Twenty-one

“FINN.” I SQUEEZE HIS ARM SO TIGHTLY MY FINGERS cramp.

He follows my gaze to where Lord Downpike is smiling at us, Eleanor at his side.

“Spirits take him,” Finn curses. “He won’t harm her—even he wouldn’t dare go so openly against Lord Rupert. He’s trying to make a point.”

“And what point is that?”

“That he still has options when it comes to hurting us.” He sees the look of fear and dread on my face, then pats my hand. “Never mind. I have it under control. Wait here.”

He leaves me standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by glittering strangers. I have never felt so helpless and alone.

I loathe feeling helpless.

I watch Finn stride toward Lord Downpike and Eleanor, Lord Downpike’s smile growing bigger and bigger, too big to fit his face, so sharp I wonder that it does not cut his cheeks.

“Are you quite well, Miss Olea?”

I turn to see Lord Rupert’s wife looking at me with concern. She’s on Ernest’s arm, who is watching Lord Downpike and Finn with narrowed eyes.

“I am . . . I am fine, yes, thank you.”

She follows our eyes and notes Finn and Lord Downpike having what appears to be a pleasant conversation, but one punctuated by a strange number of hand gestures. Lord Downpike flicks his fingers, Finn taps his cane, Lord Downpike makes a swirling motion as though illustrating a point, Finn slashes his cane through the air.

“Ah, men,” Lord Rupert’s wife sighs. “From the nursery to the Noble House, they never can stop fighting.” She pats my shoulder with stiffly detached sympathy. “They’ll sort it out. We needn’t worry ourselves over these sorts of things.” She yawns behind a gloved hand, covered in rings. “Hmm. Gallen pastries. Excuse me.”

She walks past with a whiff of stingingly floral perfume, and I watch her go, aghast. Could she not see the fear in Eleanor’s eyes? Does she care so little for the welfare of her own niece? Worst of all, is she really so accustomed to being pushed to the sidelines she no longer sees any evil in it?

“Aren’t you going to go help?” I ask Ernest. I turn to him and am surprised to see him watching me with a look of accusation. “What?”

“I advised you to leave Eleanor alone.”

“She’s my friend.”

“You attract trouble. I think you court it. And now you’ve brought her into it all.”

I can feel heat rising in my cheeks as my heart beats even faster, with fear or anger or some unhealthy mix of the two. “I did no such thing. Lord Downpike did this. And you stand here doing nothing while your sister is being threatened.”

“What would you have me do? Set myself against one of the most powerful men in our country?”

“If it is the right thing to do, then yes!”

“It may be the right thing to do. I would make a glorious stand, denounce him as a cruel and barbarous villain. We could bask in my righteousness. And any hopes I have at attaining a seat in the Noble House would be forever dashed. I would lose my future.”

“This isn’t about you!”

“Exactly! It isn’t about me. And so I will stand by and watch my sister in pain because of your friendship. And I will choose to do nothing, knowing that if I play the game right then someday in the near future I will be in a position of actual power, where I can effect real change. Because this isn’t about me, Jessamin. It’s about my country, and all the people I can help if I don’t throw everything away now. I asked you to put my sister’s welfare first because I cannot. I have to work toward being able to help all of Albion. Otherwise, the only voices that matter are the warmongers like Downpike.”

His words strike painfully. I thought he didn’t want me around Eleanor because I am Melenese, not because he was worried for her safety. “None of this is my fault. I’m not even part of this wretched country! I didn’t choose any of this!”

Ernest looks pointedly at my dress. “Didn’t you?” With a small bow he turns and walks stiffly away.

Trembling with the force of conflicting emotions, I nearly spill my drink. Setting it on the tray of a passing server, I am both relieved and more anxious than ever when Finn rejoins me, Eleanor leaning heavily on his arm. Lord Downpike is nowhere to be seen.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

Her eyelids droop and her face is pale, pinched in pain. “I do not have your strength for resisting spells thrown at me. I’m so sorry, Jessamin, he snatched me as soon as the music was over and . . . I can’t remember anything else. I’m so very sorry.” Tears pool in her eyes, and I rush forward to take her hands in mine.

“Never mind any of that. All I care about is that you’re safe.” No thanks to me. Ernest’s words fling themselves around my head, making me question everything I’ve done that has brought me here. I didn’t choose this, but I stubbornly refused to walk away when I became part of a game I didn’t understand.

Eleanor’s expression has none of its usual spark. “Think of the gossip—two lords fighting over me at the concert. I am so fortunate.”

Finn takes her hand from me and tucks it in his arm so she can lean on him. “I’ll call my carriage for you. I think it best if you spend the next few days at your uncle’s home.”

She nods, and I give her the best smile I can manage.

“Do not move,” Finn says to me, his voice stern, and then he walks her out of the grand room.

Eleanor is fine, I reassure myself. But she was put in harm’s way because of me. I had no thought for others’ welfare when I defied Lord Downpike with that silly attempt for power with his book. I should have known—was warned—that this was all much bigger than me. Much bigger than any book, no matter how much magical knowledge it deprived him of. But I thought myself too clever for it all.

There are more ways to hurt me than I had realized. I think of Jacky Boy and Ma’ati with a sick feeling in my stomach. I’ll have to ask Finn to take them on immediately rather than waiting. If they’re on his property, they’ll be safe. But what will I do to make sure no one else is hurt because of me? Not everyone can be carefully shuffled off to other places.

And why should I be a part of any of this? Albion, the continental countries—let them tear each other to pieces. I just want to finish my studies and go home.

I am wilting under the electric lights, coming apart at the edges and unable to hold on to myself or anyone else.

“Drink, milady?”

I reach out without looking, but the same voice says again, this time startled, “Jessa? Is that you?”

