Chapter 22

Iwasn't alone. Elowen was always home, and there was usually someone coming and going, it seemed. Today was quiet, though. Only her. I'd been torn between starting my search for the Life Maiden in the city, or here in the Syndicate house, but after several days of everyone being around, they were finally gone, so I decided to take the opportunity presented and start searching.

"Tea?" I asked, holding the smile that felt foreign on my face as I offered a sleeping tonic to Orin's mother, sitting next to her on the front steps again.

"Thank you, Dey. It never gets easier. Every night they leave, I feel like I can't breathe until they come home safely."

"I"ve been wondering, how does the Maestro's power work? I thought for every deed, a debt was paid. That's how Lady Visha's binding magic is."

"That would be how it appears, but we cannot claim to know the intricacies of magic or the heart of the wielder, can we, Maiden? The same can be said for Drexel. He values time rather than deeds."

She sipped her tea as I did mine, the soft breeze coiling through her golden-brown hair. I didn't bother answering, just waited until she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "Have you ever wondered where the Life Maiden is?"

She choked on her next drink, sitting up a little straighter. "Why do you ask?"

Usually, when someone answered a question with a question, they knew more than they were willing to say. I forced a sigh, moving a finger over the rim of my teacup. "No reason."

"If you're hunting her, don't bother. Paesha's been trying for years."

Interesting, though I'd deduced as much from the child.

"The Life Maiden means nothing to me. It just seems strange that every generation we've had one and now suddenly we don't. The world looks different from a castle. The edges of reality are smoother, and the smiles are less genuine. You never know what's real."

She yawned again. "Yes, I can see how that would be true, but no one knows where the Life Maiden is. The people of this world are close. No one truly has secrets. If one person knew, we'd all know."

"Good point." I wondered if she could lie well while so tired or if she really meant what she'd said, and my entire theory about Orin was wrong.

"Goodness, what time is it? I can barely keep my eyes open."

I nudged her with my shoulder. "If you want to sleep, I can wait for them and wake you if something happens."

"Oh, no." She rubbed her eyes. "I've never missed a homecoming. And the Maestro is furious with Orin for…" Her voice trailed off.

"Marrying me. You can say it. Though I'm not sure why it matters to him."

Leaning on the railing, she let her eyes fall shut. "I'm sure there are two reasons. First, because… because he likes to be in control, and the second…"

"The second?" I asked, startling her awake.

"The second what, dear?"

"You said there were two reasons the Maestro would be mad at Orin for marrying me."

"Ah, yes. Because you are a prize to…"

This time when she fell asleep, I didn't wake her. Of course, I was a prize for a man who could control anyone with a magically binding contract. Without my father in the way, he'd probably be hunting me soon. And by my choice, I was living in a house full of people bound to him.

Paesha's and Althea's rooms were on the second level of the home. Hollis, Quill, and Elowen had the first floor, and Orin and I shared the top. I wasn't sure which room belonged to Paesha, but still, I flinched when the stairs creaked at my ascent. I'd been purposefully avoiding this floor. I wanted them to think I respected their space and so far, aside from the clear avoidance on Paesha's part, there hadn't been an outright tantrum in my presence. After she got over which room I was staying in.

I pressed open the first door, waiting to see if Elowen made a noise from the front door before I stepped inside. It felt strange to lurk without my mask and hood, but also familiar. There was something comforting about relying on only myself, especially in a house full of people who were constantly together. They worked together, ate together, they even practiced together. Paesha was a dancer, a beautiful one. She danced in the garden yesterday as Orin played his cello, her twirls and stretches far more graceful than what I'd seen on the Maestro"s stage.

Althea's blacksmith apron lay over the back of a chair. I wasn't sure if she used magic or not, but her room was full of metal parts and drawings of designs. She had cogs and wheels and blueprints all over the place. But somehow, the pink bed coverings and gentle lace still felt like her. I couldn't imagine where to begin rummaging. And for now, I wouldn't. Though there was one particular area I felt drawn to. I'd be back to search that spot soon.

Paesha was my target. I quietly closed the door, standing in the hall with my breath held for just a moment. The house remained quiet. Slipping into her room next, I glanced at the window facing the tree line, watching for a hint of movement. Nothing.

Things were thrown everywhere, with no rhyme or reason. Books were stacked from floor to ceiling, and performance costumes were tossed in the corner. She hadn't made her bed, nor cleared her nightstand in probably forever. I smirked at the red panties hanging from the lamp before carefully winding my way through. Paesha didn't need to keep her space clean because she was magically gifted with the ability to find anything she needed. But she might also know if things were moved, and, based on the way she watched me enter and exit a room, I'd bet my last coin she'd set a trap in here for me. Because it's exactly what I would have done if I had something to hide.

I started with the books. She must have meant to read every book in existence before her one-hundredth year. And she'd made a pretty good dent. Unless she was just a collector. But something in the way she kept to herself but always had a strong opinion, the way she studied every little detail and held eyes on Quill, told me she was studious. Observant.

