Lady Mary's Muddle (Seven Wishes Book 4)

by Bree Verity

  Time to put her plan into action.

  With studied nonchalance, she sauntered up to Mr. Penny, trying to mimic the mannerisms of the gentlemen that surrounded her.

  “What ho, good sir and I wish you a good morrow,” she said, her voice disguised as a light baritone. She was certain her disguise was enough to fool anyone in the room.

  Mr. Penny looked at her with faint hauteur, his nostrils very slightly flaring. “Do we know each other, sir?” The voice was modulated but cold and it was all Fenella could do to keep from swallowing in alarm.

  “Of course, we do, old chop. We met purchasing a racing burro over at Newdemarketgate just last week.”

  “A… a racing burro?” His hauteur was replaced by glittering amusement and Fenella saw his eyes flick over to his companion. She bumbled on.

  “You know, fine young filly. Good form and all that, what?”

  “Right.” Mr. Penny nodded, his eyes still gleaming, his tone silky. “May I introduce you to my friend, Sir Walter Swagger? I do apologise but I seem to have mislaid your name.”

  “Commodore,” replied Fenella, giving the outstretched hand of Mr. Penny’s companion a hearty shake, despite his aura seeming to be even darker than Mr. Penny’s.

  “Oh, you’re a naval man then?” Sir Walter Swagger seemed to be sizing her up, his beady eyes narrow and his lips thin. He and Mr. Penny seemed to form a wall in front of her built on pure malice, and Fenella’s mind screamed for her to get out of there, but she held her ground.

  “No, not at all. Never set foot on the continent. Buy you a drink?” Fenella indicated to the well-endowed serving wench that she should bring the gentlemen drinks, which the girl did immediately. Mr. Penny’s eyes, and those of Sir Walter slid over the girl’s décolletage indecently and she blushed, keeping her gaze lowered.

  “Bottoms up then,” Fenella said loudly, and she and her companions downed the firewater that the place touted as fine liquor.

  Fenella’s eyes watered and she had to swallow forcefully several times to keep herself from choking and coughing. “Another?” she said hoarsely and, of course, Mr. Penny and Sir Walter agreed.

  Fenella, and indeed all dark fae, had a good head for hard drinking, still after three tots of the dreadful burning spirits from the gaming hell, she knew she needed to stop or risk not completing her mission here. Mr. Penny seemed well lubricated, so she made her move.

  With a guttural cough, she said, “I say old man, is it true you’re soon to be married to Lord Daughtry’s daughter?”

  Mr. Penny’s eyes narrowed, but he said evenly, “Yes, that is correct.”

  “Would you be up for a little wager?”

  “What sort of wager?”

  “If I win, you cancel your suit on Lady Mary’s hand.”

  Mr. Penny did not smile. “Why would I do that?”

  “So that I may have my chance with the lady in question.”

  At that exact moment, she noticed two things.

  She noticed Sir Percy jump up out of his chair, and the other gentlemen at his table loudly protest his behavior. Reluctantly he sat down again, to Fenella’s relief. She didn’t have the time right now to deal with his outrage.

  She also noticed Mr. Penny and Sir Walter exchange a broad smile.

  “Done.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Fenella had expected to have to press her case, to persuade Mr. Penny to take up her bet. It was an uncomfortable surprise to find he was so willing to chance his future so haphazardly. She felt thrown off-balance, somehow, certain that Mr. Penny was besting her without her even knowing. Between her wings, cramped under her clothes, her spine started to itch. Something was wrong.

  “I said done. One turn of the cards. If you win, I cry off.” He put a hand on his chest. “Never let it be said that Andrew Penny would stand in the way of true love.” But his noble words were accompanied by a sneer, and followed by a long, alcohol-scented burp from Sir Walter. Fenella was hard pressed not to take a step backward to avoid the man’s noxious breath.

  Word passed around the gaming hell quickly. A wager over a woman’s hand was so very unusual an occurrence that everyone wanted to have a piece of the action.

