“MISS SCRIVENER?”
Elisabeth started and looked up. Ashcroft stood beside her, and Nathaniel’s coach was out of sight. She received the impression that the Chancellor had been speaking to her for some time now, but she hadn’t heard a single word. She stammered out an apology, followed by a series of disjointed thank-yous for everything he had said during the speech, none of which seemed to make very much sense even to her own ears.
His expression softened. “Don’t worry about any of that. Why don’t you come inside?”
She followed him into the manor, and her eyes widened in wonderment. All the chandeliers were lit, throwing a liquid shine from the polished marble and gilded stuccowork. Mirrors in elaborate gold frames reAected the light from every angle. Servants in matching golden livery hurried to and fro, pausing to bow in their direction.
“You will be safe here,” Ashcroft said. “The grounds are heavily warded; there hasn’t been an intruder on the property in hundreds of years. In fact, in the seventeenth century, Ashcroft Manor even repelled an army.”
With the manor’s radiance shimmering across his blond hair and handsome features, the Chancellor resembled a hero from the pages of a storybook. Shyness gathered around Elisabeth like a layer of tulle, gau>y and unfamiliar. For once, she had to muster the courage to speak. “Sir, what was it that Nathaniel didn’t tell me?”
“Ah. I see you overheard.” A smile played about his mouth. “Well, he insisted on being the one to escort you from Summershall. It sounds as though you left quite the impression on him last spring—he was utterly
convinced of your innocence. Nathaniel so rarely believes the best of people, I didn’t have the heart to deny his request.”
Surprise rendered her speechless. She glanced reAexively toward the windows, but the coach was long gone. Nathaniel had been concerned about her? That seemed impossible. He certainly hadn’t shown any sign of it. Had he?
“Ah, Mr. Hob!” Ashcroft called out to a passing butler. “I see you’ve brought Miss Scrivener’s things upstairs. Would you show her to her room?” He turned back to Elisabeth. “Miss Scrivener, I’m afraid my duties beckon. However, I would like to discuss the Summershall incident with you tomorrow. If there’s any information you can give me—anything at all that you think might have caused the saboteur to target you last night—it would be of great help to our investigation.”
She nodded, then hesitated as the butler led her toward the stairs. She did have information to give him; she was the only person who knew that the sabotage had been carried out by a sorcerer. Why not tell him now, rather than waiting until tomorrow? It would only take a moment. She paused on the bottom step, feeling dwarfed by the expanse of white marble and gilded banisters. “Sir?”
Ashcroft turned, his ruby eye catching the light of the chandeliers. He didn’t look annoyed, only politely questioning, but her conviction faltered. Ferhaps now wasn’t the right time, after all—not with the butler and all the other servants listening.
“Where is your demonic servant?” she asked instead.
Ashcroft looked faintly surprised. “I keep her out of sight during the day, since demons upset my wife, Victoria. It’s for the best. Lorelei has always served me faithfully, but one should never allow oneself to grow familiar with the creatures. It’s best not to forget that they only obey us because they are bound to. Sorcerers have paid dearly for that mistake.”
“Like Nathaniel’s father,” she said tentatively.
“Ah . . . well.” His face clouded. “I don’t know the full story. Only that there were certain . . .” He shook his head. “Alistair was a good man. He wasn’t himself at the end. I wouldn’t wish to speak ill of the dead.”
Elisabeth turned his words over in her head as she followed the butler upstairs. What had Ashcroft meant to say before he’d trailed oP?
She couldn’t begin to fathom the bond between Nathaniel and Silas— how it was possible for Nathaniel to be so friendly with him not only knowing what he was, but after what he had done. And yet—Silas didn’t seem to have ever hurt the younger Master Thorn. Why hadn’t Silas taken advantage of the opportunity to harm him when he was only twelve years old, vulnerable and afraid?
She frowned, shoving the thoughts aside. She shouldn’t waste time thinking about Nathaniel. It was none of her business if he wanted to risk his life trusting a demon.
“Your room, miss,” the butler said, stopping outside a door. His voice was muddy-sounding, as if he had difficulty speaking. She looked up at him in surprise, and felt a twinge of unease. He was a huge man, solidly built, and considerably taller than even Elisabeth, which made him the tallest person she had ever seen. His suit 1t oddly, and his ga>e was curiously unfocused in a waxy face.
A rosy-cheeked servant bustled over, looking Austered. Flyaway strands of mousy brown hair wisped free from her bun. “Oh, good gracious, you’re Miss Scrivener, aren’t you? Come along, come along—I’m Hannah, dear, and I’m going to look after you while you’re a guest here in the manor. Thank you, Mr. Hob.”
