The others stared at Lady Althea, waiting for her to answer. She tried several times to force the words from her throat, but all that happened was that her face turned red from the effort. No words followed her first utterance, and the others did not try to answer for her. They couldn’t. Her reality was hers to share, if she found the strength.
Luther took pity on her. He knew that stammering and blundering too well, even if he hadn’t done it since his youth. His lack of a known arcanum at the time had forced him to embrace trickery, cunning, and deceit when he was coming of age. He recognized the signs of someone caught without a plan for how to answer.
He didn’t doubt that the imperial family sheltered her in the capital, and no one had ever dared ask her such a direct question. Luther had called out a fear that clung to her roots, seated deep in her heart, a secret no one else could discover, or she’d face something worse than exile. To admit insurmountable weakness was to surrender herself to excommunication.
The empire worshipped might. Those without an arcanum had no strength and found their prospects for marriage had vanished. Their fate was to live as weak outcasts in a society of the strong, which was often worse than exile. It made Luther wonder what Althea’s story was, but if he wanted to hear it, he had to calm her first.
“Don’t be afraid of us,” Luther said. He did his best to comfort her without being condescending or pitying. “You are among friends here. None of us will speak of what you say in this room, nor will my servants. They are loyal.”
Althea cast a glance around her with her eyes. Luther, his four wives, their guest Emily, and four servants were in the room. Helena and Jowangshin looked tough in their travel garb. Their fierce expressions weren’t a product of any hatred on their part, but contemplation of what Luther’s question implied and its consequences.
Meanwhile, Eira and Rhosyn remained eerie in their mirrored movements and twin beauty, but soft in their manners and expressions. Pity and sympathy were clear in their kind eyes, and their more typical dresses divorced them from any rough facade that Helena, Jo, and Luther possessed.
Althea lowered her face, gazing at the plate before her, and swallowed. She put her head in her hands and sighed.
“Come now,” Luther said. He didn’t reach for her, despite her seat next to him, but reclined in his seat. He sipped water from his glass and let his fingers linger around the stem as he rested it on the table. “We joke together, drink together, and take breakfast together. You’ve seen me dirty and dressed in my training clothes, a sight no proper business associate would ever see. I’d never allow it to happen, if only to prevent Wulfric from killing me. So you are not a business associate. We are friends, are we not?”
Jowangshin raised an eyebrow, asking Luther how he could be certain that Lady Althea was a friend. Local politics were rife with enemies. Luther imagined imperial politics were orders of magnitude worse. She could be the opposite of a friend, but where the others spotted reasons to fear, Luther recognized an opportunity.
If Althea hadn’t arrived intending to become a friend to the Le Fey clan, then he intended to make her one. Still, if she’d arrived believing that her arcanum might be identical to his, then she had to realize the implications. At the very least, she’d need his help in training her how to activate and manage the arcanum, which meant friendship, if not mentorship.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he stared at Eira over his steepled fingers. Luther smiled at his wife as she met his eyes, and she nodded her approval of what he was about to ask.
“Eira,” Luther said, “do you believe that Lady Althea is our enemy?”
Eira closed her lashes in a slow blink, looking at Luther and then at Althea. “I don’t, but I can always verify.”
“Please,” Luther said, nodding his approval.
Eira’s eyes glossed over as she cast a spell, becoming pure white orbs, and Lady Althea stiffened. Nothing lashed out from Eira. There was no attack, but magic surged through their union, flowing out of her as she spoke the words of the ancient tongue to direct her spell. Luther recognized his name from her lips and Althea’s, as part of the spell.
Althea shifted in her seat.
Luther raised a hand to prevent her from doing anything rash, but it was unnecessary. Eira’s spells weren’t offensive. Althea might not know that, but if he was correct, then Althea could only retaliate with minor tricks or weapons. Luther hoped Eira would see anything like that coming. Althea was fortunate that she’d done this with Luther, and not with another, less scrupulous lord. If she’d been in this situation in Duke Beaudivere’s castle, she might as well have walked into a lion’s den with a lamb’s guts around her neck.
