Autumn Rose

by Abigail Gibbs

Fallon seemed uninspired. “I don’t think we’ve got time to wait for her to fall in love with him.”

  I stood a little straighter. “Why not?”

  Edmund left the pond and stared straight at the prince. The latter shook his head. “She’s seen it already.” I folded my arms. “The meeting was called because the vamperic council suspects that Michael Lee has gained an excuse to essentially launch a war against the vampires in his daughter’s name.”

  Hence the middle-of-the-night, three-hour (and, frankly, rude) warning everybody had been given of the meeting. Varnley were probably terrified. I raised an eyebrow. “And the excuse is . . . ?”

  “Prophecy. One of ours, to be precise.”

  “Which one?”

  Fallon threw his arms up in an exaggerated shrug with the same sudden burst of energy he had used to drag me in. “That’s what they hoped we could tell them.”

  “There have been rumors about the Prophecy of the Heroines,” I prompted, otherwise drawing a blank.

  Fallon shrugged.

  “And it gets even worse,” Edmund sighed.

  Fallon looked utterly surprised, like the idea of things getting worse was as ludicrous as that of a human girl being held political prisoner by creatures she had grown up thinking were mythical.

  “I talked with the head guard at Varnley this morning. Kaspar Varn and Violet Lee were pursued by two slayers on their return, and there is reasonable evidence to suggest those two slayers were Giles Randa and Abria Pierre.”

  I stopped leaning against the sofa. The slayers who had been with the Extermino! One look at Edmund’s face told me I was right.

  But Fallon picked up on something more. “Pierre?” He said it with such venom that I felt the need to find support for my back again.

  “Yes. Abria Pierre is the fifteen-year-old daughter of John Pierre and, since the killing of Claude Pierre in the Bloodbath, the next leader of the clan. She no doubt seeks revenge on the Varns for her brother’s death.” Edmund took a long breath to replenish the one he had expended in his, as always, thorough explanation. “More importantly, this signals that what we experienced at Kable was definitely no fluke. The slayers were not rebels who have joined the Extermino. They are the flesh of Pierre, and are involved in Lee’s efforts to return his daughter. They answer, it seems, to more than one master now.”

  “So it’s like a . . .” I searched around for some way of summarizing what I thought he was suggesting. “Interdimensional factional conspiracy?”

  Edmund raised an eyebrow. “Catchy. That is exactly what it is. Pierre, chri’dom, Lee, the rogue vampires, and probably this shady Crimson family have united. United while we are weak, divided, and in crisis over Violet Lee.”

  I wanted to tell him he was doing an extremely bad job of being a protective surrogate uncle at that moment. Putting all these worrying theories in my head was not going to help me organize a party effectively. Except they weren’t theories anymore. Someone in one of these breakaway groups had clearly discovered the maxim “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” and was exploiting it.

  Edmund, perhaps realizing that he had just horrified his two teenaged charges, hastily added: “But I can think of no more competent man to deal with this than your father, Fallon. He and your mother got us through two world wars, remember, and that’s just to mention the last century.”

  Comparing this to world wars wasn’t exactly reassuring, either, and Fallon chose that moment to excuse himself for a few hours’ sleep.

  Edmund did not move. Instead he placed his weight on one polished black loafer, folded his arms, and stared at me.

  “You’re too young for what is happening. You won’t be able to deal with what is going to happen to you—to us.”

  Before I could process those words, he was gone, fleeing down the long white corridor, lined with servants’ doors, back to the entrance hall.

  “Edmund, come back! I demand you explain that statement!” I yelled in his wake. The entire staff in the kitchens could probably hear me through the doors, but I didn’t temper my anger. “If you are referring to my visions, I’ll—”

  There was no point in continuing. He had disappeared. Instead I turned back to the conservatory and had barely crossed the threshold when a waxy leaf belonging to a white lily, so vast and heavy its stem drooped to the floor, caught fire. Making surprisingly efficient tinder, the entire leaf was engulfed. The single white lily did not survive, either. I left the pile of ash I had created.

