Chapter 34

C HAPTER 34

"What a busy little bee you've been," her mother said. Her tone was light and her smile was amused and her eyes were as frozen as a glacier's heart. Cordelia recognized that combination. It had never been directed at her before.

"You're supposed to be up north," she said. She had thought that she was too exhausted to feel anything, but it seemed that terror was quite an effective antidote after all. "How… how are you…?"

"Silly child. Did you think I wouldn't come as soon as I felt the spells on Falada start to break?" Evangeline shook her head. She pointed to the ground and snapped her fingers. "Down."

As if I'm that dog that ran away, thought Cordelia, sliding off Falada's back. Her mother's scent reached her nose, sharp and dry and green. Her legs buckled immediately and she fell to her hands and knees in last year's leaves. Which I might as well be, for all the courage I'm showing.

And what good would courage do you? she answered herself. Particularly now?

"Those damnable ships don't leave when you want them to," her mother said musingly. "Tides are the same, no matter how willing the captain is to please." She scowled at Falada, running a fingertip along the ragged edge of the wound. "Stupid beast, letting them do this to you. I'll have to build you a whole new body now. Ugh. "

Cordelia found that it was easier to simply stay on the ground. She fell over on her side.

A boot nudged her ribs. "As for you…" Her mother's lips compressed into a flat line, even as her voice stayed light and conversational. "I suppose you thought you could strip a few spells off him, replace them, and take him from me? Make him your familiar instead?"

Cordelia blinked at her mother in astonishment. "W-what…?"

"It wouldn't have worked. The spells that go into a familiar are layered like an onion. You're luckier than you know." She laughed. "It's why I didn't let him anywhere near the church when we had the wedding. Even if it only took off the outer layers, it would have been inconvenient. Mind you, the layer for obedience to me is right at the center. If you'd gotten that far, he wouldn't be answerable to anyone at all. If you were very lucky, you might have gone too far and unsummoned him completely, but more likely he'd simply kill everyone. Of course, he wouldn't have looked much like a horse by then, so who knows what people would think had happened?"

Cordelia licked cracked lips. "He… he already killed someone…"

"Only one? My, you have been lucky, then." She slapped the familiar's flank. "Not lucky enough, though. I don't suppose it was the Squire's fool sister?"

Cordelia shook her head silently.

"Right. Up you get." She made a gesture and suddenly Cordelia was being pressed down, down into herself, and her body was rising and bracing her back against a tree trunk. Obedient, she thought, and wished that she could pass out.

Her mother bent down and began to rummage through a pack on the ground. "Now, let's see what that groom left in here… ah, here we go. Just the thing." She turned toward Cordelia, holding a penknife in one hand. "Now, then. You're going to tell me exactly what you were doing, and more importantly, who you told. Do you understand?"

Cordelia stared at the little knife in her mother's hand and thought, What? Is she going to stab me?

The obedience lapsed and she sagged against the tree. "I said, do you understand?"

I can't tell her anything. I won't. She can't read minds. "I haven't told anyone," she croaked. "It was all me. I wouldn't tell anyone."

Her mother sighed, looking disappointed. " Try not to be stupid, will you, dear? For me? Obviously you had help. You couldn't chop off a chicken's head, let alone Falada's. And he's already told me that there were more of you."

Cordelia gulped, her mind a blank. "I… I…"

"I can see we'll have to do this the hard way. Really, Cordelia."

Obedience gripped her again. She pushed herself back up. One hand went down, grabbed the edge of her skirt and lifted.

"Outer thigh, I think," her mother said, handing her the knife. "Your future husband won't see the scar until the wedding night, and it'll be too late by then."

She can't mean… she can't possibly mean…

Her obedient body rucked up handfuls of fabric, exposing her left leg. Her own hand set the blade against the skin a few inches from the knee.

"This hurts me more than it hurts you," her mother said, and then Cordelia felt the cold edge of the knife enter her skin.

She couldn't scream. That was the worst of it, somehow. If she could have screamed then she could have wedged the scream in between herself and the pain, but her body didn't scream, not even when the knife slipped, not even when she began sawing mindlessly away at her own flesh, cutting off a shallow triangle of skin and leaving a bloody flap that hurt and hurt and went on hurting, even after the obedience dropped and she dropped the knife and then fell over on her side, clutching her leg, and had no strength left to scream with.

