over the horse and slid down, landing on the grass with a thump. She dug into her pockets and came up with two packets of McVitie’s Digestive Biscuits. “‘Doesn’t take to others’ doesn’t apply when you have these,” she said, handing the packets to Berron. “Mind the animal, my good sir, whilst I confer with my colleague.”
Berron blinked at the cookies.
Sybelia shuffled forward and attempted to snarf the packages whole.
Poppy drew me away, down the spiral, away from Berron. “Something’s fishy,” she said quietly.
“How would you know? You’ve been having horsey time!”
“Rude.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure we were alone. “I can see Daniel’s thoughts just as well when I’m riding by on a horse. He lets down his guard and he might as well be holding up signs.”
I didn’t know whether to walk faster, to get more distance from Berron, or slow down, to avoid running into Daniel at the bottom of the Fortress.
Poppy saved me from choosing by threading her arm through mine as we continued, drawing me closer and matching my pace to hers. “He’s looking”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“for vampire magic.”
I stopped short, nearly slingshotting Poppy off the side of the Fortress. “He what?”
“Don’t murder me, I was just doing what you asked.” She brushed off her costume, pushed her hair behind her ears, and took my arm again, only with me on the outside of the path this time.
“Sorry! Sorry,” I said. It was my turn to glance back, make sure we weren’t being overhead. “You mean he was thinking about… that magic?”
“Not just thinking. Looking. Actively searching Everything he sees, he’s checking.”
I felt an unaccustomed surge of gratitude for my brother, Bruce, who had introduced me to Poppy in the first place. Not only was she a fire witch and a mind-reader, but I could absolutely trust her, unlike the two fine-looking gents currently above and below me. “I mean, I was going to look for unusual magic here, but why would he be so intense about it? This is the Gentry’s turf. There shouldn’t be any of that here.”
“I know.” Her eyes widened with a thrill of horror and curiosity.
“Is there any?” My gaze darted around, as if I’d somehow missed a red glow on the wilted grass, or the withered apples, or the looming forest. I could see vampire magic, since I had topped up on it recently enough, but to my eye, there was none to be seen.
Then, another unwelcome thought: What if Daniel was better at seeing it?
We’d never tested it before. I had no way of knowing for sure. And to ask him questions would mean giving away that I knew something was up.
I could have growled in frustration.
“Don’t look now, but here comes your Blessed ex-boyfriend,” Poppy said. “And maybe try to look less like you might take his head off.”
I managed a tight smile. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already thinking of a dozen ways to sneak the truth out of him. Disguising myself as Jessica, for a start.
Daniel ran up the incline with his customary athleticism, augmented by his vampiric strength and stamina. He jogged to a stop before us and put his hands on his hips, breathing as if he’d been winded—but he wasn’t winded.
He was performing being human.
“Where’s the horse?” he said.
Poppy gestured upward, airily. “I left her with Berron.”
Meanwhile I was calculating exactly how far away he was standing from Poppy, and how I could maneuver him close enough so she could keep reading him.
Daniel looked at me. “Do I have something in my teeth?”
“I was admiring your costume,” I said, intentionally delivering the words evenly, neutrally. I wasn’t concealing that something was wrong. I was communicating it. A warning shot, for an old game. A game we had played many times before. A game that blew up our relationship.
A game I liked to call Who Breaks First?
He shifted weight from foot to foot, once. A tell he hadn’t learned to conceal. He knew something was off, and it made him uncomfortable. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.
“Admiring isn’t the same as liking.”
A disbelieving laugh. “So you don’t like it?”
“Maybe I miss your usual suits.”
“Maybe you can get used to me in this one.”
“I haven’t made up my mind.”
Poppy stepped forward and waved a hand between Daniel and me. “Hello? Perhaps we should be—I don’t know, just theorizing here—investigating why this whole place has withered away? Perhaps you could discuss your sartorial opinions… later?”
“Absolutely,” Daniel said. Eye contact so intense it almost hurt to hold it, like handfuls of ice.
Berron approached from behind us, with Sybelia in tow. “I host a party,” he said, “and all my guests wander off.”