Mr. Hob nodded and slumped oP.
“Don’t worry about old Mr. Hob,” Hannah whispered, noticing Elisabeth’s stare. “He had a 1t some years ago that robbed him of most of his speech, but Master Ashcroft still hired him on when no one else would. A very decent thing to do, and Mr. Hob’s as harmless as a Ay, though he does sometimes give people a fright if they aren’t used to him.”
Shame Aushed Elisabeth’s cheeks. She resolved not to stare at the butler again, or to be afraid of him. Obediently, she followed Hannah into the room.
At 1rst she couldn’t conceive that this was a bedroom. She felt as though she had walked into an ice sculpture. Everything had been painted, upholstered, or embroidered in delicate shades of silver and white. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, reAected in the vanity mirror. The furniture was carved with elaborate Aourishes and curlicues that reminded Elisabeth of the patterns that frost formed on windowpanes during
Austermeer’s coldest months; the knobs were made of solid crystal. Most astonishingly of all, a sapphire gown had been laid across the bed, waiting for her. Amid all of the wintry colors, its deep, lustrous blue stood out like a gem against snow.
“There must be a mistake,” she said. Carefully, marvelingly, she touched the vanity table, half expecting it to vanish like an illusion in an enchanted castle. Next she eyed the gown askance, feeling as though it too might disappear if she looked at it directly. “That dress doesn’t belong to me. I’ve never worn clothing so 1ne.”
“Nonsense. Master Ashcroft is entertaining company tonight, and you will be expected to look presentable. Just be grateful we were able to 1nd something close to your si>e, miss. There was such a fuss this morning, such a terrible fuss. Fortunately Lady Victoria’s niece is traveling abroad, and she’s an awfully tall young woman as well. We were able to borrow a few pieces of her wardrobe and make adjustments in the nick of time.”
Elisabeth’s attention had snagged on a single word. “Company?” she asked.
“You cannot expect such a great man to spend every evening at his leisure. Several members of Farliament, and their wives, are joining him for dinner.”
Her pulse quickened. “Are they sorcerers?”
Hannah gave her an odd look. “No, dear. Master Ashcroft’s guests are from the Pavliament, not the Magisterium—and a good thing, too. I haven’t the nerves for all those demons. I know they’re necessary, but they’re such unnatural creatures.” She shuddered, and didn’t notice the way Elisabeth relaxed. “Now, let’s get this old dress oP you Just look at that scratch on
your shoulder, you poor girl ”
An eternity later, Elisabeth had been groomed within an inch of her life. Her skin felt tender from Hannah’s scrubbing, and the long, hot bath in the claw-foot tub had left her 1ngertips as wrinkled as dried apricots. Her scalp alternately stung and throbbed from the torture Hannah had inAicted upon it with a comb. She smelled faintly, and unsettlingly, of gardenias.
Files of sapphire silk rustled around her body as Hannah fastened the gown in place. It was beautiful, but it had a great deal of extra fabric; Elisabeth felt as though she were swimming in her own miniature sea. Then Hannah began to lace the corset up the back, and Elisabeth’s breath hitched.
“I cannot breathe,” she said, scrabbling at her chest.
Hannah 1rmly took her hands and set them aside. “It’s the fashion, miss.”
Elisabeth was deeply alarmed by the idea that not breathing was fashionable. “What if I have to run,” she said, “or 1ght something?”
“In the master’s house?” Hannah sounded shocked. “I know you’ve had some dreadful experiences lately, dear, but it’s best if you keep such thoughts to yourself. That kind of talk is quite irregular for a young lady. Why, just look at you.”
She wheeled Elisabeth around to face the mirror. Elisabeth stared at the girl reAected there, barely recogni>ing herself. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in smooth, glossy chestnut waves, and she was cleaner than she had ever been before in her life. Her blue eyes contrasted vividly against her pink, scrubbed cheeks. While she had never possessed much in the way of curves, the sapphire gown made her 1gure look proud and statuesque. Just libe the Divectov, she thought, with a tightness in her throat. Even the gown’s color reminded her of a warden’s uniform. She didn’t understand why it was irregular to talk about 1ghting—not when she looked the way she did.
“How lovely,” Hannah sighed. “The blue brings out your eyes, doesn’t it?”
Elisabeth smoothed her hands wonderingly over the dress’s silky fabric.
