was to get away, and my feet obliged, carrying me toward the terrace at a pace that threatened to turn into a sprint. I could hear how hard the rain was becoming, but that didn’t deter me. The table and chairs beckoned and I took the seat farthest from the view of the glass French doors. My fingers locked themselves into the gaps between the wrought-iron intricacies and my arms folded, providing my head with a pillow from which I could watch the rain. I wasn’t aware that I was crying until my vision fragmented because of the teardrops dangling from my lashes. I smothered them with the crook of my elbow.

  Why won’t the infernal rain stop? Did it not rain enough over the summer? I wouldn’t mind so much if it didn’t bounce off the lip of the raised terrace, straight onto my shoes. The inner lining was disintegrating beneath the balls of my feet, and it felt as though they rested on slime. My mother had warned me this would happen if I chose nonleather shoes. But I would not wear leather, and she could not understand that.

  And a little sun would do me so much good. It got rid of the stupid little bumps beneath my skin, which threatened to erupt into pimples at the slightest sign of stress, and it lightened the auburn streaks in my hair to make them look more blond. It was so much easier to be positive when it was bright.

  “Why did you do it, Nathan?!” I demanded from the rain. I tried to smack the table in frustration, but my fingers were trapped between a laurel leaf and a spiral and I just ended up crying out in pain instead. Once I had eased them out, I settled back down.

  What did they tell you, to make you do this? How convincing were their lies to make you leave your home, and your family, and your job? What compelled you to place your life on a line made of piano wire? Don’t you know anything about the Extermino? Anything at all?!

  The rain didn’t answer. The rain just rained.

  The Terra had made a lot of murky things illegal. At the top of that list was turning humans into Sage, or any dark being who could actually wield magic, for that matter. It was dangerous. Massively, massively dangerous. Magic was active in our blood; it could overwhelm humans and kill them if they were exposed. It took somebody of extraordinary power to control a turning, and a human of equal strength to survive it. It was an uncomfortable thought, but I could only think of one person among the Extermino as being able to do it.

  Violet Lee had gotten lucky, therefore. A vamperic turning was safe by comparison, as vampires’ magic was dormant, providing their physical abilities and thirst. It was the least painful, the most practiced, and widely accepted. She would become a charge of the royal family, and would not be in want of anything. She had been given a choice, because her captors were vampires.

  But Nathan had survived.

  The sound of wood scraping across wood in the frame of the door roused me from my thoughts and I rushed to dab at my eyes, briefly hoping it was the prince but just as quickly reminding myself that he had probably gone to Athenea already to deliver the news about the Extermino to his father. When I turned, I found Edmund leaning against one of the posts that held the veranda up. The rain from the gutter was soaking his hair, but he didn’t seem to mind, even if he was shortly going to meet the king. The bangs that he usually kept carefully slicked back had sunk down onto his forehead, and the sun-bleached coils all but covered his very dark, very thick scars, which were about as intricate as a ninety-degree angle. That had clearly not mattered to Gwen, however.

  I laid my head back down to watch the rain. I was not interested in his impending lecture. I knew the Terra backward, and I knew that in the eyes of the law, I was practically a hero for what I had done. My bookishness and interest in all things thought to be tedious by others paid off. It always had.

  “Killing an Extermino with a death curse at age fifteen. Impressive. Stupid,” he reasoned, and I could imagine, almost hear, him folding his arms. “But impressive.”

  I did not look up. I closed my eyes, because the rain was no longer streaking straight to the ground but across the garden in sheets.

  “In fact . . .” The chair scraped across the grooved flooring. “If you were not a noblewoman with what I am sure will be a glittering political career ahead of you, I would recruit you on the spot.”

  “How do you know I killed one?” I asked my arm.

  He laughed. “It’s my job to know about it.”

  I finally raised my head and squinted, because my vision was blurry. His outline gradually filled in and I was able to focus. “You didn’t tell them.”

  “I don’t think your ability to wield that curse should be broadcast, least of all to the Athenea. Power scares people. If you were not in danger, I would advise you to bury the theory deep. But you are in danger,” he finished in a low murmur, drumming his fingers against the treated iron. His nails occasionally caught a fleck of the emerald-green paint and he would flick it away, staring at a spot just above my right shoulder. “They will want revenge on you for what you did,” he stated matter-of-factly, snapping from his trance. “And yet you are not afraid. You are apathetic toward the notion that you have killed a fellow
Sage. None of your rash actions today resulted from the bloody staining of your hands. Why is that?”

  He leaned forward so his elbows slotted into a gap in the table, and intertwined his fingers. It was a rhetorical question, and I kept my gaze as steady as I could under his pensive expression, sensing he was enjoying the challenge. He drummed his fingernails together twice more, and then clapped his hands in much the same way as when the fireman had turned him away.

  “Ah, I see. You think the Extermino killed her, don’t you?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Get out of my mind.”

  “You know full well I am not in your mind, my lady. It was simply a perceptive guess. And your reaction told me I was correct.”

  I huffed and swiveled in my chair so my entire body faced the rain, presenting my back to him. “I’m right though, aren’t I? It was the Extermino. You know why, too. They all do.” I gestured awkwardly back toward the doors, earning a painful click of my shoulder as I did.

  He didn’t answer, and I could hear the groans of the chair as he shifted.

  “You won’t tell me, either,” I snapped, wrapping my arms around the back of the chair and gripping it tightly. I hugged it, using it as an aid to fight the tears from returning.

  “Is that why you ran today? Why you push Fallon away? You feel cheated.” His voice had softened and all the taunting had disappeared. He sounded the way I had always wanted my father to sound. Concerned. “That is understandable.”

  I jolted my head around. “It is?” I breathed.

  “Yes. I would feel the same way if I were you.”

  I returned to addressing the soaked garden, eyes fixed on the lawn beyond the flower beds, which was collecting water in puddles because the ground was becoming saturated. “Then why won’t you, or anyone else, tell me the truth?”

  “Would you believe me if I were to say it is for your own good?”

  I shook my head vigorously, frustrated that such a statement had been used to twist my arm twice in one day. I wrapped my arms even tighter around the chair, forcing them to stretch so my hands could reach and grip the sides. The bars dug into the crease between my armpits and breasts, yet the dull ache was the only antidote I had available to prevent myself from crying. And I would not cry in front of a man I had only truly known for a day.