Wrexham’s fingers worked at the knotted muscles in my shoulder even as he frowned at Miss Banks. “Surely, though, when it comes to her own niece—”
“She wouldn’t even vote for Mrs. Harwood to join the Boudiccate, though they were such close friends at the time. She cast the deciding vote in that decision. And she even likes Mrs. Harwood’s husband! But she says a marriage based on Boudicca’s, matching politics to magic, is the price every member of the Boudiccate must pay for the sake of the nation as a whole. And now, just when I’ve finally found a way to gain magical credentials for myself...”
She gestured despairingly at the heavy green velvet curtains that covered the windows on the far side of the room. “Look at what we discovered!”
I twisted in my chair to follow her gaze, frowning. The lovely, braided silver sashes that I’d chosen so carefully hung limply at each side of the curtained windows, not hooked into place as my servants would have left them.
“Clever of Miss Fennell,” Wrexham murmured. “She must have closed the curtains as soon as she heard Mrs. Renwick’s approach.”
“Actually...” Miss Banks gave a small cough. “Those curtains were closed when we arrived. It wasn’t until we went to hide behind them ourselves that we discovered—well...” She gestured, sighing helplessly. “You’ll have to see it for yourself.”
Exchanging a wary look with my husband, I rose from my chair.
Together, we approached the windows. I could sense Wrexham readying his spells in preparation. A year ago, I would have been doing the same, just as I’d done a hundred times before...but I set my jaw and pushed that useless, too-familiar frustration aside.
“One...two...three!”
We jerked the curtains together, one on each side. They swooshed open between us in a rush...
And I sucked in a sharp breath as a makeshift altar was revealed upon the windowsill of my own school library.
An acorn, a foxglove, a heart-shaped leaf, a sparkling silver ring, and worst of all, three unmistakable drops of red human blood, none of them yet dry...oh, and there: a sprawling green spot smudged beside them.
The most dangerous sort of fey contract had been signed—and whatever the details of that agreement might be, it could only spell disaster for all of us.
6
The first several pulls of the housekeeping bell garnered no response, but the privacy of Miss Birch’s room was inviolable. I forced myself to wait, pacing back and forth across the thick green carpet, until she finally appeared at the door wearing a faded dressing gown and a scowl.
“Well? My working hours are—ahh!” Her thin face tightened and her eyes flared, like a falcon who’d just caught sight of prey. Without another word or glance at any of us, she stalked to the windowsill where the illicit altar lay, untouched and waiting for her professional inspection.
Wrexham had been sitting in the bronze wingchair, poring through a thick book on fey lore, but he used one finger to mark his place and turned his watchful attention to my housekeeper as she glowered down at the offerings laid there.
She was a higher authority on the fey than any book stored in a library, for her combined heritage was an open secret in the neighborhood, one never discussed with outsiders. It was why she could command an eye-watering salary from anyone clever enough to value safety and comfort over the outmoded old prejudices that had ruled Anglish society for so long.
“Inmy house!” she snapped. “Of all the outrageous—!”
“So, you didn’t feel it happen?” I asked.
It was a tactless question; I realized that too late as she swung toward me, her hazel eyes taking on an inhuman glitter. “D’you think I would have allowed a sneaking stranger in here onpurpose, Miss Harwood?”
“No! No,” I said hastily, “of course you wouldn’t. I only wondered...” I cast desperately for an excuse. If only Amy were here!
My gaze landed on my husband, who rose to the occasion. “Now we know, then,” Wrexham said calmly to Miss Birch, “that at least one of our bargainers must have used magic to hide this transaction from you.”
“Not human magic,” said Miss Birch. “I’d tastethatin the air if they’d used it. But whoever they summoned with this nasty bit of work...” She gestured toward the altar, thin lips twisting as if she’d bitten into something sour. “Theyhave power enough, oh, yes, they do.”
“Can you taste their magic?” I stepped closer, tensing. “Enough to identify what they are?”
“Ha.” She hunched a dismissive shoulder. “You think a creature that powerful can’t hide their true nature? AllItaste in here...” She sniffed the air, then rolled her eyes at my oldest student. “Apart from the obvious fol-de-rol, that is...”
Miss Banks flushed and lifted one hand to her buttons, as if checking they were once again safely closed.
“There’s only one other taste still lingering,” said Miss Birch. “Malice. Whoever was summoned, they came for the joy of wreaking havoc, and that’s exactly what they were summoned to do.Someoneisn’t a friend of this school of yours, Miss Harwood.”
“‘Someone?’” Groaning, I threw myself down onto a stool by the fireplace and dug my fingers hard through my unbound hair. “Tryeveryone, Miss Birch. Apart from my students and staff...”
“Can you even be sure of them?” Wrexham asked quietly. “If one of your students or your servants was planted here as a spy—or believes they’re doing some good for the nation by sabotaging this venture before it can upset the status quo...”
