Iron Garland (Harbinger Book 3) Page 23

  He was trying to intimidate her. And he was doing an excellent job of it. Despite herself, she felt cowed by his presence and his display of power.

  “No,” she mumbled, unable to conceal the trembling in her legs.

  “Well then, young lady, I suggest that you cooperate with me. Enough secrets. Our empire hangs on the brink of destruction. A primeval monster is still on the loose. An irreplaceable artifact has been stolen from Billerbeck Abbey. You know of this because you were there. Did you take it?”

  “No!” Cettie protested.

  “Do you know who did?”

  She suspected, yes, but that was not what he’d asked. “I don’t,” she stammered. She tried to calm herself and her thoughts, but she was thoroughly rattled. She remembered Caulton telling her of Mr. Skrelling’s visit. But surely, surely, he wouldn’t have stolen the orb? She’d always known him to be a straightforward man.

  Besides, if he had stolen it, wouldn’t it have been found? She determined to send a zephyr post to Billerbeck to inform Caulton. Perhaps he’d discovered the news already for himself. Clearly the prime minister had been told of the Fear Liath escaping as well.

  “You hesitate. You cannot refuse to answer my question. Do you know who your parents are? Or who stole the Cruciger orb?”

  “I-I don’t know . . . for certain.”

  “Yes? Say on.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. His thoughts were incredibly powerful, his will indomitable, but she didn’t trust him in the least. What would Fitzroy have done in this situation?

  He would have stood up to the man.

  “I don’t understand why this is so important,” Cettie hedged.

  Lord Welles’s eyes blazed with anger. “Who you are is very important. Do you not realize that there has not been a harbinger in centuries? One must be very strong in the Mysteries. One must be chosen by the Knowing. Who are you, a little chit from the Fells? Or did you have more august parentage?”

  “Isn’t it possible the Knowing chose me because I am of lesser birth?” Cettie argued. “Isn’t the pride of the empire leading to its downfall?”

  Scowling at her, he pushed away from the table and started pacing. “I don’t have time for this nonsense,” he muttered. “You claim to be a harbinger? Is that so?”

  “I have visions of the future. Yes. They have all come to pass.”

  “What was the last one that you had?”

  “I saw Sera Fitzempress at the court of Kingfountain. Father was there too.”

  “How did you know it was the court of Kingfountain? Have you been there?”

  “Of course not! One cannot cross a mirror gate without permission and the proper covenants.”

  “So then how do you know?”

  “The visions I experience are very vivid, Prime Minister. They are not the same as dreams. I can learn things without being told them. It’s difficult to explain. The previous visions showed me where General Montpensier would attack next. I warned Father so he could defend us.”

  Welles bared his teeth. “Our defense has been in your hands all along.”

  “I didn’t choose my role, Lord Welles. You were given that choice—I was not.”

  His feelings were ruffled by her comment. “I serve at the pleasure of the emperor. He’s a weak-willed man.”

  “I know. That is why you preferred him to Sera. She would have been the better choice.”

  That her words were true probably galled him all the more. “We don’t always get what we desire,” he answered curtly. “Now, will you answer my question? Do you suspect anyone of being your parent?” He paused, his eyes fixed on her, then asked, “Does Fitzroy shield you so much because he is your true father? Is there a scandal beneath all this?”

  “No,” Cettie said, shaking her head. “How can you even accuse him of it?”

  “Long study in the school of human nature,” he replied mockingly. “Sometimes the most devout are the most depraved.”

  “If you can even suspect him, then you do not know him at all,” Cettie answered. “He has protected me and shielded me because of men like you. I am finished answering your questions.”

  Lord Welles screwed up his mouth into a frown. He had tried to bully her—and failed. The sour expression on his face revealed as much. “As I said, I hoped to spare you the scrutiny of certain members of the privy council. The emperor already doesn’t like you.”

  “I think you hoped to control me,” Cettie answered simply. “If you shut down Dolcoath, then you will only be hurting your own ministry. The weather always changes, Prime Minister. You might have forgotten that.”