  Someone got a brand-new pack of cards from somewhere, and Fenella could not believe the speed at which money changed hands around her and Mr. Penny. Then, the crowd went silent.

  “You first,” said Fenella.

  “Oh, no,” Mr. Penny replied with a voluminous bow. “You go first. I insist.”

  Fenella swallowed. She preferred to draw second; she would have more time to conjure that way. And she wasn’t really good at transformation spells. She should have, she realised too late, asked Lachlan for his help. The tingle in her spine grew more uncomfortable.

  But it was too late now. She exhaled deeply and turned over a card.

  It was the three of clubs.

  The crowd roared, and even more money was passed around. Some of the gentlemen went pale.

  The hush spread over the group again as Mr. Penny’s hand hovered over the deck, his gaze fixed on Fenella’s face. She held his eyes, despite the thundering of her heart.

  Mr. Penny turned over a card.

  For a split second, the card was a ten of hearts, until Fenella’s desperate murmurings turned it to a two.

  The room exploded into arguments.

  “What kind of sorcery is this?” Mr. Penny picked up the two of hearts, shaking it angrily in Fenella’s face. “This was a ten. I saw it. You saw it. Walter saw it.” Sir Walter nodded his agreement, confusion crossing his features. She feigned ignorance.

  “I saw no such thing, sir. It is a two. It was always a two. Which makes me the winner.”

  Around them, voices started to be raised, demands were made for winnings. Fenella turned to Mr. Penny, who was silently staring at the card, his expression inscrutable. He shook it gently, turned it over and then back again, and shook his head.

  “Our wager, sir?” she said loudly. The crowd hushed.

  He looked up at her with deep suspicion, then glanced at the expectant faces round about. “I am not entirely certain what just happened, Commodore, but the card is obviously a two. Therefore,” he flung an arm out with the air of a circus performer, “I concede.”

  The room erupted in cheers and even more arguments. Coins jingled and promissory notes were exchanged.

  Fenella shook Mr. Penny’s offered hand, still feeling the strange sensation that something was wrong, despite having won the interlude. Mr. Penny and Sir Walter exchanged knowing looks and when Mr. Penny looked back at her, he seemed highly amused by something.

  “What is it?” she ventured to ask. “What is so funny?”

  “Nothing,” replied Mr. Penny quickly. “Nothing at all.”

  Suspicious, but unable to place exactly what it was she was suspicious about, Fenella took her leave of the two gentlemen, winding her way through the crowd and accepting the accolades from those who had profited from her wager. She exited into the freezing cold night, relieved to be able to breathe fresh air again. She inhaled gratefully and was just about to transform out of the gentleman’s body and clothes when she heard a shout.

  “Ho. You there.”

  She turned quickly to discover Sir Percival Pound had followed her out of the gaming hell and was closing the distance between them.

  “What do you want with Mary Pascoe?” The man’s voice oozed suspicion and that, coupled with his aura which showed white hot anger along with the tell-tale pink and green, gave her pause.

  “To bring her the happily ever after she deserves,” she replied sincerely, but Sir Percy only scoffed as he stopped with twelve feet between them.

  “And you think you are the one to bring that to her?”

  “What is it to you?” Fenella’s words, couched in a sympathetic tone, seemed to deflate him and his shoulders drooped.

  “Nothing I suppose.” The gloom in his voice, and his sudden air of despondency made Fenella want to place a brotherly h
and on his shoulder and tell him that she was working on it, that everything would be alright. But then, a martial light entered his eyes and he said, finger pointed at Fenella, “But if you bring her to any harm, any harm whatsoever, I shall track you down and put a bullet between your eyes.”

  Fenella shivered. The man was deadly serious. “Understood,” she replied with a nod, and with an answering nod, Sir Percy made his way back into the gambling house.

  She made sure she saw him disappearing inside the house before she winked out of sight.

  Chapter Six.