  “Damn it, why won’t anybody explain anything to me?!” I hissed.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Autumn

  I hugged Lisbeth as soon as she unzipped the polythene bag. She could not have picked out anything more perfect. Yet by the time I had the dress on, I was having doubts.

  “It’s quite short,” I complained, tugging at the tiered hem that flared slightly from the hips, while the slip underneath somehow managed to stay firmly attached to my thigh, a little too high up.

  “No shorter than anything the other girls will be wearing,” Lisbeth reminded me from her dressing table, where her magic finished off her makeup. I didn’t disagree with that. My phone had been vibrating constantly all afternoon, with multiple girls seeking reassurance about their wardrobe choices. “And you asked me to find something for tonight. I think it’s very you.”

  She was right. It was boned and worked as well as any corset, pulling my waist in so there could be no doubt in anybody’s mind that I had anything but an hourglass figure, even at my age. It was entirely black and covered in a fine lace decorated with roses that overlapped the strapless top slightly, meaning I didn’t have to worry about that part too.

  “And it will impress everyone. You look gorgeous!”

  I slipped my feet into my black heels—the height of which would make Edmund very grumpy—and stared her down. I knew her game. She meant it would impress Fallon. She had been at it for two weeks.

  Except I wasn’t quite sure I would impress. I had left my hair down and curly, but had smoothed and pinned back one side with a tiny, rose-adorned slide, revealing an ear, which he never liked. If I left it down, it would annoy me all evening.

  “Stop playing with your hair.” Lisbeth came over and wrapped a large hand around my wrist, pulling it down and placing it over hers. Together we left her room to descend.

  Waiting at the bottom were the two younger princes (the duke and duchess had gone out on a “date”), looking refreshed after their afternoon of rest, as if the previous day and night had never occurred. That was what we all wanted. To forget, for one night, what was happening.

  Alfie, casual as ever, had opted for an open jacket and shirt with no tie, though he did have a deep blue handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, which matched Lisbeth’s dress as though made from the same silk. He came forward and took both her hands in his before placing them on the dress panels resting on her hips, which had miraculously produced curves.

  “You look wonderful,” he told her, making eye contact and refusing to break it until I crossed through his peripheral vision, heading for Fallon, who hung back. “You, too, Autumn,” he hastily added.

  I allowed him a small smile, and then returned my attention to Fallon. In looks he might be the image of his cousin, but in style he could not be more different. His black loafers gleamed—freshly polished—and his black trousers and jacket were so clean and crisp they had the appearance of crushed velvet in the soft candlelight, streaming from the lanterns floating in midair above us. I had the urge to reach out and touch it, to check, but found I had moved close enough to see it was cotton. Between the lapels peeped a double-layer black-and-gray waistcoat, and around his collar, a bow tie.

  I drank up these details in seconds and hastily searched for something to say, because once I had reached his hair, which h
e had done nothing whatsoever with, I became acutely aware he was drinking me in, too. “Every inch the host,” I settled on, smiling and parting my hands slightly, because what I really wanted to say was you look incredible.

  “You look . . .” He shook his head slightly and did not close his mouth, and then cocked one ear toward his shoulder. “I don’t have words.”

  I smiled and stared at his shoes.

  “I like this,” he murmured, reaching out and touching the clip in my hair. He pulled his hand back, smoothing a strand as he did. “I like your hair like this, duchess.”

  That was it. A cocoon in my stomach burst and from it fluttered butterflies, who found their way around my system in a heartbeat, and I was sure if I used my magic at that moment, I would accidentally burn the place down.

  Instead, I was left with the urge to tie Alfie to a stake and burn him as he cleared his throat with a snort, utterly ruining the moment. Lisbeth thrust her elbow into his ribs. He didn’t even flinch.

  It didn’t matter anyway. I could feel warmth approaching, the kind only humans could produce. Before I began to shut my mind down to the impending babble, Edmund wormed his way in.