  He was taken aback by her comment, his look softening. “You are a shrewd negotiator, young lady.”

  “Not at all,” she answered, straightening. “I don’t know why the Knowing chose me. Only that I was chosen. If I have another vision, what should I do?”

  “You can’t control them?”

  “One doesn’t control the Mysteries, Prime Minister.”

  “True. Mr. Forshee said you were exceptionally gifted. Well, I suggest that we continue to keep this a secret. The Cruciger orb was stolen. Our high admiral is a prisoner of war. And Miss Fitzempress is on a peace mission in Kingfountain.” His brows narrowed. “I have a suspicion there may be a traitor in the government. Were it to become public knowledge that you are the harbinger, your life would be at risk as well.” He shook his head. “I can’t afford that risk.”

  Cettie looked at him, dumbfounded. “So you never intended to bring me to the privy council?”

  “Not unless I absolutely had to,” he replied flippantly. “Stay here for now. You will be coming to Lockhaven soon with another report to sell?”

  She nodded. “I have already begun preparing it.”

  “Very well. If you get another vision, then send a zephyr post at once to Sir Jordan. I will contact you through a Leering to hear the details.”

  “What Leering?”

  “Why . . . any one that I choose.” He gave her an enigmatic smile and bowed to her before leaving.

  Two days after Lord Welles departed, they had another visitor—Joanna Patchett from Gimmerton Sough. Her hair and dress were fashioned in the latest style, and she even carried a parasol trimmed with lace and silk. So altered was she from her previous visit that Cettie hardly recognized her as she watched her approach through the Control Leering’s eyes. Since Cettie was busy with the latest reports, Kinross greeted Joanna at the door and brought her to see Lady Maren and Anna in the sitting room. But he came to see Cettie immediately afterward.

  “Yes?” she said, looking up from the notes.

  “Miss Patchett is asking where you are. She had hoped you would be with the family as well. She wishes to speak with you.”

  Cettie set down her quill and followed Kinross to the sitting room. As soon as she entered the room, Joanna brightened immediately and rose to greet her.

  “You are my friend forever,” Joanna said, hurrying forward to kiss her on the cheek.

  Cettie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, you do not dote on Stephen as much as I do Rand, so you might not understand.” She took Cettie’s hands in hers and squeezed them. “Lady Maren, I am so hopelessly in debt to Cettie that I cannot possibly repay her. She has transformed my brother.” Her smile was beaming. “He’s helping Mr. Batewinch supervise the renovation of the manor. It’s not so dark and oppressive anymore. He’s so much like his old self again.” She sighed with wonder. “I owe it all to you.”

  Cettie was embarrassed by the praise, but she hugged Joanna back and then joined the gathering by sitting on a nearby couch. Joanna shared it with her, choosing her above the others.

  “I’m glad to hear your brother is so improved,” Mother said. “There was a time when I was very sick. She helped restore me as well.” The loving, grateful look she gave Cettie filled her with warmth and reassurance.

  “I don’t think we can overestimate her worth,” Joanna said. “
What do you think of your almost-sister, Anna?”

  “I adore her,” Anna said with a pretty smile.

  “And we all know she is wisdom itself,” Joanna continued. She took Cettie’s hands in hers again. “I received notice this morning from Miss Ransom, inviting us to a ball at her manor in Lockhaven. The event will be in honor of the fallen soldiers, and there will be donations, of course, going to the soldiers’ families. I think it a very fine idea. Miss Ransom specifically requested Rand to come. She knows he’s a wounded soldier and feels that his presence would encourage others to be generous. I would like to go, but I confess some unease. You know how outspoken my brother can be in social situations. I wondered if I might cajole you to come with us? All of you,” she added, but she squeezed Cettie’s hand plaintively.

  Lady Maren tilted her head. “I don’t think the Ransoms would invite us, Miss Patchett.”

