Enchanter's Echo (31 page)

“Sorry, Mother. No trespassing.”

She raised her chin. “Excuse me?” Her scarlet coat didn’t move in the fierce wind. Nor did a hair move on her matching fur-lined hat. Pipers had a phrase for people like her: litter-lights. Keene had told him a couple of days ago as if it was a big secret, but Edmund had heard the term a long time ago.

“Edmund Rallis, I will see that girl this moment. You will not deny me entrance.”

He blew out an exhausted sigh. “You are denied entrance, Mother. Besides, even if I let you pass, which, let’s be clear, I’m not, you can’t get into her tower. Her enchantment is impenetrable. Go home.”

When she pivoted on her heel and strode back to the car, he didn’t think for a moment that he’d won.

The driver hopped out to open her door, but his mother slipped in the driver’s seat. The chauffeur gave a long suffering sigh.

The sentry in the front seat shook his head. It wasn’t difficult to read his lips. “Lady Rallis—”

Spelling the window’s glass away, she stuck her head out. “Get in,” she ordered the driver. “Or be left behind.”

“You need some back-up, Monday?” Bull shouted from the porch of the empty metallist’s shop, laughter dripping from his voice.

“Nope. I got this.”

“Really. You’re gonna stop a car. All by yourself? I think that one’s infused with unstoppable spells, isn’t it? I hope you can jump fast.”

The three men with him guffawed.

“Watch and learn, boys.”

His mother put it in drive and stepped on the gas. Edmund threw a shield against the front driver’s side tire. The vehicle spun around twice before his mother stopped. She put it in reverse, thought to trick him. He released his spell, but as she backed up with a fury then slammed it into drive, he switched it to the other tire. Another circle. She stopped, parallel to him and rolled down her window. She was giving up quicker than he’d expected after all.

“I might have talked some sense into her.”

“I don’t think so. But thanks for the thought.”

“The P.U.R.E. rally is rescheduled. It’s in three days.” She sighed, terribly put-upon. “Edmund, we need you back. Quit playing games and come home. You have three senate bills on your desk waiting to be re-worded, and too many requests for hearings to count. From the commoners, not the lobbyists, so don’t give me that look.” She glanced back at the tower. “Bring her with you.”

“She won’t come.”

“Make her. We have plenty of towers at Rallis Hall if she wants to lock herself in.” She spelled up the window. He wasn’t fooled. She didn’t get an inch before he spun her around again. When she finally stopped, she lifted her chin and drove away.

Bull strode up to him as the boys behind him applauded. “Impressive. Oh, to be a first family. The power. Must be intoxicating.”

“Indeed.”

Bull slapped him on the back. “Could be you’re just the kind of man we need around here, Monday. Could be you’re perfect.” Bull put a hand on Edmund’s head and rubbed hard, messing up his hair. “Then again, could be you’re still too perfect, pretty boy.”

* * * *

A bell sang through the tower with a nonstop ring. Aurora opened her eyes. She recognized Gwyn’s impatience. Why didn’t she just come on in?

The impenetrable spell.

Had she actually cast that? Aurora pulled her vibes inward just in case. They came with a creaking slowness. By the time she completed the uncasting, she’d practically forgotten what spell she’d just undone. Everything ached from the simple effort, even her eyes. She let them close.

“I brought soup.”

Aurora jumped at the hard rhythm of the words and opened her eyes again to find Gwyn standing next to her bed. “Edmund….”

“Pfft. Not here. You locked him out good. About time.” She frowned. “Though I hope you have enough strength to recast that spell if you plan to keep him out.”

“How did you get in?”

“You just let me in, remember? Focus, girlfriend.”

Right. That was the impenetrable spell she’d uncast.

“By the way, his mother wanted in, too. Last thing we need around here is another Rallis. Damn suckers drain everyone dry.”

“Don’t say that. They’ll hear you.” No one called the Rallises that in their own territory.

“No, that’s just what they want you to think. They’re not the all-powerful, best-at-everything mages everyone thinks they are. You got your comeuppance for helping him. Now drink.” She held a glass with a straw to Aurora’s lips.

She leaned forward to take the straw, and then fell back with a sigh of relief. “You’re a chipper nurse. You look exhausted.”

