Page 6 of Court of Shadows
“Should Mary have paid?” he growled.
My eyes snapped shut. That hit the mark. “No. I’m trying to mend that, too. Apparently I can only break things, not put them back together.”
At that, he snorted. “How very sad for you.”
The wind tugged at his hair and he settled it, irritated. Far down below us, the workmen on the lawn called to one another, then laughed about some jest we could not hear.
“I will not stop looking for Mary,” I told him resolutely. “There’s a special spring... I know it’s the key, and I’ll find a way to get her back. And... And I will never stop trying to make amends for what I did to you. You have no idea how sorry I am, Lee.”
After that, we were both silent for a long, shivering moment. His shoulders drooped and then he looked to the side, one eye finding me, studying me. “So why are you dawdling here with me if you’re so eager to be alone?”
I thought I heard a sliver of his old, jolly demeanor seeping through. His tone was not as harsh, but he also did not appear ready to accept my apology. He might never.
“Believe it or not, I received the most astounding letter. From my father.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought your father—”
“A different one. My real father, supposedly. I honestly have no idea what to think.”
“What does it say in the letter, then?” He turned away again, grumbling. “Not that it matters one jot to me.”
I felt a wry smile tugging at my mouth, but I held it at bay. Perhaps one day he would speak to me like a friend again. The only thing I could do was keep trying. “Well, that’s the othertricky bit.” Taking one tiny step toward him on the ledge, I pulled the folded letter from my apron pocket. “It’s all in Gaelic, and I can’t read a word of it.”
“Your dear friend Mr. Morningside wouldn’t help you?” he sneered.
The urge to say something smart was difficult to fight. He deserved my kindness and patience, and so I took a deep breath, unfolding the letter and looking at the unfamiliar words. “He isn’t my friend, and no, he wouldn’t help me. He just said something unbelievably condescending and sent me on my way.” I pursed my lips and sighed. “As usual.”
Lee vented a husky laugh, glancing over his shoulder at me. He looked ready to say something, but his eyes caught on my necklace. I looked down; the key had reverted to its former appearance. The spoon he had given me as a gift. The letter shook in my hand, and I could see Lee’s eyes turn blacker and blacker, as if pure ink spread across the whites and turquoise, revealing the living shadow within.
His eyes were black for only a moment, then he seemed to struggle with what to say, fidgeting, whipping his head around and away from me. At his sides, his fists clenched.
“You still have the spoon,” he said, hoarse.
“Of course I do.” I put the letter away, realizing that I would find no solitude there on the roof, and no help.
Lee nodded and looked out over the hills rolling up to the boundaries of Coldthistle House. The wind pulled at his hairagain, but this time he let it. “Louisa... you should go now. Please, go now.”
And I would have, I really would have, but as I turned to go I saw a shape in the distance, hurtling out of the sky. As soon as it appeared, a cold, deep dread iced through my bones. I felt frozen in place, petrified, a part of me I could not name buthearwhispering words of warning. It was like Mr. Morningside’s green door, an ancient calling, though this one did not say come closer, but hide.
It was like a star falling in an arc from the heavens, brilliantly gold. The object came closer and closer, and both of us watched in stunned silence as it shimmered overhead, a wail going with it, before the flash of gold careened out of the heavens and landed with a thud in the fields to the east.
I did not heed the warning in my bones. Without another word, we both fled back into the attic, running toward the little door and whatever poor fool had just fallen from the sky.
Chapter Five
Breathless, we tumbled out into the sunshine to find the laborers in an uproar. They had heard the thunder as whatever or whoever had fallen into the east fields landed. It had not been a smooth arrival, as a great cloud of dust and grass and feathers hung in the air, visible even from the kitchen door.
“Move!” It was Chijioke. He exploded out of the house, pushing past us, rushing toward the tent on the lawn and the confused workmen. Lee and I hurried toward the fields as Chijioke intercepted the men, herding them back toward the tent, calling, “Back to work! All of you! Nobody is paying you to make a fuss!”
I heard them complaining in return, but ran on anyway. It was difficult to keep pace with Lee, whose long legs sent him bounding ahead. I muttered and cursed my long skirts, holding them up and pelting for the rickety fence guarding the borders of Coldthistle property.
“Lee! Wait!” But I called to him too late. He reached the fence and stopped short, falling hard to the ground as if he had run headlong into a wall. Whatever shadow magic Mrs. Haylam had used to resurrect him tied him to the house, and he could no more pass beyond the limits of the house than a horse could fit into a mouse hole.
Gasping for air, I paused next to him, leaning down and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. His shoes and trousers were scuffed by the dirt, and he pushed blindly at my fingers.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“No,” he muttered. “Leave me be.”