  “Autumn, your friends are at the south gate.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. That meant they were in the lodge at the visitors gate, enduring security checks. “Brace yourself. I think that Gwen girl has been pregaming.”

  Fallon grimaced and Alfie laughed. “I’m looking forward to this.”

  The next hour was pandemonium. Tammy and co. were first to arrive, but I barely had time to do more than nod encouragingly at their stunned expressions and shunt them into the ballroom. The guests did not stop arriving, and having been roped in as hostess, I found myself hitting repeat when explaining that the gorgeous, mirrored ballroom was based on the one in the Palace of Versailles, and had been the Atheneas’ recent addition to the place. Most were left drooling at the lavishness.

  It was nearing nine o’clock when I caught up with my friends. They were clumped together, too afraid to approach any of the boys and even more afraid when Lisbeth and Alfie came to introduce themselves. But when alone, they were perfectly chatty and extremely excitable; Edmund’s guess that Gwen had been pregaming was quite correct. They were drinking now, too—Buck’s Fizz—and were giggling at a waiter offering canapés (another thing that fascinated them). Fallon had, of course, hired outside caterers from Athenea . . . because unless they had clocked up ridiculous air miles, they simply weren’t good enough.

  He had excused himself some minutes before to welcome the last guests, and I was just being bored by Gwen’s animated description of what she would like to do to the poor waiter (who was still in earshot) when she fell silent.

  Somebody behind me cleared their throat. “Sarlane, rafiki.” Hello, friend.

  I was so shocked to hear my tongue spoken in such an accent that it took me several seconds to turn around.

  “Jo?”

  We dived into each other’s arms without any more words and jumped up and down, squealing, until a second throat-clearing forced my feet to remain on the floor.

  There, sure enough, he was.

  “So’yea ar en manta t’ea rarn!” I said to the prince, trying to tell him off but sounding more amused than angry.

  He checked his smile and looked suitably admonished as I threw my hands to my hips, raising his hands in submission.

  “I’ll go and fetch you some drinks; let you catch up.” He laughed and made his hasty retreat.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Jo’s mouth widened into a silent shriek. “Wow,” she cooed. “Wow, wow, wow, the Athenea, you’re with the Athenea! I’m with the Athenea!”

  “I did notice.”

  “No, but this is incredible. Prince Fallon got special permission for me to dimension-hop, you know. He must really like you! God, that’s the best way to travel; it beats a plane every time.”

  There was going to be no reasoning with her, so I let her babble on, wondering how I had gone without her radiance for so long.

  “I have so much to tell you! You remember James Funnel from school? He lost his virginity to a . . .” She lowered her voice and glanced left and right. “A human, and that girl Raine is just horrible these days, she fell in with this group that think it’s cool to smoke and, get this, drink blood for the high it gives them! Apparently it’s some new craze people started when Violet Lee got kidnapped . . .”

  Jo fell away from me as though she had stumbled over the edge of a cliff. I saw her drop with wide eyes until she steadied herself on one knee, a low curtsy that could be done without a ball gown. Hesitantly, my human friends (whom I had completely forgotten about) bobbed into shallow curtsies.

  “Prince Alfred,” Jo forced out. Her voice trembled.

  Alfie cocked his head to the side and winked at me as we stood, the only remaining towers in a pile of rubble. “I see Fal has delivered his surprise to you, Autumn. But I think it best if she stands up to try the champagne. It packs a punch.”

  Jo nervously laughed, and, keeping a firm grip on the floating hem of her burgundy dress, tottered back up, blushing the whole time. I made a note to ask her if she had ever actually come across one of the Athenea during her summer at court. It didn’t seem like it.

  “I am so grateful that you have allowed me into your home, Your Highness. Especially considering the . . . ah . . . circumstances.” Jo glanced briefly at me and that one look told all: she knew what a web we were in.

  “Circumstances could well be our family name,” Fallon said, appearing behind me, omnipresent as ever. “Don’t trouble yourself with it.”

