The Wraith and the Rose Page 9

  “What would you have him do, then? Leave the poor souls to dance until they die?” John’s low voice was nearly inaudible.

  Essie’s reply was lost among the clatter of children coming in from the garden.

  Lily wondered what risks Essie meant. Did she know the specifics of what the Wraith did and how he did it?

  When she was leaving that afternoon, she asked Essie, “May I ask how the Wraith gets the children from the Fair Lands to the human world? And how does he find them in the Fair Lands to rescue them?”

  Essie gave her a flat look. “No, you may not ask.”

  “I…” Lily quailed at Essie’s severe expression. “I’m sorry.”

  “Permission to visit here was given under the explicit understanding that you are to ask no questions and take no information out of this building or these grounds. Nothing. Will you abide by this?” Essie held Lily’s gaze.

  “Yes, I will.” Lily’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”

  Essie held her gaze a moment longer. “Be sure that you do,” she said finally.

  That evening, hearing the rumors of the children’s rescue from what Lord Willowhaven had said earlier in the day, the audacity of the rescue took her breath away. The Wraith had masqueraded as a fairy himself and infiltrated the very dance floor of the Fair Court! He must be a formidable magical talent, as well as clever and capable in other ways. Yet he had carried out the brave plan unnoticed. How very fascinating!

  Had a Fair ally been the one to infiltrate the dance floor, while the Wraith had merely been the children’s escort through the veil? That would surely be more logical. Did he have Fair allies at all? Even if he did, such a rescue was daring beyond belief. He had been there, human in the middle of numerous Fair enemies, with children to protect.

  How brave! How dashing! Lily’s heart warmed toward the unknown hero, and she wished again that she might help him in some way.

  Most people had some minor magical talent, but it wasn’t much use. Some people were born lucky; they escaped childhood injuries with scratches and bruises rather than shattered limbs, and they won a few more rounds than was expected at card games or knucklebones. Some were fortunate when they farmed; their animals were fatter and healthier than their pastures would justify, and their harvests were rich. Some were gifted at their craft, and they made beautiful baskets, or swords, or baked delicious pastries.

  No one, not even those of documented Fair Folk ancestry, could boast anything more than minor talent. It was enough to make life a little easier, but not enough to change the course of history. It wasn’t even enough to change one’s life, other than giving one reason to become a farmer rather than a milliner.

  Did the Wraith have an unusually strong magical talent? Was that why he, or perhaps they, were able to navigate the Fair Lands? Was the Wraith even one person? Perhaps it was a team of people, a group of allies under one heroic leader.

  Lily had such a minor talent she had never bothered to develop it much. Her talent seemed to be limited to minor changes in her appearance. She could make her eyes appear a little more gray or a little more blue, but they were still basically blue-gray. The effect wasn’t much stronger than that achieved by wearing a different color dress, and faded within an hour or so if she didn’t concentrate on it periodically.

  She could make her hair stay in curls or elaborate hair styles without use of pins, but only for a short time before the magic faded. Pins were easier, because she didn’t have to think about it. She could, if pressed, change the color of a fabric, and that effect lasted for an hour or two before fading. She had used this technique quite a few times when Father had been gone and they hadn’t been able to afford new clothes. She couldn’t fundamentally change the outfit, but changing the main colors and accents had given the illusion of a larger wardrobe than she possessed.

  If she intended to go into the Fair Lands, she would need to develop her skill. What she would do there was a question for another day.

  She experimented by changing the color of her eyes to a cold silvery blue, like that of Lord Willowvale. She did not like the effect; not only did she not look like herself, but the color seemed to wash out her face, making her look both unfriendly and slightly ill. Next she tried changing her skin tone, from a cool, pale tone through a warm mahogany. None of them seemed right, and what’s more, none of the changes seemed remotely useful.

  She didn’t know how to seem like one of the Fair Folk in word or action, so making her appearance resemble one of them, however briefly, was probably of little use. Next she tried changing her skin to a rougher texture, like that of wood, then lichen. It was surprisingly difficult, but the effect seemed like it would be useful, if her imagined version of the Fair Lands were anything like the truth.