"Tell me," said her mother, standing over her. "Tell me who knows."

Cordelia whimpered, curling in a tight ball around the pain, trying to contain it. There was nothing in the whole world except the pain and the choking smell of wormwood.

Fingers snapped next to her ear. "Cordelia," her mother said. "I don't want to have to get your attention again."

"It… it was… Lord Evermore," Cordelia gasped. She hated herself for saying it, but she needed to say something and it had been his estate, after all. She could hardly think through the pain.

Her mother groaned and ran a hand through her dark hair. "You had to spoil the engagement, too? Really? "

"I didn't… I…" Cordelia tried to think of something that her mother would believe. The pain made it hard to think. "He… he and… he… I…"

"Don't tell me you fell in love with him!"

The words were like a gift from heaven. The lie opened up in front of her and Cordelia plunged inside. "You were right," she whispered. If she pressed hard on the wound, it hurt a little less. "It's not like anything else I've ever felt. Being in love."

"Oh Cordelia." To her astonishment, her mother sat down next to her. "I tried to warn you. It's amazing, isn't it? But it doesn't last. And you do terribly foolish things when you're in love. And then you have to clean up the mess." She sighed, patting Cordelia on the shoulder. "I was certainly that way with your father."

"My f-father…?" The words seemed as if they should be important, but Cordelia didn't have the energy to spare to care.

Evangeline sighed. "You're hardly the first to make a fool of themselves for a man, believe me. I was young and I thought he'd have to marry me. But he never even considered it, just sent me away to the country and sent me money to keep me quiet. I held out hope for far too long, but I was so very much in love."

A week ago, I would have cared so much about this. And now I can't make myself care at all. Cordelia made a choked sound that would have been shocked laughter if there wasn't so much pain in the way.

"By the time I finally realized that he was never going to marry me, you were toddling around and clinging to Falada's tail." Her mother shook her head. "I almost killed you, too. It's so impossible to marry up with a brat in tow. And were you ever grateful?"

"… sorry…" whispered Cordelia, who had known her role in this play for a long time.

"I know." Evangeline stroked her hair. "And anyway, it will all come right, you'll see. You weren't a sorcerer and I realized that you could marry where I couldn't. Real money, not just sad little nobles like the Squire. I know it hurts now, but it'll be better this way. You'll see. Being wealthy is much better than being in love. If you'd ever been really poor, you'd know that." She squared her shoulders. "Now, who else knows?"

Cordelia swallowed. "He… he ordered the servants to help. It was in a book in his library. They didn't know what was going on, they just did what he said. Except the head gamekeeper." He's safely dead, she can't do anything to him. "Ev… Richard… told him. So he could help draw the circles. Then Falada killed him, and Richard chopped his head off." She began to cry, which didn't take any effort at all. "I didn't… I'm sorry…"

"I know you are," her mother said kindly. Evangeline picked up the penknife and tapped the hilt against her lower lip. "Now, are you sure you're telling me everything? Do you need another reminder?"

Cordelia cringed, desperately trying to think of something to distract her mother without getting someone else hurt. "Lady Imogene found the book," she said. "But she didn't believe it. She said it was nonsense." She closed her eyes, trying not to look at the knife. "She doesn't believe in sorcery, not really. And Lady Hester said that it's only good for cheating people buying livestock."

Her mother snorted. "Well, she's in for a surprise."

"W… what? What are you going to do?"

Evangeline put the knife away and relief poured over Cordelia like water. She felt like the worst kind of traitor. I just sold out Lord Evermore and now it sounds like Hester too even though I was trying not to and I shouldn't have but it hurt so much… Hot tears slid down her cheeks.

"Well, obviously Evermore must be dealt with. It's a shame, that's all. Such a good match. Still, the Squire says that he and that fool sister of his used to be in love, so it'll make perfect sense when she stabs him out of jealousy." Her mother sighed, shaking her head, and reached down to pull Cordelia to her feet. "And that way no one will expect a full year of mourning for a murderess. Yes, I think that'll work. Come on. Up, up. Time to deal with this before it gets too far out of hand."

Hester woke because someone was pounding on the door.

Her first thought was that no one ever pounded on her door. Mary would have gone after them with a tea tray if they tried. Maybe the house was on fire?