  Fresh from reporting her progress to Eldryth, Fenella felt flat. She knew there was something wrong. The skitters on her spine had not stopped. The very air in her bones felt it. Mr. Penny was playing a deep game, much deeper than Fenella knew. And she didn’t like not knowing, and not being able to anticipate what might happen next.

  She walked along the corridor to her quarters without even the thought of flying instead. Walking was wonderful thinking time. But today, all her walk did was to highlight that she didn’t know enough. It was frustrating.

  She reached her door, waving a hand before it to unlock the magical mechanism keeping it closed. It clicked open and she walked through into the dark interior of her quarters.

  She liked it dark. It provided a calming contrast to the white walls that surrounded her most of the time at fairy godmother headquarters. But the dark could also hide visitors, and as soon as she entered the room, she felt a presence.

  Neck prickling and wings buzzing with alarm, she said calmly, “How did you beat my locking system?”

  The familiar, drawling voice of her brother replied, “I didn’t. I just broke it.”

  Fenella called for light, and her twin brother’s face, so much like her own was illuminated. The only real difference, apart from the masculine lines on his that were softer and more feminine on hers, were his eyes. They were bright blue, as opposed to Fenella’s more liquid ink-like color.

  “What do you want?” she said, her tone disguising just how pleased she was to see him. Phineas was her twin, a rare occurrence in fae, and their bond had been close. Several years ago, Phineas had been approached by a secret blackdark organization known as Ravyn and had been forced to leave Fenella without telling her where he was going or what he was doing. His action caused a rift between them that had only been mended very recently, when Fenella, too, had been called by Ravyn. The wounds were still raw though, and Fenella’s trust of her brother still wavered a little.

  “Now now little sister,” he said. “Pleasantries first. How was your day?”

  “Frustrating.” She plopped down into a nearby chair.

  “Anything I can do?”

  Fenella massaged her temples. “Not unless you can read the hearts of humans.” She looked up quickly, a question in her eyes, and Phineas laughed.

  “No, I don’t think anyone can do that, even with soul magic,” he said.

  “Pity.” She sighed. “My godchild’s fiancé is playing me, I’m sure. But I don’t know why, and I don’t know how.”

  “Then how do you know he’s even doing it?”

  “I can just feel it.” Fenella could hear the frustration in her own voice. “I know it sounds unlikely, but something about him…”

  “… makes your skin prickle?” Phineas nodded. “I get that too with some people. It’s an instinct I usually follow.”

  “But that’s the problem. There’s nothing to follow.” She stared into the dark corner of the room for a moment, then shook herself off, turning her attention fully on Phineas. “Now, why are you here?”

  “Nazryth asked me to come and see you.” At the mention of the tall, dark-skinned, blue-eyed leader of Ravyn, Fenella felt a blush come to her cheek, and Phineas grinned.

  “Stop it,” Fenella said, jumping up to punch him in the shoulder. Having a fae twin with such a strong connection was no fun at all when it meant he could home in on her silly little crushes. “What did he want you to tell me?”

  “That there’s something he wants us to try out at Ravyn headquarters. Something to do with Byd Enaid.”

  “The soul plane? What is it?” Together, Phineas and Fenella wielded very strong soul magic. Still, Fenella couldn’t fathom what bearing that would have on the soul plane. That was the third plane, after Earth and Byd Tal’m, where souls went after death. As far as Fenella knew, it was off limits to fae – at least until after they died.

  Phineas shrugged. “Maybe we can open a line of communication,” he suggested, and Fenella brightened.

  “Perhaps it’s because our mother is there. We might be able to establish a strong link or something.” Fenella’s eyes brightened, gleaming in the darkness.

  “Perhaps,” replied Phineas, “but we’ll never know ‘til we go back and see Nazryth.”

  “Oh.” Fenella slumped back down. “But I can’t go. I have a new mentor, and it’s Eldryth.”

  “That ancient old she-fae that runs this place?” Phineas seemed impressed, but Fenella grimaced.

  “She basically has me checking in every two minutes,” she complained. “I can’t take a step without telling her about it.”