It took a mile-deep sense of dark humor to be talking about parties. Still, it gave me an excuse to turn away from Daniel. “If this is a party, Berron, you need a better caterer.”
“Are you volunteering?” His charm was back in full force.
“Maybe. What kind of kitchen you got?”
“Follow me, chef.” Berron led the way back to the base of the Fortress. When we reached ground level, he walked around the structure, running one hand over the boulders as we went. Then he stopped in front of one emblazoned with triple spirals. “My kitchen,” he said. “And everything else.”
The boulder under his hand swung silently away, leaving an opening the approximate size and shape of a doorway in the side of the Fortress. From within, a warm light glowed—a welcome contrast to the slow death pressing down on us outside.
I stepped through the opening.
And gasped.
By the light of golden-flamed lamps, I saw the craftsmanship of the Mirror Seal a hundred times over, executed in extravagant furnishings and carved walls and polished wood floors so shiny they could have been mirrors themselves.
A great heap of pillows and rich velvet coverlets embroidered with metallic threads and studded with sparkling crystals filled one corner of the room. Dried flower petals and herbs had been crushed over the bedding, leaving behind a scent like Cleopatra’s long-lost perfume.
Another corner held a stool, some pieces of wood, and carvings in progress, the fresh-cut shavings adding to the scent of the room. A third corner embraced a fireplace nook with a vent hood in the shape of an upside-down flower. Wooden cabinets with wavy glass fronts framed a built-in writing desk along one wall. It was like a ship’s cabin, but lavish beyond dreams.
“Oh, my,” murmured Poppy.
Daniel came in last, and said nothing, though his gaze traced everything in the room.
Berron went to the cabinets and began pulling out earthenware mugs. “I haven’t had any visitors in a while…”
“Why not?” Poppy said. “If I had a place like this I’d practically be dragging people over to have a look.” She scooped up a velvet coverlet and pressed it to her face, inhaling the scent.
“Yeah, nice place you got here, Berron,” Daniel said. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
I shot him a look, but he seemed sincere enough.
“Oh—chairs!” Berron dropped the mugs onto a countertop with a muffled clatter. “I forgot about chairs.” He hurried outside.
Poppy ran over and peeked out. “He’s putting his hand on another boulder. He’s going in. And… he’s bringing out chairs! How does that work?” She moved aside as Berron came back in.
“I don’t have visitors much. Or—well—ever, anymore,” Berron said, carefully setting down the chairs. He brought over the stool, too, and the chair from the writing desk. “But it’s no trouble to call up a few extras.”
“How did you do that?” I asked.
He had gone back to the fireplace, where he was making some kind of hot drink out of pinches of dried substances he plucked out of various jars. “The Fortress of Apples, as you may have guessed, is enchanted. We are not much on things—”
Daniel looked around the room and raised an eyebrow.
“But for those who prefer to be more sheltered, the Fortress can provide what is needed. This is my room, should I choose to be in residence.”
“Like the queen,” Poppy said, running her fingers over the writing table. “So if anyone else opened up one of those boulders, they’d find their own room?”
“Or whatever they require. Jousting lances. Glow-in-the-dark silk. Barrels of apple blossom honey. And when they’re done with it, they load it back into the Fortress.”
I chuckled and took a chair. “Easy cleanup,” I said.
“Exactly.”
Daniel hadn’t moved. “Berron, do you have any theories on why your world is dying?”
Both Poppy and I turned to look at Daniel. Like—the man just invited you into his house, and he’s making you tea? Maybe don’t bludgeon him with the hard questions yet?
Daniel returned my gaze steadily. I’m here for a reason, it said, and so are you.
I shifted uncomfortably.
Berron handed me a steaming mug, with a hint of a smile to let me know he wasn’t bothered. I returned the smile, grateful for the drink and his ability to be patient with Daniel’s bluntness.
The second mug went to Poppy, who sniffed at it delightedly.
The third mug he carried to Daniel, who eyed it like it was hot dog water before taking it.