  Then why tell them in the first place? Unless it was a threat. A subtle unveiling of how deep, and how dangerous, their royal world was. The injunctions themselves were enough to make Jo quake in her shoes.

  As soon as I could, I whisked Jo away to a powder room tucked in behind the ballroom. I hoisted myself up onto the counter by the sink to give my aching feet a rest.

  “Oh Jo,” I breathed, reaching down and clasping her hands together in mine. “I wish we were children again!”

  She stared at the floor. “I thought we might drag up memories of the professor. Your grandmother, I mean.”

  I slid off the counter and span to face the mirror, sliding a finger under each eye to catch my smudged makeup. “My grandmother is dead, Jo. I know that.” But she wasn’t dead. She was staring right back at me in the mirror. She was there in my hair, and my scars, and my breasts . . . she was in my shadow. She was my shadow. My ever-looming shadow. “I’m not angry with anyone for being associated with her. Not even with the Athenea anymore. I’m okay now.”

  “But you’re scared. So are the Athenea. I could tell when we were invited. The security! And why did you stop telling me what’s going on in your e-mails? Have you found out whether the Athenea knew who killed her?”

  Once again I was astounded by how firmly her finger was on the pulse. Is it that obvious? Is it so clear to the outside world that we are not coping? That Violet Lee could rip us apart, limb from limb, and leave us for dead?

  I did not ponder those questions aloud. I felt I had a duty to reassure her, just like when we had been children. Because in our games I had always been the mother, and she my daughter; I was the doctor and she my patient; I was queen, and she my disciple.

  “They know, but it’s not important at the moment. There is so much other worry going around court now. You know that. We’re not immune, either. But it’s not worth ruining our time together.”

  Jo uncrossed her legs and rose to stand a little behind me. She tried to catch my gaze in the mirror but I would not allow it. “You’re right, Autumn. But now you’ve forgiven the Athenea for not telling you about the professor—”

  “I haven’t forgiven them, just accepted—”

  “Now you’re so close to them, will you and Prince Fallon get together?”

  I pursed my lips together. “That’s rather bold of you to say, Jo.”
>
  “What’s bold?”

  The excited squeal of Gwen clipped my next sentence, and I closed my mouth. Christy, Tammy, and Tee followed her into the bathroom, all intrigued. I watched their reflections.

  “Well?”

  “His Highness and Autumn going out,” Jo said, turning to my human friends with an excited plea on her face.

  There was a uniform gasp of astonishment. “Since when?” Gwen demanded, planting her hands on the counter to my left like she intended to drag it toward her.

  “No! I meant they should go out,” Jo corrected, alarmed at Gwen’s forceful nature. “It would be perfect, don’t you think? A fairy tale! Think of all the magazines she would be in!”

  The joy, I thought, summoning my foundation from upstairs into my hand and letting my magic do the work. Has she actually been absorbing what I say in our e-mails? We don’t want the attention!

  When the giggles had ceased, Gwen took up the role of spokesperson. “But seriously, you have way better chances than anyone else. So go out with him, get in his boxers, and tell us if that bulge is real or just a banana, ’kay?”

  “Gwen, you idiot, Autumn wouldn’t know what to do with a cock if it slapped her in the face.” The door slammed closed and in front of it stood Valerie Danvers and her two cronies. I spun on my heel to face them, defending the sink in the massive washroom as though it were my child.

  “Go away, Valerie,” came Tee’s brave reply. I felt a flutter of pride in my heart; it was Valerie I had saved Tee from, and I knew that this small, shy girl of twelve was twice as afraid of the bully as I was.

  “And don’t be so gross,” Tammy elaborated.

  “Just because you’re a skank doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” Gwen spat, taking three steps forward so she and Valerie were nose-to-nose.

  In a mirror to my right I saw Valerie’s lip curl with a raised eyebrow. “Look who’s talking. We all know you’d shag some Sagean shit the first opportunity you got.”

  Gwen scoffed but backed away in guilty retreat, just as Jo, whose eyes darted from one girl to another, silently got up off the stool and came to hold my hand. Christy came and held the other.