Opening gambit, p.23
Opening Gambit, page 23
Sera poured herself a mug of tea and sat at the table. The brew went untouched as she warmed her hands on the mug, her thoughts swirling. The surgeon likewise sat in silence, one watchful eye on his banshee patients. Life returned to the building around them, and the sounds of normal arguments, laughter, and pounding footsteps returned.
A sharp rap preceded the opening of the door, and Lieutenant Powers stepped inside. He nodded to the women on the sofa, then joined Sera and Hugh at the table. “I have sent off my preliminary reports and advised the queen that Lord Branvale’s death is resolved.” He omitted any mention of murder, murderers, or poison from his brief summary. For which Sera offered silent thanks. Edith and Mrs Hogan had been through enough.
“What will happen to his family now?” she asked.
The lieutenant’s lips tightened in a grimace. “There is little I can do, I am afraid. Once it is known Unnaturals reside here, there are those who might seek to capture them for their own purposes. The law offers them no protection. If only there was someone who could, someone who would be sympathetic to their condition.”
Exactly Sera’s line of thought. “Yes, if only there was someone who might shelter them.”
Powers rapped his knuckles on the table. “I must go and will not detain you. I’m sure you also have much to do, Lady Winyard.” He stood and held Sera’s gaze. A silent understanding formed between them.
“Indeed.” After the lieutenant left, she approached the bereaved family and laid a hand on Mrs Hogan’s arm. “Pack only what you can carry. I will return and do what Jake asked of me. I shall take you somewhere safe.”
Mrs Hogan nodded and placed a hand over Sera’s. “Thank you.”
“I will do what I can.” Do one thing. Small changes build bigger changes. Helping these women would be one step toward achieving a much bigger change—an equal right to exist for all Unnaturals.
Twilight brushed over the city by the time Sera walked up her front stairs. She had paid a visit to the contessa and negotiated a safe place for Edith and Mrs Hogan. The two women would take up residence in the house occupied by Vilma and, once recovered, would be found work within the household to suit their abilities. In return, Contessa Ricci would receive her monthly preservative potion at no charge. Sera also promised to dine with the vampyre monthly when she delivered it, as her guardian once had. The latter part was no hardship; on the contrary, she looked forward to her first such dinner with the Italian noble.
Elliot held the door open and narrowed his gaze at her. “You look done in.”
“Jake did it,” she murmured as she walked inside.
The footman’s eyebrows shot up as he shut the door. “Bloody hell. I knew he didn’t like Branvale, but never suspected it went as far as murder.”
Sera stripped off her cloak and handed it over. “None of us did. He did it to protect his family. Branvale found out they are Unnaturals and was forcing Jake to feed them a potion he brewed to try to cure them. He was treating Jake’s family as an experiment.”
A low whistle came from Elliot as he hung the cloak on its hook.
“I thought I knew him. How could I have lived with Jake for so many years and not known his struggles?” She placed her hands in the small of her back and arched to relieve a dull ache.
Elliot stared at her for a moment, then huffed. “You know as much as people let you see. We all hide things. Why don’t you go up to bed before you collapse and litter my tidy hall? I’ll send Vicky up to help and have Rosie bring you a tray.”
“Thank you.” Her feet grew heavier with each step, but Sera had one thing yet to do before she climbed into bed. Stopping at the linen closet, she dug out the hidden sheet of paper. Her spell had revealed a brief message, written in an unfamiliar hand. The words from Lord Branvale’s anonymous correspondent.
* * *
Keep her with you, however you can
To ensure her safety, the council must believe her feeble, with little power, and of no consequence
There cannot be another Nereus
* * *
All Sera thought she knew of the previous thirteen years exploded into thousands of tiny, glittering pieces. The bracelet Branvale had snapped on her wrist had dampened her power. To ensure her safety. How odd to consider that he had, in his cold way, kept her alive. Thoughts and beliefs realigned themselves. What if he’d never thought her inferior or defective, but had followed these instructions and had sought the extension of his guardianship to keep her from whatever her unseen opponents intended?