  Her hair could be glamoured to look more like leaves, but she could not make the effect last more than a few minutes. With a week of practice, she could make her dress look like layers of leaves upon a forest floor for nearly half an hour.

  Could she, perhaps, do the same with Oliver? Oliver was just as passionate to help as she was, but he had no gift of glamour. His gift was limited to the fact that his hair always held perfect waves, and his white shirts never stained, which, while both amusing and convenient, was hardly likely to be useful in this endeavor.

  She had promised Oliver she wouldn’t go back into the veil. How might she help the Wraith?

  Chapter 12

  Lord Willowvale’s Suspicions

  The Hathaways were invited to a ball hosted by Lord and Lady Pitts, the Duke and Duchess of Kaylin, which was most definitely a result of being gilded with the social popularity of the Overtons, especially Theo. It stretched the limits of their wardrobes to wear something that had not yet been seen at such an event, for doing so was not only gauche but bordering on disrespectful.

  They arrived in a hired carriage; everyone else had their own coaches and drivers. Sir Jacob asked the coachman to return in four hours.

  “Sir Jacob Hathaway, Lady Hathaway, Mr. Hathaway, and Miss Hathaway.” The butler’s voice carried over the music and sounds of merriment.

  Sir Jacob led the way to Lord and Lady Pitts, where they paid their respects to the host and hostess. The prince was nearby, apparently listening to a quiet, funny anecdote told by Sir Theodore, with Theo, Lady Overton, Lord Selby, and Sir Michael in the same little knot of conversation. They paid their respects, and Theo immediately asked Lily for a dance.

  He whirled her through the next reel, smiling at her the whole time, and directly into the next waltz, his eyes glowing. When the waltz ended, he swept her to the side of the dance floor to ask if she would like any refreshment before the next dance.

  Theo leaned in a little closer to murmur in her ear, “You are so beautiful, Miss Hathaway. I do believe the room is brighter and the music sweeter now that you are here.”

  She blushed furiously, unable to think of a suitable rejoinder, and took a sip of the wine he had procured for her. Finally she managed, “Thank you,” which seemed inadequate to her, but he seemed thoroughly gratified to see her smile and flushed cheeks.

  Lord Willowvale accosted them at this moment. “Would you honor me with the next dance, Miss Hathaway?”

  Having no excuse, since she had just danced with Theo twice, she assented.

  The Fair lord took her hand with perfect courtesy and a cool look at Theo, who smiled warmly in response.

  The dance was a slow one, with many formal turns and changes of partners. When he next strode beside her, he murmured, “You were in the Fair Lands, weren’t you?”

  Lily nearly froze with fear, but managed to keep her expression mostly unchanged. “Why would you say such a thing?” she asked. “How would I even get there?”

  A cold, mirthless smile flickered over his face. “So it is true. Following your brother, I presume?”

  She blinked. “Why would you think either one of us would go to the Fair Lands?” She realized belatedly that he had been guessing, and feared
her weak denial had confirmed his suspicions.

  They stepped away from each other for another turn, and she was faced with Lord Pitts for several moments.

  “Your brother is a fine dancer,” said the fairy when they met each other again, as if that fact were somehow relevant.

  “Yes,” agreed Lily.

  “You have the gift of glamour, too. I see it on your dress.” Lord Willowvale’s icy eyes flicked up and down her dress.

  He must see through the glamour she’d used to hide the fraying threads on her sleeves and mended tear near the edge of her skirt.

  “Well, wouldn’t you use a bit of glamour to look a little better dressed than you really are?” She felt strangely defensive. She wasn’t ashamed of having little money; she was proud of her family and her father. Money didn’t make a family or a man better, and indeed made some men worse.

  The fairy smiled, startled, and said with a low laugh, “Fairies have no need of glamour to outshine any human. Pardon me, Miss Hathaway; I must go speak with your brother.” He stepped out of the dance only a moment before it ended.