Breaking down Paesha the way I had Death's victims made my skin crackle with anticipation. I loved the hunt. Not the outcome. I loathed the outcome. But there was something so satisfying about using my brain and wits to solve the mystery that surrounded every person. Most of her books were of the battles drawn out between ancient Silbath and Perth. Of the lineage of the kings and the histories of gods. She had a few fairytales scattered about, which surprised me. She didn't seem like the whimsical kind of woman I figured those would attract. But then, what did I truly know about people?

Paesha was a collector. Stacked along her walls were shelves of things. Metal containers with buttons and spools of dusty strings, albums of pictures, and jars of dried flowers. Shoes for dancing hung from her floor-length mirror, and… I paused.

The mirror.

It was nearly a twin to the one Ro had gifted me in the castle. I carefully stepped closer, smoothing a hand over the golden filigree. Could that be a coincidence? Hers was cleaner, newer. There were no signs of wear along the edges, no handprints from wishing for entry into a hidden world. There was no buzz of magic, no silvery ripple. It was just a mirror.

I turned, staring at the bed. If I were storing information about the Life Maiden, I'm not sure where I would have hidden it in this mess. Honestly, I might have left it in plain sight. Or not in my bedroom at all.

I thought about what Elowen had said about the Maestro considering me a prize. But he'd never needed to hunt me. The hand of Death was a beacon in a world full of immortals. He always knew where I was. The Life Maiden, though… There's no way he wasn't hunting for her. Each day that passed without her only made her more valuable. And Drexel Vanhoff was a collector.

Bound to him, as Paesha was, if she had information, he had information. Unless she knew how to hide it from him. But I didn't think his magic came with loopholes. Without rooting around the room and moving things to dig, I wasn't sure if I was going to find anything in this mess.

I moved back to the window, thanking the old gods for a full, bright moon, then checked the tree line one more time before falling to my knees beside the bed and swiping my hand below the iron bed frame. Nothing. I'd drugged Orin's mom to sleep with poppy milk tea that was likely far too potent for her petite figure. I'd waited patiently for days for everyone to leave this godsdamned house. I needed this moment.

If I didn't find the Life Maiden, I had no true purpose beyond Death's calling. I'd never bring a single thing to this world. Each foul and despicable thought and word anyone ever had against me would be my only truth. And I refused to be the enemy. I was not like them, those that came before me. And I'd search every inch of this world until I proved it.

My skin practically crawled with the desire to pick up the clothes covering the floor and toss them to the side. Frustrated, I wanted to destroy this place just as much as I wanted to preserve it. But since I couldn't, and there was not a single clue to be found that wasn't buried within the millions of pages of books she had or lost beneath a sloppy mountain, I tiptoed back to the open door, cursing Paesha Vox and her gloriously disastrous bedroom.

I almost walked out. Almost let her win. But when the screaming from outside began, a repeat of the last time they'd come home, I threw the door back open, racing for the window. The doorknob crashed into the wall, causing a frame to fall, but also marking the wall. A hoard of silhouettes broke through the tree line.

If I blew my cover, if they knew I was simply staying in order to find answers, they'd force me to leave. And sorting through all my husband's lies would be so much harder from the outside. I snatched the cracked picture from the floor and propped it back up over the nail head peeking from the wall.

The front door slammed open. My ears began to ring. I glanced at the weathered frame for one more second, hoping I'd gotten the angle right, as if she wouldn't notice the giant crack in the glass. But the smiles in the painting halted me. Even as Hollis called my name.

There were five people. First, Paesha, her beautiful sun-kissed skin a near match to the familiar face beside her. Orin. Impeccably dressed in a suit, as he usually was, he held her hand in his, smiling brightly. A genuine grin that must have been created by an absolute artist able to imagine such a thing because I'd never seen him look that way. His eyes twinkled. Paesha was just as happy, staring at the side profile of another man standing just a bit taller than Orin, slightly hidden by the collar of his coat. His arms were slung over the shoulder of a third man. Althea stood on the opposite side, her face flushed, leaning on a sword she no doubt crafted herself with a smudge of ash on her chin. These must have been important members of their little Syndicate.

"Deyanira?" Hollis called from the base of the stairs. "Come quick."

"Coming!" I shouted, muffling my voice with my arm so he couldn't discern where I was.

I closed the door as quietly as I could, sneaking up one flight of stairs before loudly crashing back down them to make it seem like I'd been in my bedroom. I tossed my hair and pinched my cheeks for color as I jogged down to the entrance of the Syndicate house.

Althea's eyes were red-rimmed as she dragged a sleepy Elowen through the front door. Hollis held Orin up with the last bit of strength the old man could likely muster.

I rushed forward, taking Orin's other side. "Was it another hellhound?"

"A sword fight," Hollis answered, pulling his hand away from Orin's ribs to reveal the gaping wound. "One he had no chance of winning."

"Just a scratch," Orin moaned, his head falling backward, revealing the gash in his throat.

"Where are Quill and Paesha?" I asked carefully, head snapping to Althea.

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand before bursting into tears. "Quill is missing."