“What do you expect? I’ve been worried like crazy! Who gets sense sick?” Gwyn held out her arms, exasperated.

“Where’s Edmund?” She closed her eyes against the censure certain to be in Gwyn’s face.

“He hasn’t left, that’s for damn sure. He’s pretty much taken over the gang while Bull sits and watches, which I guess is a good thing since no way could Bull have stopped Lady Rallis. Still, it’s a shitty idea to hook up with him.” The bed sank under Gwyn’s weight as she sat down.

“We’re done.” Aurora inhaled sharply, quickly, before her nose could fill with residual tears.

“No more dropping everything and running off together at the crook of his privileged finger?” Gwyn’s squint revealed that she already knew the answer to that question.

Aurora was still vowed to help.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The bell jingled through the tower again.

“It’s Mother Merida. She’s been fretting in her no-nonsense way,” Gwyn’s sour tone carried through the tower. Another set of footsteps pounded up the metal stairs.

“How are you feeling?” Merida asked the question before she came into sight.

“How do you think?” Gwyn answered. “She looks like trash vibes. She could have died up here all alone. Or she could have lost her power permanently.”

Merida wasn’t the only one who’d been fretting.

The healer was shaking her head as she came around the line of bamboo. Between her hip and her arm, she balanced a potted snowdrop bush so heavy with blooms its stems nearly drooped.

“The only way to kill off an enchantress’s power is to get her sick and then cut her off from every living thing.” Merida dismissed the concern with a derisive tone.

“Hello?” Gwyn sang. “It’s the dead of winter and everything’s buried in five feet of snow. I think that’s about as dead as it gets.”

Merida scoffed at Gwyn’s misinformation. There was always life around.

The healer’s dark eyes examined her from head to toe, her vibes following her gaze and prodding at Aurora’s own energy. “She’s right. You look like trash vibes. You’re pale and gone so skinny I think your skull shrunk. For the sake of your brain, stay in bed until I say otherwise. You can soak in the good vibrations from the flower blossoms.” She walked around to the other side of the bed, grabbed the lamp on her bedside table and set it on the floor. She stuck the plant in its place. “There. Right next to you for better absorption.”

“It’s beautiful. Where did you find it?” She leaned over and reached out a hand to stroke a velvety petal. She hadn’t spotted the rare plant since she’d been back here.

“I didn’t. They’re from him.” Merida paused for a moment. “Lily wants a crown of them. She spies on him from the edge of the forest every chance she gets.”

Aurora dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“We can’t afford his presence around here. For Lily’s sake, and Tera’s, you have to get rid of him.”

“Founding families don’t take no for an answer. They take what they want and to hell with the rest. Unless you’re totally awesome enough to outsmart them.” Gwyn smiled with pride; after all, she’d defeated her own family and escaped their clutches. She picked up a take-out bowl of soup that was sitting on the nightstand, cracked it open, and handed it over with a spoon.

“I’ll take care of it.”
Somehow.
Aurora sat up and stared down at the soup. Tomato basil from the diner. Gwyn had gone out of her way to fetch this treat. “Thanks.”

“If ever there was a girl who deserved her favorites, it’s you. Getting rid of him means you have a rough time ahead of you.”

While she took small sips, the two regaled her with four days of events in the junkyard. A long list of Drainpipers had gotten an audience with the heir. In between petitioners, Edmund, along with Tera, had gone around the junkyard laying dormant spells ready to spring up defensive shields to protect the towers.

“With Tera?” The alarm in her voice scratched at her throat.

“She wore her hat.” From her tone, the healer disagreed with the girl’s actions. So did Aurora. If Edmund saw Tera’s ears, the jig was up.

“Why shield spells? Does he think the towers are going to be attacked?” Aurora asked. But someone already had. She put her spoon on the tray.

“Who knows?” Merida shrugged. “The park was attacked. Twice.”

Gwyn spoke up. “Well, I say the more security the better. After all, your father was killed. If the security had been better, that syphon mage wouldn’t have gotten through and your father would still be alive. This is what happens when founding families get involved. The Casteels can be as wicked as the Rallises.”