Another slow blink, and Eira’s eyes were clear once more. The pull of her magic on their shared pool ceased. A gentle smile touched her lips, and she gave Luther a knowing look. Eira exuded mystique, and practice had given her the ability to appear as if she knew something others did not.
“No,” Eira said with confidence. “Lady Althea is not our enemy. Nor will she be, from what I’ve seen, though nothing is impossible.”
Jowangshin and Helena both relaxed, letting their shoulders drop from their stiff positions.
“However,” Eira continued. “I do not believe she has your arcanum, Husband. What I’ve seen shows something else.”
Lady Althea choked on air, coughing until she recovered with a sip of water. “How can you tell?”
Eira swallowed, straightening in her chair and adjusting her stance as she shared a look with Rhosyn.
“My spells give me insights into the future,” Eira said. “I cast my eyes ahead and followed you through the day. I couldn’t hear what anyone said or see beyond your sight, but it was enough.”
“Her visions are not infallible,” Rhosyn said. “Divination is difficult magic.”
“My spells show me only what is the most probable,” Eira said, defending her arcanum. “Everything else is shadow.”
“I think I understand,” Althea said, still clinging to hope. “But what did you see?”
“Much,” Eira answered. “From experience, I can tell you that using my visions to tell people what I’ve seen, hoping to change it, can make everything messy. An altered future is sometimes worse than what the gods above ordained. So do not ask me to alter the events once I’ve seen them. Even Luther cannot go against the gods.”
Jowangshin and Rhosyn nodded their approval at Eira’s words, even if Althea couldn’t hope to capture their meaning. They weren’t for her.
Luther held his eyes in check, doing his best not to roll them.
“However, in this case, there’s good news,” Eira said.
Lady Althea nodded, leaning closer to Eira in her anticipation.
“You’ll be going with them on their journey,” Eira said, nodding to Luther. “And you shall discover your arcana soon.”
Luther raised both of his eyebrows. Althea joining them on their quest into the mountains wasn’t an option. It might reveal the purpose of their seeking the Dark Lord’s Tomb. Resurrecting Criella was a noble cause, and one that his wives had agreed to conduct, but both imperial and temple law forbade any magic to deal with the dead. Necromancy was a death sentence. Suggesting they restore Criella to her body and life to an imperial agent was akin to Luther handing her his sword and laying his head on the chopping block.
“But you’ve seen me wield an arcanum?” Althea asked. “I have one?”
The room relaxed. If Lady Althea had hoped to preserve her secret, she’d just given it away by the desperation to know what her arcanum was. She was old enough to have undergone the university’s testing. If, however, her powerful family believed she had no arcana, they might have spared her from the examinations and supplied her with private tutors. Magic was an energy innate to life. Scholars still bickered over the details of its source, functions, and properties. Yet, over the years, the empire developed tests, systems, and documentation to encourage understanding.
Eira’s soft smile remained kind. “That is a matter best discussed in private. Perhaps after breakfast, we can adjourn to the library?”
It was Luther’s turn to ask a silent question. Eira nodded, confirming her surety, and he knew better than to question his foreseeing wife a second time. The library was a dangerous place to take any guests. He’d even forbidden the servants from entering. Criella preferred to spend her time there, and the magic crystals illuminated her. To bring Althea to the library was to risk her seeing Criella, unless Eira was certain that she wouldn’t.
If any of his partners were greedy for his title or displeased with him to the point of murder, they could surrender him to imperial justice. They’d risk their fortune against his guaranteed execution, but they could have and didn’t. Fortunately, he was confident that Eira loved him. She was more supportive of Criella’s restoration than Rhosyn, but even Rhosyn had taken a stance of non-participation, not attempting to forbid him from reuniting with their lost partner. So, what game was Eira playing? What had she seen that made her so confident in Althea?