“I daresay it’s time to bring you down for dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll take you there. It’s awfully easy to get lost in this house—oh, dear, don’t trip! Just lift the gown up a bit if you have to ”
Twilight now painted the grounds in shades of indigo and violet, but inside the manor remained as bright as day. Ferfume wafted through the halls, mingling with the fragrance of lilies arranged in vases on every table. When Hannah ushered Elisabeth into the dining room, its da>>le made spots bloom across her vision. Light shone from everything: the silver utensils, the jewels shivering like giant raindrops on the ladies’ ears, the rims of champagne glasses as guests turned to see who had just entered.
Ashcroft was deep in conversation on the other side of the room, but a beautiful, frail-looking woman rushed over to Elisabeth and introduced herself as Ashcroft’s wife, Victoria. Her auburn curls were piled atop her head in an intricate sweep, and she had a habit of self-consciously touching the string of pearls around her neck, as if to reassure herself that it was still there.
With her light, nervous movements and glistening silver gown, she reminded Elisabeth of the dove that had nested in the stonework outside her and Katrien’s room one spring, warbling anxiously whenever one of them stuck their head outside.
“I’m afraid Oberon can’t get away from Lord and Lady Ingram,” she said, smiling warmly. “Why don’t I take you around and introduce you to some people before we take a seat? Everyone’s so excited to have a look at you. They’ve read all about you in the papers.”
Elisabeth spent the next several minutes being paraded around the room, learning the names of various important-looking people and attempting to curtsy at them, with mixed results. Eventually she gave up and explained that curtsying had not been included in her lectures at the Great Library, a statement that was, for some reason, met with peals of laughter. She smiled along, reali>ing they thought she’d made a joke.
Soon Ashcroft rang a fork against his glass. Silence fell as he stepped to the head of the table, and a servant pressed a champagne Aute into Elisabeth’s hand. She listened raptly as the Chancellor proceeded to give a speech on progress, comparing the new advances in coal, steam power, and natural gas to sorcery. “Like magic,” he said, “technology frightens those to whom its inner workings remain a mystery, but for the sake of advancement, humanity must embrace change with open arms. I have always believed that sorcerers only hinder ourselves by living apart from commoners and conducting our aPairs in secrecy. I consider it my goal as Chancellor to bring sorcery out of darkness, and into the light.”
Gasps rang out as a golden radiance 1lled the room, far brighter than the candles. The sprays of lilies arranged across the tables had begun to glow, each delicate stamen bla>ing incandescently, bathing the guests’ faces in a twinkling, ethereal light.
Ashcroft spoke over the applause. “To progress,” he said, raising his glass.
Elisabeth copied the other guests and took a tentative sip of the champagne. It tasted sourer than she expected, but its bubbles 1>>ed down her throat and fanned embers in her stomach. She smiled and clapped, swept along on a bright tide of happiness that lasted through the dinner. Servants came in with trays of a fragrant green soup and white 1sh Aoating in an herb sauce, followed by platters of gla>ed pheasant and venison on beds of
asparagus. She had never eaten anything so sublime. She polished oP her seconds and was working her way through thirds—“I suppose you ave very tall, dear,” said Lady Ingram charitably—when someone mentioned Nathaniel’s name near the head of the table. Elisabeth stopped chewing to listen.
“He must consider marriage promptly, of course, for the sake of Austermeer,” one of the politicians was booming emphatically, slurred with drink. “Yes, yes, he is only eighteen—but Her Majesty the Queen is growing apprehensive. What if we were to have another war, and no Thorn to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies?” He banged his 1st on the table, making the silverware rattle.
“Lord Kicklighter, we are hardly in danger of a war,” someone else put in.
Lord Kicklighter’s mustache quivered indignantly. “A nation is always in danger of a war! If not now, then in 1fty years! And if Magister Thorn fails to produce an heir, what then? We haven’t the population to defend ourselves against Founderland.”
Elisabeth frowned and turned to Lady Ingram. “That man is speaking of Nathaniel as though he’s livestock.”
Lady Ingram sniPed. “Men like Magister Thorn have a responsibility to marry, especially now that he has no surviving relatives,” she replied. “Baltasar Thorn’s grimoire of necromancy will only open for those of his line, which means that Nathaniel is presently the only sorcerer who can read it. His complete disinterest in courtship has put everyone in government on edge.”
“Unsavory, in my opinion,” another man was muttering. “To resort to undead hordes in place of good Austermeerish men—”
“—yet it is a last resort, you understand, and it has kept the peace since the War of Bones—”
“But what about what happened to poor Alistair? Surely his fate is a sign that necromancy is a relic of the middle ages, not a weapon for the modern era.” A Aurry of scandali>ed murmuring followed this pronouncement.