“That poor syphon girl can’t hurt a flea. Besides, the Casteels hardly count anymore. They’re Rallis allies,” Merida retorted.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Their new senator grew up under the strong, mean wing of the High Councilor herself. Selene Glender Casteel has balls of titanium. They’re so heavy and hard they weigh down her smile. She’s ruthless and has alienated every one of Casteel’s old allies,” Gwyn spat.

Merida rolled her eyes. “How do you know?”

“I have my sources.”

“Yes. Newspapers. Just like the rest of us. And there have been no accounts of a titanium-balled female senator dissolving alliances.”

“That’s because there aren’t any formal alliances. But believe what you want. You always do.” Gwyn’s bitter words sang through the air.

Aurora was too tired to listen to this. She dropped her head against her pillow.

“All right. Out we both go.” Merida stood. “We’ve brought the exact wrong kind of vibes for you.” She took Aurora’s wrist and fastened a healer’s bracelet around it. The sign of every sick mage in the Republic, the bracelet contained a calling card spell for the healer. “Better late than never. Call me if you need me.” She took the soup. “You rest. The soup will be in the fridge.”

With Merida gone, her best friend gave her a long look.

“What?”

Gwyn tilted her head and smiled softly. “Goddess blessings, Aurora.”

Aurora blinked. Gwyn didn’t believe. “You, too, Gwynnie.”

She shook her head. “Nope. Not for me. Just you.” She turned and left. A clatter of feet down the stairs told Aurora she was gone. After a few minutes in the kitchen, Merida did the same.

She scooted down among her covers and stared at Edmund’s flowers. Her eyes drifted shut. By the time she woke, the sky was dark gray. Outside a lone figure strode through the snow toward her tower. His hands in his pockets and a scarlet cap on his head, he stared up at her, as if he could see through her walls of vines.

She got out of bed, her toes instantly cold from the chill of the floor. She paced to the railing, needing the support beneath her hands to hold her weak body.

She might have yanked another impenetrable spell around her tower, but her energy shuddered with a painful protest from merely being out of bed. It was much too soon to cast any spells.

Outside, Edmund ground to a halt as if he’d sensed her. He looked right at her, though it was impossible for him to see her. He was merely guessing. That was the only explanation for it.

“You’re right.” He whispered the words, gently tossing them to her ear, as if he was afraid his vibes would hurt her. And they did. But she listened anyway.

“I worded my vow on purpose. But it wasn’t a game. You are not a game to me. But I have to go into the forest if the damn fissures lead there. And you know it.”

She did. He had every reason to go. But he’d gotten much too close. It wasn’t her love…or his…that mattered here. It was her people. Though her heart belonged to him, though he made her laugh and challenged her mind, though his arms held love and safety…it didn’t matter.

Her lips tingled, the words hovering again, waiting for their chance.

She let them form.
I love you.
A silent confession, hidden behind the enchanted walls of her tower. Another secret to hold close, along with all the others.

How many more could she hold before her arms collapsed from the weight?

“Protecting this territory, this Republic, upholding everything it stands for…whether I want it or not, it’s who I am.”

Protecting her people…that’s who she was, too.

He continued, “And you know what? I didn’t want it. Who was I to help the people find solutions to their issues when so many of them see my kind as the problem? A dark mage leading the light? It’s like a bad joke.

“But I can stand up for Merida and those like her who are marked by some stupid prejudice mages never should have let stand. Her reward for following the law shouldn’t be a life of hiding.” He absently touched the lines at his temple. “You gave Merida a chance to heal. You’re the champion of every dark mage in the Pipe. Let me help you.”

Let me help you carry your secrets.
Words that she would never hear. Words that he would never mean. She wrapped her arms around her chest and lifted her head to the clouds as if she might offer up the core of her soul to hear those words.

“Let me stand by your side.”

She closed her eyes. A tear dripped down to her cheek. He could never stand by her side because the law stood in between them, a barrier that they could not cross. Not when he supported the Law of Natural Physique and she was its most ardent violator.

He took a breath. “Get back in bed before you fall down.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away.

“If you’re not going up on stage, Mr. Monday, then have a seat.” Izzy looked up at him with matter-of-fact sympathy. She plucked her neighbor’s toddler out of the seat next to her.