Illusions of Fate

The porch is crowded with purple-uniformed guards. “Lord Finley Ackerly?”

“Yes.”

“You are under arrest for the murder of Milton Miller and the attempted murder of Lord Downpike, minister of defense, as well as high treason against Her Majesty, the Queen.”

Thirty-one

THE GUARD NEAREST THE FRONT, A BRICK WALL OF a man, frowns. “If you do not come willingly, we’ll use force.”

“This is insane!” I step forward, trying to put myself between Finn and the guards. I don’t know if they can enter his home. I hope not. “He hasn’t murdered anyone! I was with him all afternoon. Milton Miller is alive. I’m his daughter,” I add, desperately grasping for some sort of authority.

The guard’s stony gray eyes do not shift from their stern, impassive glance. “I am sorry to inform you, miss, that Professor Miller was shot to death in his office. We have witnesses.”

“Then they will tell you that I was in his office, too, and when we left my father was alive!”

The guards share a look, a silent nod passing between the two nearest me. They take out a second pair of wrist irons. “We’ll have to take you in as well, on suspicion of being an accomplice.”

“No.” The voice chills my blood, and the guards part to let Lord Downpike through to the front. His suit is artfully disheveled, a single plum-colored bruise standing in dark contrast on his forehead. “I will vouch for the girl. When Lord Ackerly attacked she was clearly under a heavy charm. She stood in the corner as though seeing nothing. No reason to let him take her down with him.”

Finn shakes his head, as cool as the marble beneath our feet. “You will not get away with this, Downpike.”

“With bringing you to justice? Of course I will. Officer, when you search his jacket you will find a series of confidential letters I wrote to Professor Miller answering his scholarly questions about the nature of our defenses against continental attacks. Lord Ackerly, you have finally been exposed for the Saxxone spy that you are. By queen and country, I will see you hanged.”

“No! It’s him, it’s always been him!” I point to Lord Downpike, who smiles with false pity.

“Lord Ackerly, please release your hold on this poor child’s emotions or we will be forced to lock her up as well.”

Finn puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. He’s calm, too calm, and I cannot handle it, my heart will not take it. “Tell them! Tell them it’s all lies, that Lord Downpike is behind everything! He must have killed my father after we left. They will find his . . .” I pause. The fingerprints. Finn took his gun out of the drawer. And he still has the letters in his jacket. “Please,” I whisper. “Let’s run.”

Finn tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger on my neck, then leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “I cannot allow them to break the barrier on the house. If Downpike has enough help he can do it. Don’t leave. Don’t allow anyone in.”

He turns from me, and I grab his hand. “No! Finn, please!”

He whispers a word and taps his cane against the ground and I find myself fighting through the air as though it were a solid thing, unable to follow him.

He has rendered me powerless to help him, and I cannot forgive that.

Lord Downpike exhales softly when Finn crosses the line of the door and then smiles at me, his pale eyes flashing black. “Break his cane.”

A soldier takes it from Finn, snapping it across his knee. There’s a hollow, popping sound and all the soldiers wiggle their jaws to clear their ears. I fall forward onto my knees as I’m released. I expect to see a physical change in Finn, but if anything he stands taller, prouder. The soldiers cuff his wrists behind him, and he doesn’t turn around as they walk him away.

Lord Downpike hangs back, standing just outside the threshold of the door. I want to throw myself out, to run and take Finn back, but he blocks my way.

My voice trembles with rage. “The truth will come out. Besides, you need him alive.”

“For such a noble principle, truth is a fragile, malleable thing. As for needing him, you underestimate yourself in this equation.”

I laugh hollowly. “If you think I have any information you will be sorely disappointed. I can’t reveal something he never told me.”

“Then come with me and we’ll discover the truth together. If you’re as worthless as you claim, you can be finished with this whole game. I’ll let you run free, little rabbit. I can be merciful.”

I narrow my eyes, gripping the door handle. “When I destroy you—and I will destroy you—please believe I will offer no such mercy.” I slam the door in his face.

“Is there nothing your uncle can do? What about someone else? Surely among all the nobles there’s someone who can stand up and cut through the web of lies!” I throw the paper down on the table, the headline LORD ACKERLY: SAXXONE SPY AND MURDERER, CROWDS CALL FOR IMMEDIATE HANGING carving a hole in my chest from where it leers at me.

“I’m trying.” Eleanor’s voice is tight with strain. “Uncle will not get involved.”

“Have you had a letter back from him, then?” Ernest asks.