“Such a tragedy, the loss of the younger brother,” a woman sighed from the other end of the table. “We do not even know if Magister Thorn possesses an intevest in ladies. He has never danced with a girl at the Royal Ball. If only Maximilian were still alive, there would be less of a fuss about carrying on the family name.”
Elisabeth gritted her teeth. “But—”
Another woman, Lady Childress, had been watching Elisabeth keenly for some time now. “You call him by his 1rst name, dear,” she interrupted. “That’s quite familiar.” At once, every head turned in Elisabeth’s direction.
She had never felt self-conscious about her height before, but now she wished she were shorter, so that she wasn’t within view of every guest seated up and down the table. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She had not been aware that there was a rule against referring to a person one’s own age by their 1rst name. Truthfully, she’d thought Nathaniel called her “Scrivener” because he didn’t like her. She had the curdling reali>ation that if she aired any of those reali>ations out loud, they’d all think she was an idiot.
“Does he possess an interest in young ladies, then, Miss Scrivener?” Lady Childress prompted.
“I do not know,” Elisabeth replied, bristling. “He hasn’t told me. I suppose that means it isn’t any of my business.”
The arrival of the desserts allowed everyone to pretend that they hadn’t heard Elisabeth’s remark. She frowned as she accepted a heaping plateful of plum dumplings. Nathaniel’s cynical air was beginning to make more sense. She didn’t like to imagine how it must feel to have the private details of one’s life under constant scrutiny, knowing every facet of your existence was gossiped about at dinner parties across Austermeer.
She was grateful when Ashcroft steered the conversation away to a discussion about steam power, which she didn’t understand but found deeply fascinating. As her good mood returned, she polished oP a custard and a pair of plum dumplings. Before she knew it everyone was leaving, tottering a bit and smelling strongly of liquor while the servants helped them back into their coats. Elisabeth had had two glasses of champagne herself, and the manor wore a glittery sheen, as if tinsel had been draped around the windows and chandeliers.
She followed the guests to the foyer, but no one was paying attention to her any longer. Ashcroft stood outside, trying to extricate his digits from Lord Kicklighter’s enthusiastic handshake, and Victoria was deep in conversation with Lady Childress. Hannah was supposed to come collect her, yet the servant was nowhere in sight. A nearby clock indicated that it was almost one thirty in the morning. After a few minutes of waiting, Elisabeth
caught a glimpse of Hannah’s wispy bonnet bobbing down a hallway. She hurried after it, certain she would get lost in the manor if left to her own devices.
Hannah had a considerable head start, and Elisabeth soon discovered that she couldn’t run on the slick Aoors while wearing satin slippers. After a few turns, she lost sight of her quarry and found herself stranded in an unfamiliar hallway. The manor’s grandeur enfolded her in a shimmering world of marble, gold, and mirror-glass. With the champagne glowing inside her stomach like a newborn star, she felt as though she had wandered into a dream.
She paused to examine a 1ligreed sconce dripping with candle wax, then to trail her 1ngers over the features of a marble bust. The statue’s subject had been young and handsome, and she found herself wondering what Nathaniel was doing at that very moment. Was he alone in his cheerless mausoleum of a house, unable to sleep, with only a demon for company? Ferhaps she would see him again one day when she was a warden. But if she did, they wouldn’t be able to talk about the time they’d fought oP the 1ends or watched the moss spirit in the Blackwald. They would exchange a handful of perfunctory words as she escorted him to a reading room, no better than strangers.
A strain of music reached her ears, and she snatched her hand from the bust. Somewhere nearby, someone had begun to sing. The sound unspooled through the halls like a silver thread, achingly beautiful, its melody wordless and strange. It lodged a hook in Elisabeth’s heart, somehow seeming to express precisely the emotion of inarticulate longing that 1lled her. Helpless to resist its pull, she set oP in search of the source, drifting past parlors, a ballroom, a conservatory brimming with palms and orchids.
Finally, she stepped into a music room. An elegant woman stood beside a pianoforte, her face shadowed, turning a lily between her slender, lace-gloved 1ngers. Elisabeth hadn’t seen her at the dinner. She would have remembered. The woman had a fall of gleaming black hair that reached her waist, and she was dressed in an exquisite black gown against which her pale, perfect skin looked as white as candle wax. She stopped singing when Elisabeth entered; her 1ngers stilled, and the lily dropped to the carpet, forgotten.
“Hello, darling,” she said in a musical voice, stepping into the light. “I wondered how long it would take you to 1nd me.”
Elisabeth’s response died upon her lips as the woman’s scarlet, smiling mouth gave way to scarlet, unsmiling eyes.
She wasn’t a woman. She was a demon.
