Twenty-four

I SIT IN A SUN-DRENCHED SPOT NEAR THE FLOOR-to-ceiling windows in the library. Finn won’t tell me where it looks out to, and the glass is treated so that outside is nothing but bright blurs of color. This is my favorite room in all of Avebury.

Assuming, of course, that the windows actually look out on Avebury. Which I have found is not a safe assumption. Nothing is a safe assumption in this house, considering one of the doors next to the bathroom opens into my room at the hotel—an addition Finn insists he made while he was staying there.

After much pestering, Finn admitted he inherited most of the house from his parents. They’d taken the time to craft doors and spell them to open onto several residences throughout the city. One room from a house in Kingston neighborhood, another near the palace, another on the outskirts of the city along the river, so on and so forth. I haven’t been in most of them—it makes me nervous to open a door not knowing where it will take me—but it does solve the problem of finding space in a crowded city.

I find myself spending more and more time here. Using a new front door in the park, of course. I made him remove the door that connected to my hotel room. Though it would have been convenient . . .

Finn does not seem to mind my visits. Neither do I.

I watch him, bent over two books, comparing things and taking notes. That’s his main occupation. I write essays and study calculus. He copies things from the book that is Sir Bird and tries to puzzle out what the particular spells accomplish. His playful, arrogant face is nowhere to be found. A line takes up residence between his eyebrows, and I find myself wanting to trace it with my fingertip.

He looks up and catches me staring, so I stammer, “I—I thought I told you not to wear the brown tie anymore.”

“When did you tell me that?”

“I told your shadow.”

He laughs. “I promised you I wasn’t an eavesdropper. Any future instructions should be delivered in person.” He turns back to the book but I lean forward, wanting to keep him in conversation.

“Are you certain Ma’ati and Jacky Boy are out of harm’s way at your country estate?”

“Yes, of course. No one knows where it is.”

“Why did you hire them? I thought you couldn’t keep servants.”

“You trust them. That was recommendation enough for me. Besides, I’ve met Jacabo and can’t imagine a better man to employ.”

“What happens if they go through a closet door and end up on the moon, or wherever else your strange hallways lead?”

“The estate is relatively untouched. They should find nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Did you grow up there?”

His face clouds. “No. I was raised in a different house.”

I wait for him to offer more information about his childhood, but he is quiet as always on that subject so I let him go back to his studies while I continue mapping differentials, my mind only half on the problems. I am looking forward to finishing up this season of course work and taking more challenging classes, though again I will not be allowed in the advanced mathematics.

Finn slams the book shut, huffing in frustration. It immediately poofs into a mess of feathers, Sir Bird cawing angrily and jabbing his beak at Finn’s fingers.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I forget you’re both.”

“Take better care of my friend,” I say, trying not to laugh at their equally grouchy expressions.

“I feel so limited.” Finn scowls. “I can’t keep tabs on Lord Downpike like I used to.”

“Why not?”

“Oh.” He gets a look on his face that settles there when he does not wish to tell me something. “I’ve never employed familiars. They’re less than dependable, no offense to present company. Lord Downpike can store magic in them and have them act semi-autonomously, but, as demonstrated by Sir Bird, giving magic to a creature with a mind of its own is not foolproof. As far as I can tell, when Sir Bird severed the connection, he also cut off Lord Downpike from all these spells. He’ll have to start over from scratch on any that he was storing. Which makes me very happy.

“But I digress. No familiars, but my mother taught me to have an unusual degree of control over my shadow. In the past, I’ve sent my shadow on errands, used it for ears or eyes. Shadows can get away with a great deal. No one notices them, and there are so many dim places to hide.”

I frown, a memory tickling the back of my head. “The day we first met. When I got back to the hotel, I could have sworn I saw two shadows where only mine should have been.”

Finn is suddenly absorbed in looking at his own fingernails. “You asked me not to follow you home, and I didn’t. Exactly. But I had to make certain you got back safely.” He glances up, face defensive as though he expects me to be angry.

