“Tomorrow,” he answered. “At eight o’clock sharp.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you here at eight.” I took another stair down, only to feel his presence follow me.
“Wait, Miss Neven. Let me walk you home.”
I pivoted and held up my hand. “That’s not necessary.”
Phelan glanced beyond me to the streets, dark patches punctured by the wavering beacons of lamplight. This was a quiet, aristocratic segment of the city, composed of families who were all home for the night. But there were other parts of Endellion that were dangerous to roam alone. I read the lines in his brow. He was worried about this, as well as curious to know where, exactly, I hailed from.
“Then let me call a horse and cab for you,” he said.
“No, I truly don’t need one,” I insisted. “I prefer to walk, especially after that rich dinner.” I took another step away from him and he held his ground. “Good night, Mr. Vesper.”
I strode over the flagstone path to the gate and slipped out into the street.
I waited until I was three blocks away before I called my own horse and cab. It would have taken me all night to make the walk from the southern quadrant up to the north peak of the city, where my mother’s town house resided.
Alone at last, I relaxed in the coach, the cushion smelling of cheap perfume. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, exhaustion creeping over me. But Phelan’s words continued to sound in my mind, like an instrument that would not cease playing.
You challenged me as if you were a nightmare on a new moon.
He had no idea.
14
The front door was unlocked. I let myself in, quietly latching the door behind me. I followed the threads of voices and candlelight into the kitchen, where my parents and Imonie sat at a table, waiting for me to come home.
My mother saw me first.
I stood on the threshold, where the firelight could wash over me, and I waited for her to ask who I was—a stranger in her home. She said nothing but her face went pale. She set her teacup down with a clatter in its saucer and that was when I realized she knew, somehow, that it was me.
“Ambrose,” she said, but it was too late. My father was turning in his chair, to see what had transfixed my mother’s attention.
He frowned and instantly rose, scaring Dwindle down the hallway.
“Who are you?” he asked, and while he was polite, I saw the gleam of fear in him. He sensed it, too, and he didn’t want to believe it.
“Papa,” I said, and he flinched. “It’s me.”
He took a step back as if I had struck him. Imonie buried her face in her hands and my mother was frozen, watching us with bloodshot eyes.
“What have you done?” he cried, and his devastation was like a dagger in my side. “Clem . . . what have you done?”
“You may want to live your life without magic,” I said. “But I don’t. You may be content to live in the city, working in the mines, but I long to go home to Hereswith. I’m not done fighting for it, Papa.”
My father tore his fingers through his hair. He shot a fierce look at my mother and asked, “Did you encourage this, Sigourney?”
“No,” my mother said. “Whatever magic she used to transform . . . it was not mine.”
Papa paced through the kitchen. “Why? Why have you done this?” he asked, coming to a halt before me. “You were perfect the way you were, Clem.”
“This won’t last forever.”
“How long, then?”
“The disguise will break when I want it to,” I answered, hoping my parents believed me. I didn’t know for certain how easily this magic would relinquish me. If my spirit was cold, then it might take a long time to chip away the stone in my chest.
“You still haven’t answered me,” he said. “Why have you done this?”
“I want to know why they chose Hereswith, why they chose to challenge us,” I whispered. “I want to know their secrets. I want them to feel the same pain as us—to lose something that means the world to them. To feel the sharp edge of their own selfishness.”
“Who are you speaking about?” Papa rasped, but he knew.
“I’ve become Phelan’s partner. He’s a dream warden in the southern quarter of the city.”
“Phelan Vesper?”
I nodded.
“He doesn’t know it’s you, does he?” Papa said, and he chuckled. The sound was familiar; I made the same kind of laughter when I was overwhelmed and furious and afraid. “This is very foolish, Clem. I know what they did to us was agonizing, but you must let it go. This will eat you from within if you don’t, daughter.”
Let it go.
He might have found peace by doing such, but I couldn’t.
“Papa . . .” I reached for his hand, and for an anguished moment I thought he would jerk away from me. But he wove his fingers with mine, fingers that were now smudged and stained from work in the mines. A place he should not be, as if he wanted to forget and hide who he was. “Papa, I know you’re worried, but I’m doing this because families like the Vespers need to know they are not invincible. That they cannot just come and steal someone’s home for their own amusement.”
His eyes flared. He dropped my hand and said, “Go to your room, Clem.”
“But, Papa—”
“Please go. I need a moment.”
He had never ordered me to my room before like this, and my face flushed as I spun and hurried up the stairs to my chamber. A candelabra was lit, and I sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted. It had been a long day. When my father refused to come see me, I washed my face and brushed the tangles from my hair, and I dressed in a soft chemise.
I climbed into bed and sat against the headboard. Beyond my window, the city still teemed with noises, and I longed for the peace and quiet of the countryside. I stared at the door, waiting, and it must have been sometime past midnight when I finally heard Papa softly rap on the door.
“Come in.”
He stepped into the room, haggard and slow, as if his joints ached. I braced myself for the worst until I watched him cast a protective charm around the room, so no one could overhear us. No one, including my mother and Imonie.
Papa stopped at the foot of my bed. He stared at me a moment, like I truly had become a stranger in all ways to him.
“Tell me what spell you have planned to protect yourself,” he said. “A spell that will shield you and give you the chance to flee when Phelan discovers it’s you, and you’ve been deceiving him.”
“He will never know it’s—”
“Clementine.”
I swallowed. “I don’t have one planned yet.”
“Then that is the first order of business. I want you to have it prepared by the end of this week, for me to approve.”
“Very well,” I said, and my mind reeled with potential spells I could spin for such an encounter. If I was truly in danger of Phelan harming me.
“Second order of business,” Papa continued in a gruff voice. “You will obviously be working with Phelan every day as his partner. How do you plan to move to and from his house and here, without him discovering where you live? If he sees me or Imonie . . . your cover will be blown.”