  She followed at a cautious distance, both curious and concerned, though unsure what she could possibly do to help. Why did he want to speak to Oliver?

  Oliver had been listening to Lord Radclyffe and several other lords discussing the merits of various fencing instructors when Lord Willowvale reached the little group.

  “Oliver Hathaway,” the fairy said coldly.

  Oliver looked up. “Yes, my lord?”

  “What business do you have in the Fair Lands?”

  The little circle fell into a shocked silence.

  Oliver paled. “None, my lord.” His voice was steady, somewhat to Lily’s surprise. He raised his chin. “Why?”

  Lord Willowvale shifted, and Lily thought he looked like a snake about to strike. “I have reason to believe you were in the Fair Lands, and the only human adult who has ventured into the Fair Lands is the Wraith, and perhaps his sister.”

  Lord Radclyffe said stiffly, “I have no knowledge of the Wraith, but if young Hathaway were he, he would have allies here. Any man here would be honored to be so accused.”

  The fairy grinned, sharp and feral. “I have no doubt of that. Who here has the gift of glamour but for his little sister? I do wonder what gift you have, to be able to traverse the veil between our worlds.”

  Oliver glanced at Lily, then back at the fairy. “I am honored, my lord, that you think me so clever and courageous. If I were the hero, I would likely not admit it, but if I were not, I could hardly tell you about his methods.”

  Theo Overton appeared at Oliver’s shoulder and said, as if he meant only for the fairy to hear, “My Lord Willowvale, it is unseemly to make such serious accusations at a ball. Pray contain yourself.”

  Lord Willowvale snarled at him, “Silence, you insolent puppy! I will conduct my investigation as I see fit!”

  Theo blinked, as if innocently astonished at the fairy’s anger. “Of course, my lord, but it may be to your advantage not to have everyone hate you.”

  “I care nothing for human regard.” Lord Willowvale reached out and grabbed Oliver by the lower jaw, forcing the young man’s face upward. Oliver was tall, but the fairy was taller, and his reed-thin body apparently held enormous strength, for Oliver tried in vain to pull away.

  Lord Willowvale held Oliver’s gaze, his lips curled in an expression of disgust.

  Lord Radclyffe and the others were frozen in horror at the fairy’s violence; two had reflexively reached for swords they were not wearing. Sir Jacob began pushing his way closer, but he was on the far side of the ballroom. He opened his mouth to shout, then apparently decided to hold his tongue.

  Theo gently put a hand on Lord Willowvale’s shoulder, ignoring the fairy’s irritated twitch.

  “My lord, contain your anger,” he said, with a sharper edge of warning. “You will find yourself at a great disadvantage in your search for the Wraith if we are forced to perforate your insides with steel. I would much rather not, since you’ve been such a pleasant addition to our court, but I will if necessary.”

  The fairy held Oliver’s gaze for another moment, then gave him a soft, contemptuous push away. “I don’t think you’re capable of what the Wraith has done,” he murmured. “I could be wrong. He is apparently capable of appearing different than he is.”

  Oliver stood up straighter. “I am honored by the accusation, my lord, though I will confess that your assertion I am incapable of the Wraith’s feats is a stinging insult. Out of the respect I hold for our host, I will overlook your ill manners and the insult.”

  The fairy laughed. “Indeed you will, for you do not wish to challenge me.”

  Theo said quietly, “Do not make yourself even more unwelcome than you already are, Lord Willowvale.”

  Lord Willowvale rounded on him with glittering eyes and bared teeth. “Silence, I said!”

  “I am not your puppy, Lord Willowvale, and I do not answer to you.” Theo smiled sweetly. “Just as you answer to your king, I answer to mine.”

  The fairy clenched his fists and glared, then looked around the ballroom, his eyes narrowing in thought. Lily sidled to Oliver’s side and whispered, “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Oliver was trembling, though Lily thought it was more likely due to suppressed anger than fear.

  Lord Willowvale said nothing when Theo gently shouldered himself between Oliver and the fairy, then edged Oliver and Lily further away.