The mystery tempted him to glimpse the future himself, but the smarter tactic was to wait and preserve their shared pool of power. They might need to use their spells on the journey today. The mountains were dangerous territory.
Althea looked nervous as the others ate. Her shoulders slumped, unlike her former proud, rigid posture. “What journey did you mention?”
“I’m afraid you’ve come at a terrible time for a proper visit,” Luther said, trying to ease the burden. Yet, he realized after he spoke that he’d only added to Althea’s misery. “My wives and I, well, most of us,” he slid his eyes toward Eira and Rhosyn, “are leaving on an expedition today.”
Althea sighed. “I’m glad I rushed against my father’s wishes, then.”
“And who is your father?” Luther asked, seizing on the topic. “I’m afraid I don’t know of a Lord Raphael in the duchy,” Luther said, looking to the others. The name was among the nobility, but it wasn’t the imperial surname, nor was it local. So was it her alias, or one of her parent’s pre-union names? He wondered if she was a product of the emperor’s union, if not descended from the emperor himself. If her lack of an arcanum was still a secret, and she worked as an agent of the throne, then she must have someone high in the hierarchy protecting her.
“Why did you ask if I had fey blood in my ancestry?” Althea asked, ignoring his question and turning to look at Luther as the others ate. “Just because you’re half-fey? Are you one of those who believe that bloodline determines arcana?”
Luther scanned the table, shrugging. “No,” he admitted. “Not exactly. Though I believe there is merit to Errington’s Theory of Traits.”
“I’m not familiar with it,” Althea said, shaking her head.
“Not everyone reads as much as Luther,” Emily said, giving Luther a prompting expression.
“A trait I inherited from my father,” Luther said, laughing. No one else at the table caught the joke, except Emily. She permitted it to tweak her lips into a hint of a grin. “You’ll understand when you see the library.”
“I heard you have one of the most comprehensive private collections,” Althea said. “But you don’t allow others to visit it. You keep it under lock and key.”
“Yes, Emily is working on making it more accessible, with the help of a local artificer friend of the family,” Luther said. “They’ve been copying manuscripts for a local academy we hope to open.”
“A noble idea,” Althea said, but she looked at Emily when she said it, not Luther.
Emily smiled, nodding her gratitude for the compliment as she continued eating.
“But regarding the matter at hand,” Luther said, regaining Althea’s attention. “Barnabus Errington put forth that a lottery of familial relations determines the physical traits of a person. Random combinations may occur, but they are always drawn from the same pool. That’s why children might not always resemble a mother or father, but might resemble a great-grandparent a great deal.”
“It’s not a perfect theory,” Emily said, cutting in.
Luther allowed her, knowing she was about to add much-needed levity to the conversation to lift Althea’s spirits.
“Errington spent most of his treatise focused on the foot shapes and sizes of his observed subjects,” Emily said, chuckling. “But others determined that theory may hold weight regarding facial features and certain maladies. Saltersford built upon the work. She’s even suggested some traits might be dominant and others submissive.”
“Much like people, then,” Helena said, trying to join the conversation.
Jowangshin laughed, then checked herself, schooling her expression in front of their guest.
“It means that some traits appear only if both parental lines share the trait,” Emily said. “Otherwise, the more dominant traits will overtake them.”
“What does that have to do with arcana?” Althea asked, having lost the thread. “You believe arcana are hereditary? There’s so much evidence against it.”
“Perhaps,” Luther said. “Yet, it’s interesting that certain arcana follow family lines, while others don’t, even if they don’t appear in every generation. My arcanum has only appeared with one other figure, and he is of legend, and was also half-fey, according to some sources. Though there may be poor souls out there who have my arcanum and don’t know it because they can’t get anyone to marry them, thinking they have none.”
“Who was the figure you mentioned?” Althea asked, confused.
“Annwyn,” Luther said.
