Illusions of Fate
“Yes, fine.”
“But there are some . . . aspects . . . that we still do not understand and that are beyond our control. Much like the potential being in blood. Some generations are skipped entirely, some people are born with far greater capabilities for no apparent reason. Many believe that a good deal of what we access exists outside of us, all the time. We can find evidence of it, in things like . . .” He pauses. “Well, in things like the cards. No reading is ever the same, and the interpretations vary. It lacks the precision of the more learned methods, but there is something elemental about it, something that we cannot control or change.”
I don’t hold back an unladylike snort. “Pretty pictures on a card tell the future.”
“I know how it sounds. I was resistant to it as well, but my mother—” His voice catches, and he clears his throat. “She was gifted with the cards and taught me what she could. I have had the evidences I need.”
“Will your mother tell me my fortune as well?”
Something shifts in Finn’s eyes at my snide tone, and he looks farther away. “She’s dead. My father, too.”
Badly done, Jessamin. I cringe. “I’m sorry. But you have still said nothing of shadows.”
His jaw twitches, whether with annoyance or amusement I do not know him well enough to say. “Your professors must be constantly exhausted.”
I smile. “I do try.”
His tone shifts from a pedantic, scholarly drone to a rushed tumble of words, as though by saying them faster, I will understand them less. “Shadows go in front of you, leading into your future, and trail behind you, leaving a part of you in the past. They are clearest when we are in the light, and disappear when we lose ourselves in darkness. When a shadow elects to jump to another person, it is an indication that they are your present and your future, that in light you will find them, in darkness you will lose them. It is highly unusual and very important and, might I add, extremely dangerous for the owner of the shadow.
“I have always been able to use mine as an extension of myself, in a form like Lord Downpike’s familiars, but much more stable because it’s actually a part of me. Thus separated, both myself and my shadow are vulnerable to attack. The fact that I have lost it represents Lord Downpike’s greatest opportunity to manipulate and blackmail me, and surely you understand now why it is best for you to be secreted away.”
I frown, trying to process the rush of information. “You mean . . . it would be safer for you if I went away.”
“For both of us, naturally. We are connected.”
I throw my hands in the air, beyond exasperated. “We’ve already discussed this! Take it back! I don’t want it!”
“I cannot! I would not even if I could!”
“Why not, you daft boy? I never asked you to grace me with your precious shadow or to give up your future and past and whatever other nonsense that accompanies it!”
“If you had asked, I wouldn’t have given it to you! I couldn’t have! It is precisely because you are so maddening that I had no other—”
Eleanor’s voice sounds unnaturally loud from the entryway. We both freeze. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit, Lord Downpike?”
Fifteen
A PIT OF TERROR OPENS IN MY STOMACH. “ELEANOR betrayed us,” I whisper. I cannot face Lord Downpike again, not now, not with the memory of my pain so fresh.
“She’s warning us,” Finn hisses, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward a large armoire tucked into the corner. He opens it and we climb in. He has to stoop, and only by tucking myself into him, my back against his chest, can we both be hidden with the door shut.
My breath is fast and ragged. The walls are closing in on us. The flimsy wood that conceals us is not enough, not enough to block Lord Downpike’s piercing black eyes. He will see through and then—
“Shh,” Finn breathes, his lips next to my ear. He puts both arms around me and pulls me in closer. “I will kill him before he touches you again.”
I close my eyes and mentally recite the quadratic equation in an effort to slow my heart. Maybe they will leave without ever coming in this room.
The door to the parlor opens. “In here is quite adequate,” Lord Downpike says.
Finn tightens his arms around my waist and they are
all that keep me on my feet. No. I can accept hiding, but certainly not cowering. I’m better than this. I squeeze Finn’s hand to let him know that I am in control of myself. He does not loosen his grasp.
“Tea?” Eleanor’s voice is as cheerful as ever.
“I see you have already had visitors.”
“Oh, is the chocolate still here? My cousin was by this morning. I should think the maid would have cleared it by now. No matter, here is Mr. Carlisle with the tea. Mr. Carlisle, would you please remove the cups left out from this morning? We cannot have Lord Downpike thinking I keep an untidy house.”