Focusing on the servant—had I forgotten to look them in the eyes?—I realize with a shock that he is none other than Kelen.

“What are you doing here?” I gasp, terrified that this, too, is a ploy of Lord Downpike’s. If he’s found out Kelen was a childhood friend, my first kiss, part of my own island . . .

He gives me an odd look. “I’m working. I could ask what you are doing here, though.” He nods down at my dress, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh.” I try to wave my hand, but even the gesture fails me. “I—I’m here with—a friend.”

“A friend.” His flat tone leaves no question as to what he thinks of that. “It appears you’ve made better friends than me in your short time here. I’ve been by to see you.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Things have been—well, complicated. Insane, actually.”

He nods, one black eyebrow raised in condemnation. “I see.”

I can’t stand the judgment in his face, not after Ernest’s criticisms. “You don’t understand, I—”

He holds up his free hand. “No, I understand. I knew our mothers, too, remember?”

“It’s not like that!”

“He’ll use you up and then throw you away, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because in the end you aren’t one of them and you never will be. No one here will ever see you as an equal—no matter how many fine dresses you accept.”

I can feel tears building, both at his accusations and at the deep-rooted suspicions that he’s right.

I take his free hand in mine. “Please, let me explain. Come and see me at the hotel, I’ll tell you everything. It’s not—” I find myself once again on the verge of saying “I didn’t choose this.” But . . . it’s a lie. I chose to come here tonight with Finn. I chose to let him into my life. I wanted to, much as I protested otherwise.

“I hope whatever you are getting is worth it.” His eyes cut me to the core.

I startle as someone touches the small of my back. “Who is your friend?” Finn asks.

Blushing deeply, I drop my grip on Kelen’s hand and stammer, “This is Kelen. We grew up together.”

Kelen bows low at the waist, while Finn barely inclines his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I must steal Jessamin.” He turns, taking me with him, and I crane my neck to watch Kelen, whose face is bathed in stony disappointment as he watches Finn lead me to the other side of the room.

“What is so important? Is it Eleanor?”

“No, no, she’s fine. On her way home. I thought you might like something to eat.”

He’s pulling me along, guiding me with his hand on my back, and I stop. “That’s why you had to take me away without bothering to speak with someone I’ve known for years?”

Finn avoids my gaze. “I didn’t think it wise for you to be seen with him.”

Anger overpowers shame, flaring hot inside my chest. “Because he’s a servant? Because he’s not fine enough for this fancy room and these fancy people? Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but neither am I!”

Scowling, Finn grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd as though I am a petulant child. We enter a small side room with furniture draped in protective sheets.

“Why are we in here? Am I embarrassing you?”

“Don’t be petty, Jessamin. Of course I don’t care that he’s a servant.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Then why the rush to keep me from speaking with him in front of all of your noble peers?”

“I care nothing about them! Forgive me if I’d rather not see you speaking with a handsome man who is clearly interested in you!”

I stop, mouth open. Finn was jealous? That’s what this is about? “Kelen is an old friend.” Or used to be. I’m not sure he can ever forgive me for what I’ve become, not after what this country did to his mother.

Finn takes a deep breath, calming his features. “It’s not safe. That’s all. Lord Downpike could see you chatting and identify Kelen as a potential target. There is a reason I have no close friends, no history with anyone. I can only protect so many people at once, Jessa.”

I narrow my eyes at him using my nickname. “So that is what you are doing with Ma’ati and Jacky Boy? Taking them under your protection?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And me?”

“Why would I not want to protect you?”

“Yes, taking away my job, putting me in a room I cannot afford on my own, the walks in the park, the meals, constantly hanging around the library and the hotel, dressing me like a spineless Alben lady and parading me around. You are doing precisely what I asked you not to, precisely what I refused to accept when you wanted to hide me away in some country estate. You’re trying to control me!” And I’ve let him. I’ve pretended to hate it, pretended at resisting it, but here I am. I think back on how happy I was to be on his arm earlier this evening and I cannot understand who I am or what I have done.

I know how I felt when I saw him waiting for me in the hotel. I can’t deny that. But I let myself be pulled along in the wake of people with more power than I will ever have. Kelen is right. I will never be an equal here.

Finn’s calm demeanor shatters, and he takes a step directly in front of me, forcing me to look up to see his face. “I’m not trying to control you! Spirits below, I’m trying to court you! Can you not see the difference?”

I lean back, needing some space between us so I can think, so I can breathe. “But . . . but you don’t want—I mean, you’re trying to break the shadow connection. I thought you wanted to be free of it. We agreed.”

He throws his hands in the air. “I told you how rare it is. I have only known one couple my entire life who shadowed each other.”

“Then ask them how to break it!”

His shoulders slump, and he turns away from me. “They’re dead. My parents were shadowed from the moment they met, and they loved each other more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Clearly I was a fool to dream I could have the same thing.”

His admission that he wants me, a relationship with me, leaves me scrambling to sort out how to respond. I shouldn’t be so shocked, but Albens are never so open about how they feel. “I can’t—I don’t want—I never wanted my mother’s life. I don’t want to be an Alben’s dusky prize.”

He recoils as though I’ve struck him. “For all you think we judge you, I have never once cared about the color of your skin or the country of your birth. But it would appear you cannot get past mine.” He reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out his deck of cards, letting them drop to the floor. “I will no longer try to be anything more than a burden to you. But don’t think for one moment I will stop protecting you.”

He moves to storm from the room, then stops, turns toward me, and bows, a cold, detached look on his face like the night of the gala. It hurts far more than I ever thought possible. “Good-bye, Jessamin.”

I watch him leave, too stunned to speak. Leaning down, I pick up the top card from the deck strewn on the carpet. It’s LOVERS, the edges far more worn than any of the others, as though it had been held and looked at a thousand times over.