Page 11 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘William Roydon,’ he announced in a thick Devrick accent. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen, and if he was put off by the imposing nature of my Kysillian height, he didn’t show it. ‘I’ve come from Blackthorn House to fetch you.’
‘Mr Roydon.’ I bowed, trying not to seem too flustered by how strangely this day was unfolding. Startled as to how he had recognised me. Then again, Kysillian’s weren’t a familiar sight in the south.
‘William,’ he corrected, looking past me in confusion. ‘I thought you had a maid?’
I turned, expecting to see Alma standing safely behind me. But in her place, sitting on the dirty platform, peeking out from the pile of Alma’s dress and underthings, was a small tabby cat.
‘Alma.’ I reached for her, just as another swarming crowd surged forward, kicking one of her shoes across the platform and trampling all over her dress. My hand was almost crushed as I yanked it from beneath the passengers’ filthy boots. Alma let out a hiss of annoyance as her small body leapt onto the safety of my shoulders.
Frustrated tears burned in my eyes as I stuffed her dress into my bag. Feeling her small paws kneed my shoulder.
I should have noticed, should have known she was close to changing. I mentally cursed myself turning for her shoes and underthings, only to find William kneeling next to me on the grimy platform, stopping the crowd trampling over us. The rest of her things were neatly folded, along with her shoes, piled in his hands.
‘Thank you.’ I smiled with a relieved breath, pushing them into the bag as I got back to my feet. William picking up the rest of the luggage effortlessly, like he dealt with stray clothes and vanishing maids all the time.
‘This is Alma Darcy. She’s working on her transformations,’ I explained, as I clutched my art folder to my front, waiting for his harsh comment or disbelieving glance as his warm eyes fell to the cat on my shoulder. Alma meowed in greeting from her perch, her tail brushing my other cheek, clearly more sociable in her feline form than her human one.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Alma.’ William bowed again with that same welcoming smile as he put his cap back on. ‘I have the carriage waiting for us.’
His polite businesslike manner returned as he struggled with the bags through the packed crowd, leading the way. I gathered up my skirts and tucked my art folder more securely under my arm and followed, knowing there was no turning back, and that might have been the most terrifying thing of all.
Chapter Four
Alma let out a disconcerted meow from where she sat curled up in my lap. It was late, but darkness hadn’t completely enveloped our surroundings. A fine grey mist fell upon us the minute we left the city outskirts and travelled quickly through the workers’ towns that surrounded it. We only stopped once at a small travelling post for a pot of tea and hard travellers’ cake before we went west across vast moorland, heading for a border of dark forest in the distance that soon enveloped us.
The road was craggy and forgotten between the towering ancient trees. The everlasting lamp at the front of the open carriage guided the horse easily across the uneven terrain.
I couldn’t speak feline, but I shared Alma’s meowed concerns as we finally came upon a gravel path almost oVerrun with weeds.
Before us was what once may have been a cottage but was now nothing more than a hulk of crumbling stone. Plaster peeled from walls to show uneven bricks beneath, the thatched roof sitting drunkenly and the window supports sagging with rot. If it wasn’t for the small flickering of light behind the filthy glass of the windows, I would have given up hope completely.
The suspicion I’d been duped was almost overwhelming as I waited for the Council mages to come running out of thesurrounding dark wood laughing as William brought the carriage to a stop and jumped down, humming cheerily to himself.
From what rushed research I’d been able to do before leaving the Institute, Blackthorn resided in a grand manor house in the western fields, surrounded by an ancient wood. The family had owned an excess of land before the wars, land that had mostly survived, but the rundown cottage building before me didn’t speak of wealth or the power of a family that possessed such old, magical blood.
Alma let out a growl of unease at my silence. I shook my head and petted her in reassurance.
‘Miss Woodrow?’ William called, holding his hand out as he waited on the path.
Could such a kind and curious creature be involved in such a horrid ploy? Then again, I’d seen everything beings were capable of, so nothing should surprise me.
I took his offered hand. Whatever trap I was in the centre of was bound to reveal itself shortly. There would be no benefit in delaying it for my pride.
‘Transfiguration is fascinating. McDale’s research into it is my favourite,’ he continued effortlessly with our earlier conversation regarding Alma, oblivious to my suspicion. ‘Lord Blackthorn has the original texts on the theory. I’m sure Miss Darcy will find them useful when she returns.’
‘You’re studying?’ I asked as I pushed my art folder neatly beneath my arm. I’d never seen him at the Institute, and I knew I’d recognise another fey, especially in a place like that. Although our conversation on the journey about earth magic, root curses and perilous forsaken weeds should have told me as much.
‘When Lord Blackthorn has time. I’ve passed the majority of my summoning tests. It’s the research element that lets medown.’ He retrieved our bags quickly and turned sharply on his heel in the direction of the decrepit cottage. I rushed to follow, Alma growling cautiously from where she remained on my shoulder.
Blackthorn was teaching William, a fey who hadn’t attended the Institute. The thought stunned me.
‘Come along. I’m sorry about the house, it’s how it’s chosen to look today,’ he called over his shoulder as he made his way down the path at an alarming pace. ‘It’s wary of visitors.’
He juggled our bags awkwardly as he reached the door and produced a key from his pocket. Surely an irrelevant item considering the door was so warped, and oddly hung. I doubted it offered much in the way of defence.
Nevertheless, he unlocked it and stepped inside, giving me no choice but to follow. Alma leapt down from my shoulder to go first, and I tried not to trip over her as we were greeted with the pungent scent of herbs and the tartness of old spells.
I ducked inside with caution, expecting to bump my head on a low-hanging beam, but instead, I straightened easily.