Althea rolled her eyes. “I read those stories when I was young. They’re nothing more than historical fiction.”
“And yet,” Luther said, spreading his arms as he reclined.
Althea watched him. The hope in her eyes had died. Yet the sorrow filling her had faded as they talked. Luther grimaced at having dashed her hopes so soon after their introduction, but perhaps it was best, or Eira wouldn’t have given such a definitive answer.
“Shall we adjourn to the library?” Luther asked, looking at Eira. The others had finished their food, but Lady Althea’s plate remained with most of her food untouched.
Althea prodded her food with her fork, but whatever hunger lurked inside her wasn’t for food.
Eira and Rhosyn scooted their chairs back in sync with each other. Luther and his wives rose, leading Althea from the dining room into the hallway.
“Eira says not to react to what’s about to happen. Let it play out and guide everyone to the library.” Rhosyn said, her voice speaking to Luther’s mind. He glanced at the others, checking if they had heard Rhosyn’s voice as well. Only Althea was out of the loop, and she lifted her eyes to catch what she’d missed.
“Oh,” Althea said, surprised, her eyes tracking something ahead of them that Luther couldn’t detect. “Another wife? And a naturalist?”
Luther looked where she was looking, but no one stood there. Certainly not a nude wife. Then he realized who she was seeing, and everything clicked into place. Over the winter, he’d removed the illumination crystals from the hallways so she could move through them unseen.
They existed only in the rooms the servants could not access, and only in those rooms; otherwise, they might spot Criella. Her very existence as a ghost was a secret shared only with Emily and the others of the Le Fey union. So, how was Althea seeing her without a crystal?
Rhosyn’s mouth formed a tight line, and she glared at Eira, who wore a mask of innocence and did not turn to look at her sister.
Helena and Jowangshin came to their conclusions just as Luther did.
Necromancy.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re doing with your hands. Do you not speak?” Lady Althea asked, curious.
The others waited.
“Really? I can hear you,” Althea said. “Can you not hear her, or is it a trick you’ve been playing?”
Luther only smiled.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Althea said, returning her attention to the empty hallway. “Lead on, my lady.”
Luther hesitated, then began walking again. None of the servants had witnessed her half of the conversation. Yet still, Criella showed wisdom in guiding Althea to where she wouldn’t frighten any of Luther’s staff.
They reached the library, which Emily unlocked. Luther pushed the doors open and allowed the others to step inside.
Criella waited for them, standing before an empty table where various tomes and maps had once lain. Emily had packed and loaded those onto the carriage for their departure.
Lady Althea seemed nervous, swallowing. “Dare I ask the nature of your relationship?” She glanced between Luther and Criella. “You loved another Asmodean, Criella, and took your vengeance for her,” she turned toward Criella. “But if the stories they told at the posting house of Miss Burville’s capture were untrue, then is the tale of your love untrue? Is it rude to ask if you’re related to Criella?”
Luther considered another lie. “Forgive me, Lady Althea, where are my manners? This is another member of our union, Cree.” It wasn’t his fault if Lady Althea didn’t put her childhood nickname and her true name together.
“No,” Eira said, interjecting. “Forgive my husband. I swear, he enjoys his jokes and jests too much sometimes, and trickery is always his first thought.”
Helena closed the library doors behind them.
“Lady Althea, this is Criella Le Fey,” Eira said, then signed something to Criella, spelling out Althea’s name. “The reason you can see and speak with her outside of these magical lights, and we cannot, is that your arcanum is even rarer than Luther’s.”
Althea turned toward her, confusion on her face.
“Lady Althea, forgive me, but the stories of Criella’s death at the hands of the Feothe clan were true. As are the tales of Luther’s love for her. Everyone in the Le Fey union loves her. Yet, she is dead and exists in this world as a spirit, unburned because Luther has preserved and hidden her body. You are a necromancer,” Eira said.
Luther turned to catch Althea’s reaction, but ended up catching her instead as she collapsed.