Illusions of Fate
I am writing to inform you of the whereabouts of a certain book which frequently doubles as a bird. I understand you are concerned about it, and no wonder! Such a large volume containing so much knowledge. In fact, I believe it is actually several volumes in one, due to the rather impressive appetite of said bird in devouring many of its comrades.
Perhaps you will recall that I left your home without a word of good-bye, and for this you must pardon my poor manners. I find myself averse to being trapped in doorless rooms, to say nothing of being methodically tortured. It is a character defect owing to my savage ancestry.
To atone, I have entrusted the book into the care of your friend Lord Ackerly. He assures me that he will keep the volume perfectly safe, so long as I myself remain unmolested and left entirely to my own devices. To this end, he has worked a magical connection that will destroy the book should I meet harm at your lordship’s hands, or anyone working on behalf of your lordship, as your lordship’s time is precious and sometimes these things must be delegated.
Looking forward to never meeting again,
Jessamin Olea
I sign a flourish under my name, and then shake out my hand. “The pins and needles are worse.”
“Because you are remembering what happened, and the magic has to work harder to combat the memory of pain.” Finn is reading the letter over my shoulder with a scowl.
“How is it that you have such dark eyebrows and yet your hair is golden?”
“Oh, that,” Eleanor says, tucked up into the corner of the love seat with a shawl draped over her legs. She’s still recovering from her own encounter with Lord Downpike. “Hadn’t you guessed? You already discovered he uses a very potent charm spell. It’s woven into his hair. Some would consider constantly charming everyone a bit of an excess, but Lord Ackerly needs all the help he can get.”
“Such vanity.” I tsk, trying to hold back a smile. No wonder his hair was both so enchanting and so aggravating.
“This will never work.” Finn shakes his head.
“Of course it will. You said that the most powerful practitioners are the ones who study. Would he risk losing so much knowledge?” I stroke Sir Bird’s head where he sits next to me, picking apart a biscuit.
“But I can’t just magic up a connection between the two of you. Even if I have a spell that can accomplish it, it would take me several days of research to find and prepare it.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that! As far as Lord Downpike is concerned, a wealth of his magical lore is intricately tied to my own well-being. I’ll give you Sir Bird to complete the ruse.” Sir Bird caws in protest. “Hush. It’s for the best. And if Finn does not take perfect care of you, we will plot his destruction together.”
“I think she’s done it,” Eleanor says. “She’s cleverer even than you.”
Finn’s scowl deepens. “This will do nothing but delay him. He will not stop until he extends his power past Albion and into the entire Iverian continent. His end goals are far larger than a few lost books of magical knowledge.”
“That is your problem, not mine.” I take the letter and blot it dry, then crease it shut.
“Please.” Finn’s voice has lost the arrogance it normally carries. Instead, it conveys a note of . . . desperation? “You may be cavalier with your own safety, but I can’t forget the sound of your screams. They will haunt me to my dying day. I couldn’t live with it if something else were to happen to you.”
His hand is flat on the table, and I want to lay my own on top of his. Eleanor sighs dreamily, and I am snapped back to reality. “I’m sorry. But if I agree to run and hide I would only be giving him control of my life.”
“You’d be safe from him!”
“No, I’d be as much a captive to my fear of him as I was when I was locked in that room. I refuse to be ruled, whether by those with bad intentions or those with good.” I grab a small candle with deep red wax and dribble it onto the letter’s fold to seal it shut.
Finn slides it away from my hand and then lowers his knuckle to press a large, gold ring into the wax seal. It leaves a symbol of two trees, the branches intertwining with each other. It must be his family crest.
“It’s done, then.” He scowls. “He won’t doubt my part in it, false though it is.”
“I’ll have Carlisle send it out immediately.” Eleanor stands and takes the letter, leaving us alone.
My head lolls against the couch. I have never been so tired in my life. Finn paces the floor, hands clasped behind his back.
“Will you at least agree to stay in my town house? It’s very near your school.”
I let myself imagine how soft his beds must be, how luxurious the sheets. And a washroom all to myself.
No. I will not become Mama, dependent on a man who thinks himself better than her and grateful for the privilege of his condescension. “Thank you, no. I’m comfortable at the hotel.”
“I’ve seen servants’ quarters, Jessamin. You cannot be comfortable there.”
“A great many people live in servants’ quarters, and they have yet to die from acute claustrophobia. I’m fine. Stop pacing, you make my nerves stand on end.”