Illusions of Fate (15 page)

“Who
are
you talking to?” Finn asks, and I turn to find him walking several steps behind me, swinging his cane in time to his pace. Sir Bird is on his shoulder but hops to mine.

I abruptly change directions and head instead for Eleanor’s house.

“Eleanor’s is rather a long walk. Shall I call for my carriage?”

I whirl around and Finn nearly crashes into me. “Shouldn’t you be doing something productive with your time instead of following me around? I thought you were figuring out how to get your shadow back!”

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” He reaches up to take off his hat.

I stand on the tips of my toes and slam it back down. “Leave that on!” I realize a second too late that this position puts us face-to-face. I haven’t been this close to him other than in immediate peril situations.

This feels far more perilous.

His smile spreads. “I’ll leave my hat on if you’ll have supper with me and allow me to walk you home.”

I scowl and let go of his hat, backing away to a respectable speaking distance. “I’m safe. You have no further obligations.”

“Is that so?” He nods toward the roof of the school. My stomach flips to discover it is lined with large black birds.

They are watching me.

Sir Bird shifts closer to my neck, a low, comforting sound in his throat. I stroke his feathered head but cannot look away from the silent sentries.

I swallow hard and clench my gloved hand. “Supper then.”

“Marvelous idea! Should we eat in the hotel dining room?”

“Oh, no! I couldn’t. I’d be mortified.”

He frowns. “Why?”

I shake my head. It would be utterly humiliating to sit while being served by the same people I work—worked—with.

“We’ll order up to your sitting room, then.”

“Is that appropriate? I mean, for us to be there together, alone.”

He puts a hand over his heart, expression shocked. “Why, Jessamin, you’d try to take advantage of me?”

I scowl and kick his cane out so that he misses a step. He laughs.

“Fine. We’ll order up.”

Thankfully, it’s Ma’ati who delivers our meal. She beams at me, curtsying and keeping her eyes low. Finn thanks her profusely and tells her that the cook is exemplary. On her way out, she winks and I want to strangle her.

I stab sullenly at my food. All the times I helped prepare and serve it has made it far less palatable than I thought it would be.

Finn clears his throat but I interrupt him before he can speak. “And another thing,” I say, jabbing my fork through the air. “This ability is utterly wasted on the gentry. As far as I’ve seen, all you do with magic is make it dull and uninteresting, or utterly horrendous. It would be better off in the hands of more creative users.”

He has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry magic is such a disappointment.”

“It’s very disheartening.” I try my hardest not to smile. “I’d do more exciting things if I had it.”

He leans back, toying with his silverware. “Such as?”

“I don’t know. I’d make this accursed country warm, for one. Blast away some of this dreadful gray that seeps into my bones and makes me cold all the time.”

“You think us far more powerful than we actually are.”

“See? Disappointing.”

“It’s true, it’s not very exciting. I mainly studied healing magic. The mending of bones, the repair of the body. Not very glamorous.”

I flex my fingers. “That’s how you worked up the glove so quickly. But you said ‘studied.’ Why did you stop? Too middle class for a nobleman to be playing at doctor?”

His smile effectively shuts him off from me, tight as a mask. “I found my interests shifted significantly when I had to come to Avebury.”

We spend the rest of the meal in silence. But when he stands to leave, his mask drops off into mischievousness. “I have a gift for you.”

“No more gifts!”

“You’ll want this one.” He hurries to a side table and lights a lamp there. Muttering to himself like I do when working out a particularly complex equation, he blocks my view with his body. After a minute, he turns around, a perfect sphere of glowing brightness hovering above his palm. It looks like a miniature sun.

“There! I can’t fix the whole country, and it will only last a few days, but I present you with the sun, on behalf of my dreadfully boring magic.”

He bows low, holding out his hand. I reach out tentatively, afraid of being burned, but the globe merely hovers above my hand where I slide it on top of Finn’s. It’s golden and deliciously warm and instantly makes me happier and more at ease than I’ve been in weeks.

I laugh, delighted, and by the look on Finn’s face you’d think
I
was the one who had given
him
an absurd and wonderful gift.

Eighteen

TWO DAYS LATER, I SIT IN ELEANOR’S PARLOR
drinking the sourest lemonade in the history of liquids. The birds have not followed me here. Neither has Finn, for once.

“Sorry,” Eleanor says. “I am afraid Mrs. Jenkins is at a loss for what to serve to someone who dislikes tea. She’s not good at improvisation.”

“It’s very fresh.” My voice squeezes out from my tortured throat.

“I am glad you stopped by, though! I have so much news.”

“I had to figure out somewhere Finn—” When I use his first name, Eleanor’s eyebrows raise slyly, and I realize I’ve given her more gossip. “
Lord Ackerly
wouldn’t come. He’s been like a shadow.” I pause, “Well. I mean less literally, of course. He waits outside the hotel when I leave in the morning, no matter which part I try to sneak out of. He haunts the library, insists on walking me through the park, joins me for every meal.”

Eleanor stirs her third heaping spoonful of sugar into her tea, a dreamy smile on her face. “That’s wonderful.”

“No, it’s not! He’s hovering.” Not that he’s not good company, it’s just that I have no say in the matter. I glare at my shadow, though I know he can only be either listening or watching. He assures me he does neither.

“You should hear what Arabella Crawford had to say when she heard that he’d shadowed you. You’ll remember her from the gala—encased in her shiny, black dress like a sausage?”

A note of panic sounds in my ears. “How did she hear?”

“I told her, of course.”