  “What a disagreeable guest,” he murmured to them. “It really is most discourteous to attempt to provoke a fight at a social event. I commend you on your even temper, Oliver.”

  Oliver snorted and sent a glare over his shoulder at the fairy. “I wish I’d had your presence of mind.”

  Theo bowed gallantly. “I can be relied upon to have a ready store of pretty words for most occasions, and I am at your service.” This theatrical behavior provoked the desired reaction—startled laughter from Oliver and a radiant smile from Lily.

  Theo suggested to Lily, “Perhaps a dance might take your mind off the unpleasantness. Would you so honor me, Miss Hathaway?”

  She smiled and put her hand in his.

  “Oliver, I believe Lady Araminta does not yet have a partner for this dance,” Theo said with a nod toward Araminta.

  Oliver’s expression brightened, then he shot a look at Theo. He leaned in closer to murmur, “Is it that obvious?”

  Theo smiled conspiratorially. “No. I am a man deeply in love, and so I am exceptionally perceptive to signs of love when I see them. Go, then, and show your heart.”

  Oliver shook his head hurriedly. “How can I do that?”

  “With courage!” Theo whisked Lily into the dance and gave Oliver an encouraging, “Go on, then!” before they moved across the floor.

  When Lily and Theo were out of earshot, Lily murmured, “That was quite smoothly done. Whose interest did you notice first?”

  Theo beamed at her. “His. I haven’t had eyes for anyone but you since I first saw you, and when I had noticed her before, Oliver was not here to be pined over. I first saw him carefully avoiding any semblance of interest while sneaking surreptitious looks her direction at every opportunity. Then I saw she was doing the same thing, only with more batting of eyelashes and pretty little sighs. I take it this is a long-standing affection?”

  Lily blushed. “Yes, although I confess I knew more of her side than his. I had not realized he was interested at all, much less that he was so smitten.”

  “Oliver and I are much alike,” Theo said seriously. “I hid my affection for quite a long time before revealing it to you.”

  Lily giggled. “A matter of minutes, at most.”

  “It felt like ages.” Theo spun her and brought her back to him. His murmured count helped her get back into the rhythm of the dance, and his hazel eyes danced in delight as she smiled her thanks.

  The next morning, Theo spoke to his young guest over breakfast. “Juniper, wo
uld you mind very much letting me know what Miss Hathaway is using her glamour for? Lord Willowvale mentioned it last night and I can’t see it myself.”

  “Do you think she is hiding some deformity?” the fairy asked.

  “I shouldn’t think her gift strong enough for that.” Theo frowned.

  “Would it matter if she was?” Juniper looked at Theo curiously.

  Theo blinked. “No, I don’t think so. I am just curious; I should hate to think that the kind look in her eyes or the sweetness of her smile are false, and she is actually sneering or mocking, thinking no one can see it.”

  Juniper nodded sagely. “You have not known her long?”

  “No.” Theo shook his head. “I was so sure, though. The hint, or potential, of being deceived is my only concern.”

  “When will I have opportunity to see her?” Juniper toyed with the last of the buttered toast on his plate. “I owe you so much, Theo. I really don’t think you’ve any idea how terrifying His Majesty’s magic is, or how cruel Lord Willowvale is when provoked.”

  Theo smiled at him serenely. “I am confident that I shall eventually find out. Until then, may I borrow as much binding magic as you can give me?”

  Juniper’s pale blue eyes widened. “I’d do nearly anything for you. You may have everything I can give.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been borrowing from the others, but you are quite a bit stronger, and I do believe I should like to bring this to an end within the next few months.” Theo’s smile wavered for a moment. “It’s actually quite upsetting to see how terrified the children are, and I find no enjoyment in the rage that fills me when I think of the ones still waiting for rescue.” He took a sip of hot tea and composed his face into his customary smile. “As for when you shall see her, I was hoping to call upon her this morning. I’ll take a carriage, and you may accompany me. I’ll deliver a vase of flowers and hope that she will come to the door to accept them. If she does, you will see her clearly. If she doesn’t,” Theo shrugged, “I will think of something else.”