Illusions of Fate
Page 52
“I’m . . . I’m so sorry. I was . . .” I cannot tell them, cannot get the words out. I know my hand is fine, I know it, but the pain! I close my eyes, unable to get rid of the smell of tea lodged in my sinuses.
“It’s perfectly understandable,” Finn says, rising from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. “You’ve been through so much.” He doesn’t sound tired like Eleanor. He sounds weighted down, sad.
“I am beginning to regret agreeing to stay here with the two of you.” Eleanor walks into the room and sits in a chair beside my bed with a heavy sigh. “I thought I’d be watching your rooms closely at night for far more lurid and interesting goings-on than screaming night terrors.”
“I don’t know what’s come over me.” I shift, embarrassed, kicking my feet free from where they’re tangled in the sheets. Finn has taken us both in, now that we know Eleanor isn’t safe and we no longer have possession of Lord Downpike’s book.
Oh, Sir Bird, I am sorry.
I thought—heavy with grief for Sir Bird—that I would sleep heavily. Instead, my mind is plagued with horrors.
“Give it some time.” Finn pats my hand. “Everyone has nightmares.”
“They’ve never bothered me like this. They feel so real, so out of my control.”
Eleanor frowns thoughtfully, then runs out of the room and comes back in, carrying her snuffbox.
“Isn’t it an odd time for that?” Finn asks.
“Oh, hush. You aren’t the only one here with magic, and if there is one thing I am good at . . .” She pulls out a pinch, and I barely have time to close my eyes before she blows it right in my face.
She cackles. “If there is one thing I am good at, dear friends, it is detecting the presence of magic. I can always find it.”
I open my eyes. Particles of dust glow, swirling in a slow pattern around my head. Eleanor takes me by my shoulder and pulls my head forward. “They’re originating from back here.” She touches a spot on the back of my skull. “Anything happen there?”
“No, I—yes! My ribbon, and some hairs. Lord Downpike has them. I’d forgotten all about it.”
Finn stands, eyes blazing with fury in the dim light. “How dare he.” He storms from the bedroom. Eleanor climbs into bed next to me, scooting me to the side and putting her cold feet on mine. It’s a great comfort to have her next to me, sealing me off from the remnants of the dream and anchoring me here.
Finn comes back and I finally notice he’s wearing a thin, white nightshirt with breeches hastily pulled on underneath. I can see his collarbones.
What is it with me and that boy’s collarbones? I blush and then smile to myself. At least this is a better thing to dwell on than the fact that Lord Downpike apparently has unlimited access to my dreams.
Finn clears the nightstand next to the bed, setting down one of his heavy, handwritten books already open to a page. He has several other things—a burning candle, a pair of delicate scissors, and some powdered substance.
I examine the book, trying to decipher both the method and end result of the spell. Near as I can tell, he needs a clipping of my hair—the conduit, already being used by Lord Downpike—powdered poppy seeds, the gateway to sleep, and wax to be used to seal off Lord Downpike’s pathway.
I tap my finger thoughtfully as Finn asks permission with a look, and I nod for him to cut a small strand of my hair. He takes it back to the dresser.
“I think we could change it,” I say.
“Beg pardon?” Finn looks up from where he’s copying down the necessary symbols.
“Isn’t there a spell to turn something back onto the attacker? Using a mirror? Couldn’t we substitute a mirror for the wax, so instead of sealing my dreams from him, we turn it around and allow me to be in control when he tries to enter?”
Finn frowns. “Why would we do that?”
“Is it possible?”
“I suppose it would be, in theory. But why risk it when I’m certain we can block him?”
“He has more of my hair. Strands he took from the comb. What’s to stop him from repeating the spell?”
“If he does, we block it. Again. As many times as we need to.”
“That’s not enough. I already have to hide from him during my waking hours. I don’t want to go to sleep at night worrying that he’ll find his way in again.”
“But what good will it do you to be able to control things, if he can still enter your sleeping mind?”
I smile grimly. “I intend to make it a place he’ll want to stay very far away from.”
Eleanor giggles beside me. “You are mad.”
Finn’s frown deepens. “I don’t think we should risk it. Theoretically, it would work, but I’m far more comfortable using a spell I know.”
I stand, leaving the warm comfort of my sheets, and go to my bathroom to retrieve a small, gilt mirror. I set it down next to Finn’s materials and look him full in the eyes. “I agreed to stay here because it was safest for everyone. But you must let me respond to threats in the way I see best.”
There’s a moment, a hardening behind his eyes, where I think he will disagree with me, force me to go with his plan. And he could. I’m in his home, under his protection. Lord Downpike’s words whisper mockingly: Is he taking good care of you?