  What she was too well-mannered to say was that Lady Corinne would never have encouraged her young admirer to invite them. Indeed, it was curious the Patchetts were so kind to them given how little patience their high-ranking friend had for the Fitzroy family.

  Joanna gazed at her with confidence. “They will if I ask them to.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY−SIX

  THE RANSOM BALL

  Cettie had never imagined being invited to a ball in Lockhaven. But Joanna Patchett had some uncanny influence, and an invitation to the charity event had arrived with particular mention of Miss Cettie of Fog Willows. She piloted the tempest into the landing yard of the spacious manor, which was already crowded with ships. Servants with Leering lanterns helped direct the incoming arrivals.

  “That’s Welles’s tempest,” Mother said from the edge of the vessel, gazing down at the courtyard as they slowly approached.

  “I’m surprised the prime minister came,” Anna said worriedly.

  “The Ransoms are well connected,” Mother answered. She flashed Cettie a determined look. They’d discussed Lord Welles’s visit several times since it had happened days before. “We all must be on our guard. He may try to bully us again.”

  Cettie nodded with a grim-faced expression. Lady Maren and Anna were both dressed in their best formal gowns, but Cettie had chosen instead to wear her favorite velvet dress. She looked more matriarchal than a young woman at a ball should, which was her intention. She did not believe that Joanna’s ability to secure an invitation for her meant she would actually be welcomed. She had been snubbed at too many dances at Muirwood Abbey to wish to repeat the experience. They had prepared a sizable donation for the occasion, and Cettie planned to stay in the background while Anna enjoyed herself.

  Cettie was directed to land the tempest before the main doors in the ample courtyard, which she did. The gangway was lowered, and servants arrived to assist the family down. One of the men took the invitation, read the names, and then looked up at Cettie quizzically.

  “Where’s the pilot? I don’t see him.”

  “I am the pilot,” she answered bluntly.

  His surprise increased. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I’ll have to ask you to moor your tempest yourself, then. If you please. The pilots are all drinking cider in the gaming room.” He bowed apologetically.

  Lady Maren looked back at her in concern, but Cettie waved her on. “I’ll join you after I’m done. Go on ahead.”

  The lantern light gleamed off Anna’s golden hair, and Cettie wondered at the reception she would receive. Anna was also nineteen and unmarried, but she was the legitimate heiress to a sizable fortune. Her reticence to become attached was due solely to her feelings for Adam Creigh. Cettie’s mood darkened at the thought. If only Anna were more changeable . . . if only she’d find someone else to fancy tonight . . . Yet she knew her sister’s feelings had remained as steadfast as her own.

  Cettie followed the servant’s directions and brought the tempest down alongside the others. Those who lived in Lockhaven came by zephyr, but there were many larger tempests moored in the yard. After securing the Leerings and ordering them to warn her if anyone tried to board the ship, she climbed down the rope ladder and made her way through the crowd of sky ships.

  The prime minister’s tempest was not the only one she recognized.

  Her stomach lurched at the sight of the Glennam, Captain Francis’s ship. Cettie pursed her lips, realizing that Lady Maren was walking into a dangerous situation. She quickened her pace.

  When she reached the main doors, the servant greeted her pleasantly and said she would introduce her, but Cettie declined and made her way into the bustling throng. Immediately, she felt out of place. Her gown was dark green with black and silver stripes. She wore no hat or gloves or fancy shawl. The women gathered at the ball were all sumptuously dressed in the latest fashions, with stiff bone bodices and frilled collars, nearly every inch of skin covered save for their faces. Their hats were bedecked with flowers and feathers and beaded pearls.

  The men, of course, were also dressed to bedazzle. There was an abundance of military officers and many men in blue dragoon jackets. So many that Cettie found herself going face by face looking for Rand. She didn’t see him in the company, nor did she see Lady Maren or Anna.

  As Cettie wove her way through the room, she heard the light strains of music coming from the walls, but she also spotted a small ensemble with their instruments out and ready, preparing for the dancing. And she couldn’t help but notice the looks that came her way from the other young women and some of the officers. They seemed to agree with her self-assessment—she did not belong.