Who, or what, was Nereus? So many questions without answers.
“Tomorrow,” she muttered.
No more would she be a pawn, moved by unseen players. She would learn their secrets, disrupt their game, and then beat them at it.
Twenty-Four
The next morning, Sera sat at the desk before the parlour window and looked up to see the looming figure of Hugh Miles mounting the stairs. She composed herself as Elliot showed him through—the footman grinning behind the surgeon’s back.
Hugh took her hand and bowed over it. “I wanted to see how you were holding up this morning.”
Sera stared at his large hands and wondered what sort of stitch such thick fingers could make. “I berate myself for failing to help Jake earlier. Part of me feels guilty that his actions clear me of suspicion. However, unless we find who sold it to him, I am sure some will claim I made the poison that Jake poured into Lord Branvale’s glass that night.”
He let go of her hand. “You have an unexpected ally in that regard.”
“Oh?” Curious, she rose and moved to the settee, gesturing for Hugh to take the armchair.
He sank into the chair and propped his elbows on the arms. “Lord Tomlin, on hearing the news last night, said that any gifted apothecary could have crafted such a poisonous potion.”
Sera leaned back and let those words ripple through her. A most unexpected ally, after he’d tried to claim the poison had had a hibernation effect imposed on it. Perhaps a twinge of guilt made him speak up now, before Lord Ormsby silenced him again? Not knowing the other mage very well, she decided to cast a charitable light on his actions. “That was an unusual step for him to take. Almost gallant.”
Hugh’s eyebrows drew together. “Hardly gallant, after he first tried to place the poison in your hand. I have other news, too. Apparently, when the council sent soldiers to the Hogan family rooms this morning to seize the Unnaturals, they found no trace of his mother or sister.”
Sera widened her eyes and resisted the urge to bat her eyelashes. “Really? Vanished? Well, let us hope that after these horrid events, and wherever they may have gone, they find a small sanctuary of quiet and safety.”
He started to say something, changed his mind, and placed his fingers over his mouth. But humour sparkled in his gaze. “I, too, hope they are safe and protected. I think Jake would have appreciated that.”
“With one problem resolved, I now need to find a way to tackle the next obstacle in my path.” Sera stared at the ceiling as she considered how to gain access to the locked library.
“Might it help to talk through this problem aloud?” Hugh asked.
There was no harm in discussing the issue with the surgeon. It might clarify her thoughts to have his opinion. “The mage tower at Finsbury Fields contains a locked library that holds knowledge the council has gathered over the centuries. To gain access, I must plant a single blade of grass in the tower’s wasteland of a courtyard. It sounds simple, but it is a test of strength and precision. The earth there is drenched in magic and quite barren. I have tried repeatedly and failed. Now all I hear in my head are their voices telling me I am a feeble woman and that only a man can plant a seed.”
Hugh made a sound in the back of his throat and tented his fingers. “A man might plant a seed, but only a woman can nurture it. Without her, it would wither and die. I am relieved to hear, however, that the council is not so enfeebled that they fail to recognise you are a woman.”
Sera swallowed a laugh. But his words made an idea spark in her mind.
He leaned forward. “You have a unique type of magic, unfamiliar to them. Use your abilities to nurture life. Is this not what you have fought against—being forced to follow their methods?”
She stared at him. The solution was so blindingly obvious. For years she had tried to warp her magic to fit the male mould imposed by Branvale and the council. What she needed to do was break free of their chains and embrace who and what she was. A woman. One who reached for the warm touch of Mother Nature when she cast.
“You are brilliant, Hugh. If it wasn’t considered impertinent, I would kiss you.” Ideas blossomed as to how she could pass the Mage Council’s test and leave them in no doubt of her ability.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone. Your secret impertinence would be safe with me.” The surgeon met her gaze. Then he blushed and stared at the ceiling.