  “Surely you still have personal time?” Phineas seemed a little concerned. “Nobody can be at their job all the time.”

  “Yes,” replied Fenella uncertainly. “But I don’t know how closely I’m being watched at that time. Or even at all.” She ran her fingers quickly through her hair in a frustrated gesture and growled quietly. “I might be blowing it all out of proportion, I suppose. There’re no actual restrictions on my personal time. I can do whatever I want then.”

  “Good,” said Phineas. “Then you can come with me now.”

  “I really can’t, Phin,” she said, the exhaustion clear in her voice. “I’m ready to fall on my face. It’s been a long day and I’ve used up just about all my magic energy keeping up a disguise.”

  “Disguises certainly can take it out of you,” agreed Phineas. “Alright then. How about we make it tomorrow?”

  “How about the next day?” suggested Fenella. “I can get this happily ever after out of the way and can focus completely on Nazryth.”

  Phineas gave an amused grin, and Fenella realised what she had said. “I didn’t mean that…” she started hotly, but Phineas waved a hand at her.

  “I know,” he said. “But it is funny, the both of you pretending nothing is there.”

  “Nothing is there,” she insisted and while Phineas nodded, it was clear he didn’t believe her.

  “Phineas. I have Lachlyn.”

  Phineas snorted, unimpressed. “That skinny white fae with the attitude?” At Fenella’s affirmative nod, he looked disgusted. “Not worth your effort, little sister. Not compared to Nazryth.”

  Fenella was silent for a long moment, then said, “I need to tell him about Ravyn.”

  “You most certainly do not.” Phineas stood in front of her, alarm on his face.

  “I do, Phineas. We’re just freshly made up, and I feel dreadful hiding such an enormous secret from him.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You won’t tell anyone about Ravyn, least of all that… prancing… “

  “You won’t say dreadful things about Lachlan, I won’t let you.” Fenella’s tone was cold, which seemed to remind Phineas that the situation was amusing, and his smug smile just made Fenella even more annoyed. She gave him a little shove in the shoulder. “Go away, Phineas. I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”

  Phineas moved toward the door but stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. “Assure me, before I go, that you won’t tell Lachlan anything.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t. But there’s going to come a time when I will, Phin. And it‘s not very far away. No relationship can work if there are secrets.”

  “Relationships thrive on secrets,” he proclaimed, and Fenella’s eyebrow raised.

  “You speak from great experience, do you?” she said. “Your many successful relatio
nships?”

  With an insouciant wink, he slipped out the door and into the evening.

  Fenella sighed, pushing the door closed behind him, her thoughts on Lachlan and Nazryth. They two he-fae couldn’t be more different; golden Lachlan with his penchant for following the rules, and dark Nazryth leading up a dangerously subversive secret organization… then she shook her head. What was she thinking? She was with Lachlan. There was nothing between her and Nazryth, and never would be, because there was Lachlan.

  She viciously kicked a cushion that had slipped on to the floor. Phineas was just trying to push her buttons, that’s all. And she had let him do it. She needed to shore up her armor against her annoying brother. It was far too easy for him to slip through the cracks.

  Still, she did wonder about his words – was it true that Nazryth thought something was there? Even if it wasn’t? Even if it couldn’t be because of Lachlan?

  She couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as she cleaned up her little home and crawled into her bed. What would it be like, being with Nazryth? He was large; built on much bigger bones than Lachlan, but still kind and gentle. In the few times she had gone to Ravyn headquarters since that first visit when she and Phineas performed life-saving magic on a tiny she-fae with soul sickness, he had always been gracious, though serious; a big, solid presence.

  She lay her head down on her pillow. It was not surprising that he would be serious; he had the weight of the entire blackdark organization on his shoulders. And Fenella had found there were thousands of them, sprinkled across fae lands, in pockets and small groups like theirs here, hidden in the gnarled tree.

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. He was a huge source of energy. He had let her tap into it more than once to bolster her own, and she could feel that it was a deep, deep well. It was comforting to know the energy of such a one was behind you.