“I’m not trying to kill you,” Berron said. “If I wanted to do that, I’d use one of the stakes I made specifically for the purpose.” He glanced at the woodworking corner, where some of the pieces I’d originally taken for walking sticks turned out to have very sharp points, and the smaller sticks were the exact size of arrows.
“Good to know,” Daniel replied.
“He is here to help, you know,” I added, to Berron.
“Why, though?” Berron asked. “It’s a fair question, isn’t it? Why are you here, Daniel?”
I jumped in. “You know why. Because when the Mirror Seal was created, it was a treaty between the Gentry, the Blessed, and the witches. It only makes sense to have all three investigating what might have gone wrong to cause this to happen,” I said, gesturing at the world in general.
“As much as I enjoy every syllable of your dulcet tones, my Zelda,” Berron said, gently, “I didn’t ask you. I asked your ex.”
I had to restrain myself from throwing the mug and yelling Don’t call me your Zelda, and don’t call him my ex, but I wouldn’t give Berron the satisfaction of watching me lose it. Instead, I slurped angrily at the hot liquid. Damn him, but it was tasty. I usually hated roses and lavender in anything, but this worked. Like a pack of cherubs had made their own version of Sleepytime tea.
Daniel took a long, slow sip from his mug. Then he casually crossed the room, set down the mug, and picked up one of the wooden stakes. He twirled it between his fingers, pressed the point against his palm. Observed the red indentation it left behind. “I don’t know why none of you seem to trust me.” He looked at Poppy. “You’re reading my mind every time I get close enough.”
She opened her mouth, as if to protest, then closed it as Daniel continued.
“I may not be able to feel when you’re doing it, but the look on your face says you’re trying as hard as you can, every chance you get. We hardly know each other.”
Poppy’s gaze dropped to her mug.
Daniel spun the stake again, pointed the sharp end at Berron. “And you—you act like we’re old enemies. Like we ought to fight to the death. But other than help Zelda restore her restaurant, and maybe get turned into a vampire—”
“Blessed,” I corrected, automatically.
“I haven’t even been one long enough to remember to censor myself.” He returned his attention to Berron. “I haven’t done anything to you. Whatever your beef is with the Blessed, I’m not part of it.”
Berron rolled his eyes and made a disbelieving noise.
Daniel flipped the stick around, pushed the dull end at the prince. “Take it. Go on. If you mistrust me so much, why not get me out of the way right now?” With his other hand, he pressed the sharp point under his sternum. “Go ahead.”
Berron wrapped his hand around the base of the stake.
They locked eyes.
Poppy made as if to intervene, but I shook my head.
I wanted to see what they would do.
“Go ahead. Do it,” Daniel said.
Berron slowly applied pressure until the point of the stake was clearly about to make a hole in Daniel’s new shirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he said. “Master of the universe, reduced to nothing by a change of circumstances.”
“You call getting turned into this a ‘change of circumstances’?” Daniel managed to say, as the pressure of the sharp point began to cut off how deeply he could breathe.
“Poor Daniel. All that wealth, all that power, trapped on a tiny island for the rest of his unnatural life. Forced to drink blood—or worse, be brought blood—to stay alive. Better to antagonize someone, get them to take away any choice you might have had about dealing with it. Better than being alone in a world that despises you, with friends who no longer trust you. Or no friends at all.” Berron leaned in, harder. That point had to hurt. “Don’t you think I know what it’s like? To be alone? To be forced to beg for help? To wish I could lay it all down and give up? Of course I don’t want you around. You remind me of everything I hate.” He withdrew the stake suddenly, drawing it back like a javelin—and hurled it across the room, where it sank into the wall with a thunk and quivered. “But I’m not allowed to lie down and die. And neither are you.” He retrieved Daniel’s mug, and his own. “To fighting. For the right things.”
Daniel stood, frozen, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he was finally going to take that swing at Berron. Or walk out.
Then, he chuckled. Shook his head. Took the mug and clanked it against Berron’s. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” Berron said.
They drank. They both laughed.
And Poppy and I traded relieved glances.
Only I knew the secret that Daniel still kept. If I let it steep, like the rose and lavender tea, would it be too bitter to drink in the end?