Good humour bubbled through Sera. She approached his chair, leaned down to take his face in her hands, and kissed him on the lips. His body stilled, as though he was too scared to move, but he most definitely kissed her back.
Then she broke it off. “I have to go. Will you come back for our celebration tonight?”
He pushed out of the chair. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, milady.”
“Elliot!” she called, her idea setting fire to her feet. Snatching up the cloak from its hook, she swirled it to her shoulders. Hugh nodded and took his leave, whistling a cheery tune as he walked away.
“That doesn’t count for our bet, by the way,” Elliot muttered when he appeared.
“What doesn’t count?” Sera fastened the clasp and settled the drape of fabric around her body.
He rolled his eyes toward the open door and the broad receding back. “You kissed him. He still has to work up the courage to kiss you, and his time is running out.”
“Well, he may feel a little more motivated now.” Sera grinned at the footman and practically danced out the front door.
She hailed a carriage to take her out to Finsbury Fields. Unable to sit still, Sera perched on the edge of her seat and tapped a foot the entire way. At the nondescript tower, she had to slow her footsteps and rein in her eagerness. She stared at the dry and cracked ground, and a moment of self-doubt grated up against her resolution.
The old weathered door swung open to reveal Lord Pendlebury in his purple robes. “What do you seek?” he intoned.
“I seek admittance to the library,” Sera replied. Honestly, their rituals were pointless, but if they wanted a display, she would give them one.
“First, you must prove your worth to access our collected knowledge. Grow a blade of grass in this earth.” He swept out an arm to encompass the packed earth surrounding the mage tower. Parts were so dry, there were cracks in the ground deep enough for mice to hide in.
“Must it be only a single blade of grass?” she murmured.
Lord Pendlebury’s brow furrowed. “Mages throughout history have found that a near impossible task. But I wouldn’t say no to a shade tree out here, if you feel up to growing a mighty oak.”
He spoke in jest, but Sera took his words to heart. She glanced around the area between the tower and the enclosing wall. In one spot was a small patch of grass, no more than a foot square. These were the blades of grass planted by a succession of male mages. Sera wouldn’t even call it a lush patch of grass. It struggled in the barren landscape with too little water and too much sun, as though London’s notorious rain never touched the ground here.
She knelt and placed her palms on the dirt. With head bowed, she closed her eyes and reached out with her magic. Down through the cracks she tunnelled, and bit back a cry at the pathetic state of the soil. Parched, drained, with no one to nurture it into health. Mother Nature had abandoned this stretch of land. Or, more likely, the mages had excluded her.
With Branvale’s shackle removed from her wrist, magic surged through her veins. Sera let her power seep into the ground like a gentle rain. It trickled through the cracks and splits. All the while she sought the goddess who supported all life on earth, entreating her to answer her daughter’s call and help revitalise the soil.
A tendril of answering power reached up to meet Sera’s and entwined with it.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Together, the two types of magic cultivated the dirt under the solid crust. Moisture and nutrients were added. Only when she imagined that she turned over a rich compost, did Sera visualise the seed she required. She coaxed it into life in the renewed soil, adding a breath of warmth as extra encouragement. A root poked out and burrowed. Then a shoot pushed through the surface and wriggled. As it grew taller, a leaf emerged from one side. Inch by inch, the seedling grew.
A gasp came from behind her. The browned grass turned to a deep, healthy green as the sapling continued to grow. Branches sprouted off the main trunk and still it stretched toward the sky. When the tree reached six feet in height, it stopped growing and shook its limbs. Bright green leaves burst into life along the bracts.
Sera rose and brushed off her skirts. Then she smiled at Lord Pendlebury. “An oak, as requested. A few more years and we shall be able to take tea in its shade.”
He stared with a slack jaw. “How, Lady Winyard, did you achieve such a feat when we have all struggled with a blade of grass?”