And then, to my surprise, Finn nods. “But I insist on staying the night with you so that if anything goes wrong, I can wake you immediately.”
“It’s perfectly understandable,” Finn says, rising from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. “You’ve been through so much.” He doesn’t sound tired like Eleanor. He sounds weighted down, sad.
“I am beginning to regret agreeing to stay here with the two of you.” Eleanor walks into the room and sits in a chair beside my bed with a heavy sigh. “I thought I’d be watching your rooms closely at night for far more lurid and interesting goings-on than screaming night terrors.”
“I don’t know what’s come over me.” I shift, embarrassed, kicking my feet free from where they’re tangled in the sheets. Finn has taken us both in, now that we know Eleanor isn’t safe and we no longer have possession of Lord Downpike’s book.
Oh, Sir Bird, I am sorry.
I thought—heavy with grief for Sir Bird—that I would sleep heavily. Instead, my mind is plagued with horrors.
“Give it some time.” Finn pats my hand. “Everyone has nightmares.”
“They’ve never bothered me like this. They feel so real, so out of my control.”
Eleanor frowns thoughtfully, then runs out of the room and comes back in, carrying her snuffbox.
“Isn’t it an odd time for that?” Finn asks.
“Oh, hush. You aren’t the only one here with magic, and if there is one thing I am good at . . .” She pulls out a pinch, and I barely have time to close my eyes before she blows it right in my face.
She cackles. “If there is one thing I am good at, dear friends, it is detecting the presence of magic. I can always find it.”
I open my eyes. Particles of dust glow, swirling in a slow pattern around my head. Eleanor takes me by my shoulder and pulls my head forward. “They’re originating from back here.” She touches a spot on the back of my skull. “Anything happen there?”
“No, I—yes! My ribbon, and some hairs. Lord Downpike has them. I’d forgotten all about it.”
Finn stands, eyes blazing with fury in the dim light. “How dare he.” He storms from the bedroom. Eleanor climbs into bed next to me, scooting me to the side and putting her cold feet on mine. It’s a great comfort to have her next to me, sealing me off from the remnants of the dream and anchoring me here.
Finn comes back and I finally notice he’s wearing a thin, white nightshirt with breeches hastily pulled on underneath. I can see his collarbones.
What is it with me and that boy’s collarbones? I blush and then smile to myself. At least this is a better thing to dwell on than the fact that Lord Downpike apparently has unlimited access to my dreams.
Finn clears the nightstand next to the bed, setting down one of his heavy, handwritten books already open to a page. He has several other things—a burning candle, a pair of delicate scissors, and some powdered substance.
I examine the book, trying to decipher both the method and end result of the spell. Near as I can tell, he needs a clipping of my hair—the conduit, already being used by Lord Downpike—powdered poppy seeds, the gateway to sleep, and wax to be used to seal off Lord Downpike’s pathway.
I tap my finger thoughtfully as Finn asks permission with a look, and I nod for him to cut a small strand of my hair. He takes it back to the dresser.
“I think we could change it,” I say.
“Beg pardon?” Finn looks up from where he’s copying down the necessary symbols.
“Isn’t there a spell to turn something back onto the attacker? Using a mirror? Couldn’t we substitute a mirror for the wax, so instead of sealing my dreams from him, we turn it around and allow me to be in control when he tries to enter?”
Finn frowns. “Why would we do that?”
“Is it possible?”
“I suppose it would be, in theory. But why risk it when I’m certain we can block him?”
“He has more of my hair. Strands he took from the comb. What’s to stop him from repeating the spell?”
“If he does, we block it. Again. As many times as we need to.”
“That’s not enough. I already have to hide from him during my waking hours. I don’t want to go to sleep at night worrying that he’ll find his way in again.”
“But what good will it do you to be able to control things, if he can still enter your sleeping mind?”
I smile grimly. “I intend to make it a place he’ll want to stay very far away from.”
Eleanor giggles beside me. “You are mad.”
Finn’s frown deepens. “I don’t think we should risk it. Theoretically, it would work, but I’m far more comfortable using a spell I know.”
I stand, leaving the warm comfort of my sheets, and go to my bathroom to retrieve a small, gilt mirror. I set it down next to Finn’s materials and look him full in the eyes. “I agreed to stay here because it was safest for everyone. But you must let me respond to threats in the way I see best.”
There’s a moment, a hardening behind his eyes, where I think he will disagree with me, force me to go with his plan. And he could. I’m in his home, under his protection. Lord Downpike’s words whisper mockingly: Is he taking good care of you?
And then, to my surprise, Finn nods. “But I insist on staying the night with you so that if anything goes wrong, I can wake you immediately.”