Her second thought was that Mary was still recuperating from her earlier encounter with Falada, had taken nerve pills and gone to bed. This did not rule out the house being on fire, but did explain why the pounding was going on.

Her third thought, as she swam toward consciousness, was that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing and Richard was curled up around her, snoring gently against the back of her neck.

Hester stared wide-eyed into the dark. She hadn't meant for that to happen. Come to think of it, she didn't think he'd meant for it to happen either. He had come to her room last night, hastily relocated to a small guest bedroom with more stairs but fewer glass doors, and asked if all was to her comfort.

"What, other than the monster terrorizing the grounds?" she asked dryly. "It's fine, of course. I'm hardly going to complain about the accommodations under the circumstances."

"Practical of you," he said, leaning against one of the tall bedposts. "I'm sorry this has happened."

"Don't be ridiculous." She set aside the book that she'd been trying, and failing, to read. "I'm the one who brought all this to your doorstep. It's my fault you've lost a good man."

He frowned at her. "Nothing of the sort. I was the one who failed to keep my people safe." His shoulders slumped and he no longer looked the least bit boyish.

"Against a monster."

"Against anything. What good is it, to be a lord, if you can't protect the people who rely on you?"

His voice cracked on the last word, and Hester started to get up, knee be damned, and then he closed the distance between them and dropped down at her feet, pressing his forehead against her leg.

"Richard…" She ran her fingers through his hair, guilty and heartbroken. This is my fault, even if he'd never blame me. I called him in to help me.

And then, a colder little voice, one that sounded a bit like her grandmother and a bit like Imogene, said, What utter tripe. The fault belongs to Doom and always has. It's her monster that's gone on a killing spree. If she hadn't murdered Penelope and ensnared Samuel, none of this would have happened at all.

Richard turned his head to look up at her. He was not a man who wept easily, but there was a suspicious redness to his eyes. "I could have lost you yesterday," he whispered. "I keep thinking of that. You could have died before I even knew you were in danger."

"But I didn't," said Hester. She stroked back the silver at his temples. Poor Evermore. He was no one's image of a warrior. He liked books on culverts and had strong opinions about crop rotations. He spent his life mostly trying to make things a little better for the people who depended on him, and for fifty years, that had required nothing more than listening closely to their problems and hiring good people to implement solutions.

"But I couldn't protect you. Hell, I couldn't even help Bernard." His laugh was more of a croak. "I couldn't hold up my end of the ritual. What good am I?"

She pulled him up and wrapped her arms around him, sinking her face into the crook of his neck and smelling starch and aftershave. "I'm here," she said, because that was the only thing she could think of to say. "I'm safe."

When he started to argue—because of course he started to argue—she kissed him.

They were both ten years older. Hester turned out the lamp and was glad of the darkness to hide another decade's hard use. Richard didn't seem to mind. She wished that she could look at him without being looked at in return, but that would have involved more conversation and what they both needed right now was comfort, not to go around the old arguments again.

And it was comfortable. Quick and somewhat furtive, of necessity, but familiar. Her body hadn't forgotten anything in the past decade. Neither, it seemed, had his.

The real prize came afterward, when he held her tightly, and she heard his breathing slowly even out and his grip relax as he slept. She told herself that she'd stay awake. It wouldn't do to be caught abed with another woman's fiancé, for God's sake, even a fake and temporary one. People would notice. There would be gossip.

She told herself this very firmly, and then fell immediately into the deepest sleep she'd had in ten years.

The pounding on the door that had woken her was growing in intensity. "Ma'am!" someone called through the door. "Lady Hester! Are you there?"

Alice? Cordelia's maid?

Hester sat up. Her movement woke Richard, who said, "Whuzzh? Huh?," and then his eyes snapped open.

Hester put a finger to her lips, then called, "Alice? Is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am! Please, open the door!"

Richard, with unexpected athleticism, rolled off the bed and under it. Hester grabbed a dressing gown and went to the door, opening it a crack. "Good heavens, Alice, what time is it?" A thought penetrated the fog of sleep. "Is Cordelia ill?"

"She's gone," said Alice. "Off to stop Falada by herself." The maid's face was grim. "And it's nearly dawn, and she isn't back yet."

"Shit," said Hester, with feeling. "Get out from under there, Richard. It doesn't matter now."