“So that’s how you knew where I lived.”

“And probably how Lord Downpike discovered you. I hadn’t suspected he would be watching me so closely. We’ve been playing political cat and mouse for two years now, and I was too relaxed. But if you noticed my shadow, no doubt he did as well.”

“We’d only just met! Why did you care enough to send your shadow?”

He gives me a shoulder shrug of a smile. “You make a first impression.”

A clock, buried beneath a pile of books on the mantel, chimes the time and saves me from the blood rushing to my face and demanding I answer him. “Oh, that’s me late. I promised to call on Eleanor today. She’s been lonely at Lord Rupert’s house.”

“I will—” He pauses. “Would you like me to come with you?”

I smile and shake my head. “No, you keep up your studies. The sooner you find something to use against Lord Downpike and tip the scales in favor of peace, the sooner we can let poor Sir Bird take up permanent residence in his feathers instead of constantly dwelling as a massive book.” I am tired of being on the defensive against Lord Downpike. I can’t imagine what Finn must feel like after two years of trying to subvert Downpike’s schemes. “Would you show me how it works? When I return, I mean.”

“How what works?”

“That.” I wave my hand at the bird-book and then sweep it to gesture to the bookshelves. “All of this. I know I can’t do it, but I would like to understand how it is done. It is a part of my life now, too, and I refuse to remain ignorant.”

When I enter Eleanor’s guest chambers, I find her leaning over an ornate desk, expression intent as she holds a flower up to her head.

No, not her head. Her ear. “What are you doing?” I ask.

She straightens with a surprised shriek. “Oh, Jessamin! It’s just you. Well. This is embarrassing.” She smiles guiltily. “I was eavesdropping on the parlor, actually.”

“With . . . a flower.”

“My own spell. Don’t tell anyone. It’s crass to invent new ways to use magic, and everyone would look down on me. But you’ll appreciate this! I gave my aunt a lovely potted plant that I recommended she place in the parlor. A very special potted plant, that allows me to pick a flower and use it as a conduit through which I can hear conversations. I did not gain my reputation as Avebury’s most skilled gossip by chance.”

“You have certainly elevated eavesdropping to new and complicated heights. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just listen outside the door?”

She leans forward. “Here, on my forehead, feel.”

Puzzled, I run my fingers over the spot she indicated. There’s a small indentation. “What is that?”

“When I was eleven, I was listening to an argument between my father and uncle. My father stormed out, and the door hit me so hard it knocked me unconscious and left a permanent dent! So I became more creative in the interest of self-preservation.”

“You are a wonder.”

She beams, lifting the flower again. “I know. Now hush. Uncle is hosting Lord Benton, who has his sights set on a union of the families through Ernest marrying his daughter, Margaret. We hate Margaret, in case you were wondering what our opinion is.”

I nod firmly, sitting on a velvet couch to watch as Eleanor reacts to things I can’t hear. Much eye rolling follows, along with a few sighs.

“Politics,” she mouths, yawning dramatically. But then her eyes narrow and she presses the flower closer to her ear. Her expression changes to one of alarm.

“What is it?”

She shushes me and I wait impatiently until she finally sets down the flower, twisting it distractedly and tearing off the petals. “Well. I do wish I hadn’t heard that. It would seem that Lord Benton, who has long been an advocate for peace along with Uncle, is switching allegiances.”

“He’s supporting Lord Downpike? Why?”

“He didn’t say. But he very strongly urged Uncle to either do the same or step to the side and avoid any position at all.”

“And what did the earl say? Surely he disagreed.”

Eleanor shakes her head sadly. “He said perhaps it was time for him to take my aunt on a long holiday and let things happen however they will.”

“So he’ll allow Downpike to have his own way. Who else stands against him?”

“Other than Lord Ackerly? Fewer and fewer, I’m afraid.” She sits on the couch next to me, and we stare in troubled silence at the tiny flower that delivered such frightening news.