Page 11 of A Door in the Dark
Timmons let out a squeal. “All right. I’ll leave you alone. Practice away. Oh, and perhaps hit the baths before tonight? Just a thought.”
“Do I smell?”
“Like sweat and hatred.”
Ren laughed. “I’ll see you later. And thanks for the help.”
Timmons waved over one shoulder, vanishing back up the stairs. Ren turned to find the fire in her mother’s bracelet was glowing. A sign that the new spell had been stored inside. She slid the metal onto her wrist, resetting her feet.
“Energy distribution spell,” she enunciated. “Alteration attempt one.”
It was Ren’s favorite moment. Idea on the verge of substance.
Knowledge—pushed and prodded—into magic.
7
Theo Brood had promised to throw the party of the century.
It was an enticing invitation from the lips of the university’s most spoiled creature. Enticing for everyone but Ren. She could not have dreaded anything more. She’d never met Theo because she’d intentionally avoided anyone with the last name Brood during her time at Balmerick. His family was known and notorious. Ren had her reasons for despising them, but Timmons would not hear any protests as they wound through the pristine streets of the Heights.
“It’s just a party, Ren.”
“You didn’t say it was Theo Brood’s party.”
“How could you not know that?” Timmons replied. “It’s all anyone has talked about for weeks. That’s just another sign that you’re in the right place. If no one mentioned this party to you, then you are sorely lacking on the very connections we intend to make tonight.”
Ren felt a cold sweat forming at her temples as she followed Timmons up a lovely stone staircase that led to the front entrance. Her friend was drawn by the music and the noise, a creature returning to its most comfortable habitat. Ren preferred the upper stacks of the library.
“What’s your issue with the Broods, anyway?”
“I don’t have an issue with them.”
“Oh, really? Then why does your entire face curdle every time I say the name Brood?”
Ren scowled at her.
“See? That right there. That face. What’s so wrong with them?”
Everything, Ren thought. If only you knew all the many things that are wrong with them. She altered her answer into something more rational. The kind of answer Timmons might expect from her.
“Their business practices have been predatory for centuries. They took more prisoners in the Expedition Wars than the other four houses combined. Their family tree is basically a who’s who of the worst tyrants in Kathorian history. And it’s not like all their worst offenses are ancient history. Landwin Brood forged contracts to seize land from Lower Quarter tenants literally a decade ago. And then he balked on his promise to hire all of those people to work in the resulting canal’s shipping yards. I just… I don’t like the Broods. I never will.”
Timmons nodded. “Gods, Ren. If morality is the centerpiece of your search for a house, I’m not sure you’ll find one worth joining. Every one of the founding families has a few skeletons. Why do you think they’re the most powerful people in the most powerful city in the world? Hint: it isn’t because they’re all super generous or something.”
Ren knew that was true. All the founding families were corrupt; she just had very personal reasons to dislike the Broods. Reasons she’d never spoken out loud to anyone else. Ren kept quiet as they reached an overcrowded entryway. Everyone had a drink in hand. They were skirting the first crowd of bodies, moving deeper into the villa, when Clyde Winters snagged Timmons by the arm.
“Hey! I’ve got something for you! It’ll take just a second.”
Her friend shot an apologetic look over one shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she said. Ren started to respond, then watched in disbelief as Timmons vanished down the nearest hallway with Clyde. Freshly abandoned, Ren sought the only other comfort in sight—an open bar staffed with attendants. It was a bit over the top, but at least she’d have something to sip.
Ren avoided the larger crowds and was drawn almost immediately into a more dimly lit study. It was far quieter there. Ren took a seat in the most remote corner she could find and began counting the Brood family’s sins. She’d never thought it a sin to be rich, but Ren knew how their family earned their money. They sacrificed men like her father to improve their financial bottom line. All without consequence. Everything she knew—all the research she’d done—threw a harsh light over the wealthy flourishes of their home.
Every bookshelf was lined with first editions. She flipped a few open just to check. She sensed cleaning enchantments layered over every piece of furniture. A comfort charm had been cast over the scattered cushions. Through the door to the study she saw an ice sculpture of Balmerick. Its slanting roofs had been converted into frozen pathways for various beverages. Spirited chants rose and fell from that corner as the various heirs of Kathor entertained one another. Ren took a sip of her drink, but even that was annoying.
The servant had placed three cubes in her glass. Now she watched as they transformed, twisting to take on the appearance of miniature ballerinas. She held her glass up to the light of the nearest lamp. Her drink was fizzing but was clear enough for her to see the enchantment begin anew. The three miniatures tiptoed in circles across the bottom of the glass, twirling here and there. Ren admired their timed leaps. It was annoying only because she knew an enchantment like this would cost half of her monthly allotment of magic to perform.
She was nursing her drink when she accidentally caught the eye of someone in the nearest group. A red-faced Mat Tully grinned over at her, blinked once, and broke away from the others.
