Guardian of the Gate (7 page)

We travel along the Thames for some time. Luisa, Sonia, and I hardly speak within the shadows of the carriage. The boats along
the river, the other carriages, and the people walking about all serve to keep our interest until the activity gradually fades.
Soon there is nothing but the water on one side and plains stretching to small mountains on the other. The rocking of the
carriage and the quiet outside lull us into a sort of stupor, and I doze fitfully against the velvet seat until finally falling
into a deep sleep.

I awake with a start some time later, my head against Sonia’s shoulder, as the carriage comes to a hard stop. The shadows,
before only gray smudges lurking about the corners of the carriage, have lengthened into a gathering blackness that almost
seems alive, as if waiting to claim us all. I shake the notion from my mind as raised voices make their way from outside.

Lifting my head, I find Luisa, as alert as the moment we pulled away from Milthorpe Manor, staring at Sonia and me with something
I cannot help but feel is anger.

“What is it?” I ask her.

She shrugs, looking away. “I have no idea.”

I did not mean to ask about the noise outside the carriage but about her strange demeanor. I sigh, deciding she is irritable
from being left to her own company during the trip out of London.

“Let me find out.”

I push the curtain aside from the window and spot Edmund standing near a bank of trees a few feet from the carriage. He is
speaking to three men who bow their heads in a show of respect that seems decidedly out of place given the rough nature of
their clothing and appearance. Their heads swivel in unison toward something that is blocked from my view. When they turn
back to him, Edmund reaches out to shake their hands before they turn away, making their way out of my line of vision.

I sit back in the carriage, allowing the curtain to fall back over the window. We have agreed to keep our identities as secret
as possible until we reach Altus, both for my protection and for the protection of Sonia and Luisa as keys.

The dull clop of horses’ hooves starts up outside the carriage
and eventually recedes into the distance. It has been quiet
for some time when Edmund at last opens the door. Stepping down into the sunlight, I am not surprised to see five horses and
a bevy of supplies. What does surprise me is that our horses from Whitney Grove are among the new additions to our group.

“Sargent!” I race over to the ebony horse that has been my companion on so many rides. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I
kiss his soft hair as he nuzzles at mine. Laughing, I turn back to Edmund. “However did you get him here?

He shrugs. “Miss Sorrensen told me about your… er… holiday home. She thought the journey might be easier with familiar mounts.”

I look over at Sonia, happily stroking her own horse, and smile in thanks.

Edmund pulls a bag from the top of the carriage. “We should leave as quickly as possible. It would not be wise to stand by
the side of the road for long.” He hands me the bag. “But first, I imagine you would like to change.”

Getting Luisa to don the breeches takes some doing. Though an excellent horsewoman, she was not in London with Sonia and me
when we began riding in men’s clothing. She argues with us for at least twenty minutes before finally agreeing. Even then,
her grumbling is clearly heard as Sonia and I wait outside the carriage, already changed and trying desperately not to look
at each other for fear we will burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Luisa finally emerges, holding herself stiffly as she adjusts the suspenders that hold up her breeches. She lifts her chin
to the sky and walks haughtily past us toward the waiting horses. Sonia clears her throat, and I know she is stifling a giggle
as Edmund hands us the reins to the horses we will be riding through the wood to Altus. He has already strapped our supplies
to the horses’ haunches. There is nothing to do but prepare to ride.

Still, I stop short of mounting Sargent. It is all well and good for the food, water, and blankets to be transported on the
backs of the horses, but there is one thing I must carry myself. Opening the saddlebag on Sargent’s flank, I dig around until
I find my bow and the knapsack containing my arrows and Mother’s dagger. That the knife was once used by Alice to undo the
spell of protection my mother cast in my chamber does nothing to dim the comfort it gives me. It was my mother’s long before
Alice took possession of it.

Now it is mine.

As for the bow, there is no telling if I will have cause to use it, but I have not practiced with the targets at Whitney Grove
only to leave our safety to Edmund. I sling the bow across my back and knot the knapsack across my body so that its contents
are within quick and easy reach.

“Everything all right?” Edmund, already atop his mount, eyes the knapsack.

“Perfect, thank you.” Feeling safer already, I lift myself onto Sargent’s saddle.

“What of the carriage?” Luisa asks, turning her horse away from it to follow Edmund.

His voice, coming from up ahead of us, is muffled. “Someone will be along for it later. It will be returned to Milthorpe Manor.”

Luisa’s brow furrows, and she twists in the seat of her saddle as she looks back. “But… one of my bags is still atop it!”

“Not to worry, Miss Torelli.” It is clear from Edmund’s tone that he does not expect an argument. “As with the carriage, your
extra bag will be returned to Milthorpe Manor where it belongs.”

“But…” Luisa practically sputters with indignation, looking from me to Sonia before finally accepting the futility of any
debate. When she settles back into the saddle, refocusing on Edmund’s back in front of her, the arrows she shoots him are
as real as if she were drawing back the string of a bow.

Behind her back, Sonia grins my way as we follow Edmund to the trees bordering the forest. I enjoy the moment of good humor,
even at Luisa’s expense, for as we leave the brightly lit clearing for the mysterious shade of the wood, I somehow know that
from this moment forward, the journey to Altus will be anything but pleasant.

“Ugh! I may never sit comfortably again!” Sonia lowers herself carefully onto the rock next to me.

I know just what she means. Riding at our own leisure could not have prepared us for six solid hours atop a horse.

“Yes, well, I imagine we’ll get used to it after a few days.” I mean to smile but the pain I feel at the rear of my breeches
makes me sure it is more of a grimace.