  A young officer suddenly stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. “You are Miss Cettie from Fog Willows, are you not?” He gave a curt bow.

  “I-I am,” she stuttered, still straining to spy the rest of her family.

  “I’m Bryson Esplin,” he said, bowing again. “We went to school together at Muirwood.”

  His face did look suddenly familiar, but she remembered no previous interactions with him.

  “I served under Admiral Fitzroy,” he said. “He was a fine man. An honest one. He will be missed. I wanted to offer my condolences. Thank you for coming, Miss Cettie.”

  Emotion gathered in her throat. She had not expected such a greeting, but she genuinely appreciated the sentiment. Even more so because the young man did not ask anything of her in return. He simply bowed once more and stepped away.

  There was an abrupt end to the Leering music, and the strains of real violins began to fill the air. Shortly thereafter, a song began, and the middle of the enormous hall cleared, making room for the couples coming to start the first dance. Cettie spied Anna among them, across from a young man who was a stranger.

  That left Lady Maren alone. Cettie continued to work her way around the perimeter of the room, eager to find her. The dancing started, and the couples began the formal steps in precise rhythm. It was considered a disaster if a turn was missed or a clap done out of sequence. Joanna was one of the dancers, and Cettie admired her pretty gown and the beautiful smile lighting her face.

  “Would you like a drink, miss?” asked a uniformed servant holding a silver tray with several small goblets on it.

  “No, thank you,” Cettie refused, still searching.

  Seating lined the walls, and many of the older women had congregated around the chairs and sofas to gossip. Several of them gave Cettie cold looks as she passed by, increasing her discomfort. The song ended, and another began, but Anna had already been swept up by another young man, an officer this time. Working her way slowly around the sides of the ballroom, Cettie finally spied Lady Maren in the far corner.

  Just as she’d feared, her mother had been trapped by a man in conversation.

  Frowning in displeasure, Cettie wove her way closer to them, watching the dancers out of her peripheral vision and feeling more and more discomfited by the looks she was getting. Somehow Father had always managed to look unaffected by the slights given him. You must take your lesson from him, she told herself. She walked firmly and delib
erately, trying not to care what anyone else thought of her.

  As Cettie drew nearer, she recognized it was Captain Francis who spoke to her mother in urgent low tones. She arrived in time to hear some of his words.

  “I will divorce her, Maren, regardless of what you say. I regret what I did to you all those years ago. Can we not have another chance?”

  He must have heard Cettie’s footsteps, for he turned as if he expected to bark at a servant. When he saw her, his eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed in wariness.

  Lady Maren replied with animosity, “This is neither the time nor the place to have such a conversation, Clive. If you had any regard for my feelings whatsoever, you would leave me alone.”

  “But I cannot speak to you because of your pet dragon who guards the gate,” he said savagely, giving Cettie a spiteful look.

  “That is my daughter you are treating with such disrespect, Clive. Now go.”

  The captain chuffed with a snort. “Oh, so you’ve managed to secure the adoption after all? I think I would have heard. You must let me talk to you. Can I come to Fog Willows again without being driven off like a criminal by your Bhikhu?”

  “If I’d wanted to see you, Clive, you would have been admitted. Now please. Go.”

  “Maren,” he said in a low, familiar way. “Don’t send me away. You have every right to be angry for how I treated you. How I shamed you. I have been a miserable creature ever since. Have pity on me. You chose better for yourself than I did for myself. But you cannot deny that what we shared was real.” He shook his head slowly. “I have not forgotten it. Nor will I.”

  Cettie wanted to repel him like Raj Sarin had. It was at just such a ball that this man had driven Lady Maren to act against propriety, which had hurt her standing in society for a number of years. Father had already loved her back then, although it had not yet been reciprocated. She could only imagine the pain this moment was causing Mother.

  Lady Maren’s cheeks were flushed with heat. “I will not speak with you any longer.” She reached for Cettie’s arm, and the two of them left Captain Francis alone in the corner.