She had drained herself to the point of exhaustion, and her bones were turning into liquid. If she didn’t sit down soon, she would embarrass herself by falling over. All things she would never reveal to another mage. Nor would she mention that her unique magic allowed her to seek the help of Mother Nature, the most powerful force known to humanity.
Instead, she tilted her head and managed an open, innocent expression. “I do not know, Lord Pendlebury. I suspect my spell went awry. I was merely trying to grow a bigger and healthier stem of grass.”
He appeared to be on the brink of saying something, then his mouth slammed shut. A wide smile lit his eyes. “You are a marvel among us. Let me escort you to the library, since you have most ably demonstrated your ability. None of our fellow mages will be able to miss the tree on their way in and out now.”
Exactly. Every time they came to the tower, there would be the proof of her ability, spreading its shade and protection over their efforts. Let them chew on what that meant.
After some hours in the locked library—some of them with her head on her arms—and clutching the more immediate spells she sought, Sera returned to her home for a well-deserved rest before the street celebration. When sunset cast the buildings in a deep golden glow, Sera stood in the street and surveyed their hard work.
People had dragged out their tables and chairs and set them up in two rows. Cloths in white, red, and green covered the tables. Strands of tiny magical lights wound back and forth between the buildings and lit up a rectangle below. Women began carrying out heavy trays laden with plates. More emerged from Sera’s kitchen—she had dipped into her first advance to ensure everyone would go home with full stomachs tonight. Her funds even stretched to three kegs of ale. Elliot had found three musicians, who sat on crates and played fast and jaunty tunes.
Children flowed from open doors, laughing and chasing one another, and the adults followed. Hugh appeared, towering a head above the others, and greeted her warmly. Sera tugged him to a table to one side and poured him an ale as everyone found a seat for the feast. By the time full dark enveloped them, the group existed in their own wonderland of delicious food and raucous conversation.
“You need to say something.” Elliot nudged her when everyone had a plate full of food and something to drink.
Sera stood and cleared her throat.
“Higher.” Elliot gestured upward with a thumb.
Hugh stood, took her hand, and helped Sera up on a chair. “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight and for welcoming me into your neighbourhood. I wanted to show my appreciation, but I’ll not bore you with a long-winded speech. To new friends! Let us eat, drink, and be merry.”
People cheered and raised their mugs to her. Grinning, she assumed her seat and conversation broke out as the meal recommenced. Afterward, Sera took a quick sip of ale and then walked to the empty space beside the tables. Cracking her knuckles, she drew on her magic to begin the evening’s entertainment. First she created an expanse of ocean, the waves lapping against the cobbles. Upon the water appeared a pirate ship. The boys roared and raced to stand closer, jostling each other to point out pirates scrubbing the deck, others climbing the rigging, and one in the crow’s nest peering off to the horizon.
One by one, in the ocean mermaids materialised, their hair braided with shells. Each mermaid rode a sea unicorn, like a seahorse but with a twisted horn in the centre of its forehead. That delighted the little girls, who clapped and promptly set about ensuring each girl had her own mermaid to cheer on.
A battle ensued, the mermaids defending their fishy friends and sunken treasure from the pirates, who cast their nets overboard and fired off their cannon. The mermaids won by sneaking under the boat to allow their unicorn seahorses to poke holes in the hull. The boys booed as the ship sank and the pirates struggled in the ocean. Being kind-hearted, the mermaids summoned turtles, each large enough to carry a pirate back to land.
Her tableau over, Sera dropped into a chair while people clapped, and Hugh passed her a mug of ale. Elliot waved to the musicians, who struck up a lively reel. Men and women danced in the streets. Someone asked Sera, but she apologised, pleading that she was worn out from her efforts for the moment.
“You have made a remarkable impression on the neighbourhood, Lady Winyard.” Hugh’s serious brown eyes focused on her.
“Sera,” she murmured over her ale. Perhaps the exertion, the company, or the ale warmed her skin.
“Pardon?” A tiny line wrinkled his brow.
“My friends call me Sera.”