It was a strange day. A day in which we rode silently, hypnotized, it seemed, by the quiet of the woods and the rocking of
our horses. Sonia, Luisa, and I rode at the back while Edmund remained at the front by necessity; only he knows where we are
going.

Looking over at him, nearly finished setting up the two tents that will be our shelter for the night, I cannot help but wonder
at his energy. Though I don’t know Edmund’s age, he
has been a fixture in my life since I was a babe and he seemed fatherly
even then. Yet he sat uncomplainingly atop his mount through an excruciatingly long day of riding.

Scanning the camp, my eyes come to rest on Luisa, sitting alone with her eyes closed and her back against a tree. I would
like to spend a few moments talking with her, but I cannot tell whether she is asleep and am reluctant to disturb her.

When my gaze comes back to rest on Sonia, she appears close to slumber as well.

“If I do not get moving I fear I will never move again,” I tell her. “I’m going to help set up camp.”

I feel badly for poor Edmund, stuck in the forest with only three girls for help and companionship. I resolve to help him
as much as possible during our journey.

“I’ll be along in a minute.” Sonia’s words are nearly slurred with exhaustion.

She slides to the ground and cradles her head in her arms, resting them on the rock. She is asleep before I have walked five
feet.

Making my way to Edmund, I seek a task, any task, that will keep me busy and in motion. He is happy to oblige and hands me
some potatoes and a small knife, though I have never prepared so much as a piece of toast. Every potato I have seen up close
has been baked, boiled, or mashed. I finally decide they will not prepare themselves and begin peeling and cutting. It turns
out that even something as simple as cutting a potato requires a measure of skill, and after three near misses with the knife,
I begin to get a handle on the process.

A few hours later, I have learned to cook over a campfire and have even attempted to wash the dinner dishes with a tired,
quiet Luisa in the river a short distance from our camp. My own near-drowning and Henry’s death have instilled in me an almost
primitive fear of moving water, and I stay near the bank despite the river’s meandering current.

It is dark and late, though I have no sure way of knowing the time, when Sonia and Luisa head to our shared tent to change
for bed. Warming myself by the fire next to Edmund, I feel peaceful and safe, and I know his presence is a good portion of
the reason. I turn to him, watching the firelight flicker over his face.

“Thank you, Edmund.” My voice sounds louder than usual among the quiet of the trees.

He looks over at me, his face younger in the glow of the fire. “For what, Miss?”

I shrug. “For coming. For watching over me.”

He nods. “In times like these…” He hesitates, looking into the darkness of the forest as if he can see clearly the danger
that lies ahead. “In times like these you must have those most trusted at your side.” He looks back at me. “I like to think
I am at the top of that list.”

I smile at him. “That is most true. You are family, Edmund, as much a part of me as Aunt Virginia and, well…” I cannot bear
to speak Henry’s name to Edmund. To Edmund who loved and cared for him as his own son. Who bore his loss with silent tears
and gave me none of the recrimination I deserved after Henry’s death.

His eyes glaze over as he continues to stare into the night, remembering the thing neither of us wishes to remember. “The
loss of Henry nearly undid me. After, when you left… well, it seemed there was almost no cause to go on living.” He meets
my eyes. I see the pain there as fresh as if I were looking at him the day after Henry’s funeral when he took me to say goodbye
to James. “It was Alice who made me come with Virginia to London.”

“Alice?” I cannot imagine my sister sending help my way.

He nods slowly. “She retreated after you left. I didn’t see her for days, and when I finally did, I knew she was lost. Lost
to the Otherworlds.”

“And then?” I prompt.

“When I saw the look of her, her soul becoming blacker by the day, I knew you would need every possible ally. She may be an
ocean away, but make no mistake about it.” He pauses and looks into my eyes. “She may as well be standing here with us now.
And she is every bit the threat she was when you were under the same roof. Probably more given her desperation.”

I allow the words to settle between us, instinctively running my fingers over the raised mark on my wrist as I try to fathom
a world in which my sister, my twin, has grown more evil in my absence. Was it not enough that she pushed Henry into the river?
That she exposed me to the Souls and their power by reversing Mother’s spell of protection? But even these thoughts, these
thoughts I hardly have the will to contemplate, do not prepare me for what Edmund says next.

“And then there is the matter of James Douglas,” Edmund says.

My head snaps up. “James? What of him?”

Edmund inspects his hands as if he has never seen them before, and I know he does not want to say the thing he will say next.
“Alice has been… friendly with Mr. Douglas in your absence.”

“Friendly?” I can hardly choke out the word. “What do you mean?”

“She calls on him at the bookstore… invites him to tea.”

“And he welcomes her attention?” I cannot bear the idea, though I have already resigned myself to the futility in clinging
to thoughts of James when the prophecy is still no closer to an end.

Edmund sighs. “That might be reading too much into it.” His voice is kind. “Mr. Douglas was shocked by your sudden departure.
I think he’s quite lonely, and Alice… well, Alice looks like you. She’s your twin. Perhaps James only seeks to remind himself
of you in your absence.”

My heart beats too quickly in my chest. I am half surprised that Edmund doesn’t hear it in the quiet of the woods. I stand
up, feeling as if I may be ill. “I… I believe I’ll go to bed now, Edmund.”

He looks up at me, blinking in the dim flickering light. “Have I upset you?”

I shake my head, willing my voice steady. “Not at all. I am too far away to stake any claim on James.”

Edmund nods, his face creased with worry. “Your father and I were always honest with each other, and though you are a member
of the fairer sex, I somehow imagine that you expect the very same thing.”

“It is fine.
I
am fine. I couldn’t agree more; we must be honest, even when it is painful.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re
here. Good night, Edmund.”