“Your mother worked for them, before you were born,” she said. “She was what we call apraecurus.It’s a job category… a quite well-respected one, or was until recently. The Praecuri are tasked with oversight in Overworld. They keep order, ensure it remains free of Magicals, and, of course, try to influence Overworlders in positive directions.” She scoffed, communicating what she thought ofthatendeavor. “I suppose you might liken them to your Overworld police. Or possibly a covert branch of your military.”
I turned this over.
“Are you a…” I struggled with the word. “…Praecurus? Like mum?”
“No.” Ankha stared at me coldly. Shrugging, she set down her teacup. “I have done research for them on occasion,” she conceded. “And other small jobs.”
“But Mum wasn’t in research,” I clarified.
Ankha quirked an eyebrow. “No, she was not. Clotide was a decorated agent, the most senior in her department. She trained for years to be able to operate seamlessly in Overworld, and to address the most serious crimes there. She served with distinction throughout her career.” She sniffed. “Until she met your father.”
Disapproval dripped from her words.
“Your father was a police detective for Scotland Yard,” Anhka added. “Homicide. Intimate relations between the Praecuri and Overworlders are strictly forbidden. At that time, it was punishable by death.”
My fingers gripped my fork and knife so tightly, my knuckles went white.
“Since then,” Ankha went on. “There’s been what you might call a change of heart, at least in terms of the harshness of that sentence. Your mother’s death?”
“Murder,” I muttered.
There was a silence, then Ankha shrugged, as if the difference was academic.
“It outraged many in our world,” she said. “There was a big enough outcry that the laws got changed?”
I scoffed. I couldn’t help it.
“?We’re an old and well-known family.” Ankha aimed a scathing stare at me. “And your mother was well-liked. Before her death, the law on Overworld fraternization hadn’t changed in thousands of years. Evenbeforeshe returned to the United Kingdom, many called for restraint in her case. They wanted her arrested and tried… not executed. The Federation Europa of the Ancient Race agreed?”
“The what?” I asked.
My aunt dismissed this with a wave. “The point is, everyone assumed shewouldbe arrested. That she would be imprisoned, not killed.”
“So why didn’t that happen?” I asked.
Ankha’s lips pursed. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I fought to keep my voice level. “You said ‘no one wanted her executed,’ but obviouslysomeonedid. It’s been over nine years. Hasn’t there been any kind of investigation?”
“Obviously.”
“They have no leads? No suspects?” I scowled when my aunt continued to give me that flat stare.“Someonegave the order. And someone did the killing. Others besides the Praecuri must have seen it. I remember?”
“You’re getting off the point entirely,” Ankha cut in, impatient. “I’m telling you that your mother’s death washighlyunpopular. The outcry was loud. So loud, the Federation Europa changed the entire way such incidents could be handled in future.”
I bit my lip. I fought with whether to press the point, and decided on a partial retreat. “Changed in what way?”
“Like I said, the crime of interbreeding is no longer punishable by death.” Ankha sniffed. “Then there’s the matter of you and your brother… the children. Before Clotide, any offspring from a union like your parents’ would have been monitored until they came of age, and exterminated if they showed any Magical ability. If those offspring were entirelynon-Magical, they would be allowed to remain in Overworld to live a regular, human life. But Magicals, even half-blooded Magicals, were not permitted to exist in Overworld. Suppression rarely works on adult Magicals for long. Eventually they would show?”
“So why not just bring them back here?” I asked, frowning.
Ankha let out a low, humorless snort.
“The idea of bringing a halfbreed here, to Magique, would have been absolutely abhorrent until recently.Veryrecently,” she emphasized. “The mere suggestion would have been preposterous even twenty years ago.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Why do you think?” Ankha shot back, scoffing.“Youlived in Overworld. You know what they’re like. Does it really surprise you? No one wants wars and famines and misery here. Our world may not be perfect, but it’s not the cesspit of death, slow extinction, and filth that seems to be the goal of Overworld.”
