Page 3 of Court of Shadows
Chijioke called after me, but I was drained from our practice and now saddened. I felt the weight of the spoon on a chain around my neck and closed my eyes, taking quick steps to the corridor. There was no thinking of the spoon without thinking of Lee, who had died in my scuffle with his uncle. Well, died, but only briefly, his life renewed by Mrs. Haylam’s magic andMary’s sacrifice. Dead. Renewed. That hardly covered it, the scope of what I had done, what I hadchosen, as a fate for my friend.
No, not a friend; a shadow of a friend now. Though he lived at Coldthistle and could not leave it, I had not seen a glimpse of Rawleigh Brimble in weeks. He skulked and hid like a shadow, and not a single part of me could blame him.
“Louisa! Neglecting your chores again, I see...”
My swift exit was cut short by Mrs. Haylam, tidy and clean as ever, her gray hair knotted at her nape, her apron starched and blindingly white. She tucked her dark hands in front of her waist and looked down her nose at me, sniffing.
“Just on my way to retrieve the linens for the Pritcher Room,” I murmured, avoiding her sharp gaze.
“Of course you are. And you’ll see to the Fenton Room as well after, and bring in the wash. There will be no more lazing about with the Court convening.”
I could sense Chijioke’s eyes went as wide as mine did at that. “The Court?”
Mrs. Haylam was a fearsome woman at the mildest of times, and now her eyes flared as she turned to make room for me to pass and pointed down the hall. “Does it sound like I’m in the mood to be interrogated, girl?”
“Right. Pritcher, Fenton, the wash,” I whispered, trotting by her.
She caught me by the ear and I twisted, crying out in suddenpain. Lord but the old woman was far, far stronger than she looked.
“Not so fast, Louisa. Mr. Morningside wishes to see you. Something urgent, he said, and I wouldn’t tarry if I were you.” She gave a mean little laugh as she let go of my ear.
Eager as I was to be away from her pinching fingers, I did not relish the thought of going downstairs and through the green door to see my employer. Our interactions had been mercifully few since my return from Ireland. In the hall I cowered like a wounded dog, glancing fitfully between Mrs. Haylam and the way to the stairs.
She had already forgotten me, rounding on Chijioke, berating him for wasting time with silly serving maids in the library.
I decided to flee before she caught me staring, and I whirled, retreating down the hall while holding my wounded ear. As I went, I saw what looked like a shadowy foot disappear around the corner, vanishing as whoever had been watching escaped up to a higher floor. The footsteps were already growing softer, but I knew them. Lee. Mary’s sacrifice and my decision had resurrected him, but in exchange, he lived with nothing but darkness fueling his spirit. I hardly understood it, and he was not amenable to discussing the changes he had undergone.
Pausing, I listened to the footsteps as they diminished, pressing the spoon under my dress to my chest. I had doomed him, and I had doomed our growing friendship, too, souring it as I seemed to sour everything in my path.
“Louisa! Downstairs! Now.”
There was no room for argument in Mrs. Haylam’s voice. My many duties awaited, but first, I had the unenviable task of meeting Mr. Morningside once more.
Chapter Two
“Lovely Louisa, there you are.”
He was in a disturbingly good mood. Every short glimpse of Mr. Morningside lately showed him to be irritable and vexed. Shouting matches raged at all hours between him and Mrs. Haylam. Complaints about noisy, lead-footed servants disturbing his work. And wasn’t the foyer awfully drafty? But now, sitting behind his massive desk, his menagerie of birds clustered around him, Mr. Morningside smiled at me. Brightly. Too brightly.
I curtsied and waited for him to invite me to sit, which he did, giving a small, elegant wave of his hand. Reams of parchment that had seen much better days littered his office. Huge, leather-bound books were stacked high on the floor. Quills with broken nibs, their feathers splattered with ink, had been abandoned in every corner. He was hard at work at something, though nothing on the pages looked intelligible to me. Scribbles, I thought, unintelligible little pictures.
He sat back in his chair while I took just the very edge of mine, my hands squeezing each other fretfully in my lap. I had yet to enjoy a wholly pleasant or even mundane interaction with this man... creature...thing. Given his too-friendly smile, this afternoon’s visit would be no different. Mr. Morningside cleared a space in the mess on his desk, haphazardly gatheringup the old parchments and stacking them on the right side of the polished wood.
“Tea? Something stronger? How are you enjoying the spectacle out on the lawn? It’s soon to be far more exciting. The Court convening here... It’s been, let me think—” And here he began tabulating silently on his long fingers. “Oh sod it, who knows? Who cares? It’s been a very long time, and now we are to host the Court.Such a delight.”
“Forgive me for saying so,” I began carefully, “but you don’t look particularly delighted.”
“Do I not?” He showed yet more white, even teeth with his next smile, but it only had the effect of being even more unsettling, forced. Aggressive. “Well, my questionable delight over hosting the Upworld’s finest fops and fools is a topic for another time, Louisa. We have far more pressing matters to discuss.”
He served tea in his ornate cups, each decorated with tiny, fine birds. Without my asking him to, he also removed a round bottle of what looked to be brandy and poured some in with my tea, scooting it quickly across the table. Given the smell wafting off the cup, he had given me rather more brandy than tea.
“It isn’t yet three o’clock,” I pointed out mildly, eyeing the concoction.
Mr. Morningside tipped his head to the side, ceding the point, then took a gulp straight from the brandy bottle and tented his fingers in front of his nose, studying me. My mind raced. He was generally so unflappable. What could be upsetting enoughto call for that much brandy this early in the day? Did it have something to do with Mary? Had she returned from the Dusk Lands after all? Or perhaps he had concerns about Lee, who had become like the house ghost, often heard but rarely seen. Then there was, of course, George Bremerton’s people, the cult of zealots that had sent Bremerton to Coldthistle in the first place with the mad idea of killing the Devil.
I sighed and picked up the tea, waiting. What had my life become that these were the anxieties swirling around in my mind?
“I’ve received a rather curious letter, Louisa. Quite honestly, I do not know what to make of it.” Mr. Morningside ruffled his luxuriant black hair and then reached for one of his desk drawers, withdrawing a folded piece of parchment with a broken green seal. Even at a distance, I could smell the distinct scent of juniper emanating from the paper. “It’s left me speechless.”