“But Finn threatened you! Oh, no. I’ll forbid him from cursing you, but I can’t say how much he’ll listen.” After Hugh missed two important exams, I asked Finn to remove the curse early. He felt I was entirely too forgiving, but when I heard Hugh crying softly in his carrel I couldn’t help but relent.

Eleanor laughs. “Silly girl. Self-preservation is a skill of mine. I would never cross Lord Ackerly. At least not in a way he’s likely to discover. No, he told me to tell.”

“He
what
?”

“The morning after that horrid business with Lord Downpike, your
Finn
came for a visit and asked if I would please tell everyone I could possibly think of that he had shadowed you. I was to spread it like the gossip of the season, which was no great task, because it is.”

“But—I thought he—well, the night of the gala, he only spoke to me in secret. And the past two days we have gone nowhere where your crowd would see us. I assumed he was . . .”

“Ashamed?”

Blushing, I nod.

“If he is, he has an odd way of showing it. There isn’t a cousin-of-a-cousin-of-a-noble that has not heard about it now.”

I don’t know what to do with this information. The way he has been acting, and now to so openly claim me . . . but why spread the word among people whom I don’t know? Why not talk to me about it? Perhaps it is a step on the way to regaining his shadow.

That’s what I want, of course. To be rid of my involvement in the entire matter. Whatever political tension there is here, whatever designs Albion has on the Iverian continent, it’s nothing to do with me.

My eyes flick to my shadow, and I realize I cannot remember exactly how it looked before the edges were blurred.

Eleanor continues chatting about the various stunned and devastated reactions among eligible girls who had long been pining after untouchable Lord Ackerly, obviously taking great pleasure in their dismay.

“Oh, that reminds me, I’ve been clearing out my wardrobe and I came across another dress I thought you might like. I’ll have it sent to your room at the Grande Sylvie.”

I nod dumbly. “Thank you. You’ve been so kind.”

She laughs, a private smile on her face. “Yes, I am
very
kind.”

That evening after she has lent me her carriage for the ride back to the hotel, I find a letter from Mama. I also find Sir Bird with a note from Finn. Apparently, Sir Bird has been rebelling against book form, and taken to chasing Finn around his library, pecking at his hands. Finn thought some time apart would be good for both of them, so long as I do not take Sir Bird out without him.

I laugh, picturing Sir Bird terrorizing stately Finn. “Good boy,” I murmur, emptying my pockets of brass buttons and coins I’ve been collecting, and Sir Bird caws contentedly as he begins sorting them.

I sit on the brushed-velvet chaise longue. The room is wonderful, I will admit that, but I feel false staying in it and insist on taking care of my own linens and cleaning. The bright side is giving Ma’ati extra free time, but a large part of this is an effort to avoid the ire of the chambermaids, who whisper poisonous things.

“You’ve put me in an impossible situation,” I say to my shadow. “I had a hard enough time fitting in with my peers before. Now I am neither here nor there with any class. It is very inconsiderate of you.” I pause. “While I am thinking of it, your tie yesterday was ghastly. You shouldn’t wear brown. I much prefer the blue one. And stay out of my room.”

I turn to the letter, which is written in Alben. I sigh, wondering whether Mama speaks it at home without me there anymore. As usual, I supply my own interpretations of what she says.

Dearest Jessamin,

I have not had a letter from you in a month.
(You are a terrible daughter.)
I blame the slowness of the boats and hate the distance between us.
(How could you leave me?)

Your cousin Jacabo responded to my inquiries after your well-being with only the vaguest of terms.
(I threatened Jacky Boy if he did not update me on your life.)
I take this to mean you have seen him regularly and have also forbidden him from updating me on your life in the big city.
(Why are you spending your time with him when he is clearly not running in the right circles?)

How are your studies? Have you met anyone interesting?
(Why have you not given me news of your father?)

I suspect you do not write because you have found someone.
(Please, please tell me you have found someone.)
I know it.
(I beg the spirits for it each night.)
A mother can feel these things.
(I will drag you back to the island and force you into marriage if you do not take care of it yourself.)
Please tell me whether he is of a good family and when I can expect happy tidings to share with my friends.
(Do not do anything I cannot crow about to the neighbors.)
I knew you would not be on your own for long.
(Give me grandchildren. Soon.)
Dear Henry has asked after you, though, so if you are lonely you know you have many options here.
(I pestered Henry until he finally asked after you and took it as a sign he still wishes to marry you.)

Write me soon or I will perish for want of daughterly affection.
(You are a terrible daughter.)

All my love,
(All my love,)

Mama

I compose in my head:

Dear Mama,

Am being stalked by not one but two men of exceptionally high birth. One is a madman who tortured me and promised to make me love him forever. The other is a madman who gave me his shadow and lives to make my life difficult. No doubt you would be pleased, but I intend to deny you grandchildren for the foreseeable future. Henry is a dear, but I suspect the only reason his parents were willing to consider me for his bride was that he does not, in fact, like women at all. In place of comforting news about my marriageability and future grandchildren, please know I have adopted a bird. You would like him.

Much love,

Hopeless Jessamin

A knock at my door distracts me from fictional letter writing. I open it to find Simon holding a garment bag and a letter. He bows, and I knock his cap off his head. “Don’t start that nonsense with me. Come in and have a biscuit, or I’ll box your ears.”

Grinning, he picks up his cap, bouncing on his toes and nervous to be in the room. I realize I cannot explain why I have a large black bird in my room, but Sir Bird has elected to be a book again. Simon sets the bag on the edge of my bed.

“Is that man around?” I ask. “The one who’s been following me?”

“Lord Ackerly? Yes. He said you’d have a book for me to deliver to him? The letter is from him, too. He tips something handsome, Miss Jessamin. Everyone likes him.”