Mirror Sight (22 page)

O
n their return journey to the house, Cade rarely spoke, but treated Karigan with deference. She caught him stealing surreptitious glances at her as they walked through the underground. His awe made her uncomfortable enough to wish he’d go back to his former dismissive self. What would he have thought of her performance if she’d been in top form?

Before they entered the library, he lightly touched her arm as if to reassure himself she was real. “You will teach me more?” he whispered.

“Yes. Of course.”

He nodded gravely, and then they emerged into the library, as the shelves that concealed the secret passage closed behind them. They made their way to the foyer, and Cade quietly let himself out through the front door. She wondered where he lived that he could sneak around at odd hours. Then she shrugged and returned to her bedroom. The first thing she noticed when she got there was that the window was open, the curtains billowing in a cool breeze that curled into the room.

“What . . . ?”

She hurried over to the window wondering who had opened it and how it had been done without rousing Mirriam. She inspected the window finding nothing amiss, but when she touched the inner edges of the frame, her fingers came away greasy. Someone had oiled the window so it wouldn’t screech when opened. It was not entirely the cool air that gave her a chill.

The second thing she noticed in the pre-dawn dusk filtering into her room was a cat sitting on her bed, watching her. It was the stray that had come to her window before.

“Hello,” Karigan said, glancing around her room to make sure there were no other surprises awaiting her. “Did you open the window?”

The cat just yawned and flopped, rolling from side to side, rubbing his whole body into the comforter. Lorine had referred to the stray as a “he,” and Karigan saw she’d gotten his gender correct. Karigan sat beside him and stroked his cheek. Before she knew it, he was bumping against her and purring so loudly she was sure it would cause Mirriam to come storming into her room.

“You’re a nice kitty, very friendly,” Karigan murmured. He certainly wasn’t skittish as many strays were. “Maybe you’re not a stray at all, but just like to visit other houses.”

She lay down on the bed, spreading her shawl over her like a throw, and the cat walked up her legs, sat on her belly, and started kneading her chest. “Ow!” she said as claws pricked her skin.

A short time later he curled up on her stomach, his purrs vibrating through her body as she petted him.

“Nice kitty,” she murmured, fading into sleep. “I think I’ll call you Cloudy.” His white and light gray fur made the name apt, and without worrying about who had opened the window, and content with a soft purring cat to soothe her, she fell into a deep slumber.

 • • • 

Pat-pat. Pat-pat.

Karigan groaned. Despite her efforts to keep in condition, sword practice with Cade had left her whole body aching, and there was an uncomfortable weight on her chest.

Pat-pat.

She fluttered her eyes open to find the cat staring into her face, his paw raised to tap her cheek again.

“Oh, Cloudy,” she murmured, remembering. She stroked his head, but he turned away and walked down her body, tail twitching. He crouched at the foot of the bed and stared off into the darkness of the far corner. His tail thumped on the comforter.

Gray morning cast irregular shadows in the room and the curtains rustled listlessly. Karigan rose up on her elbows to see what the cat watched. At first she saw nothing, then she detected movement. Disregarding her aches and pains, she sat all the way up and stared. A filmy figure was seated in her chair facing away from her, seeming to write or draw on something on its lap. Faintly she could hear the scritching of its—
his
—pen.

She swung her legs off the bed and stood. She took halting steps forward and paused just behind chair and ghost. He was still filmy, translucent, but better defined this time. His garb appeared familiar, looked like . . . looked like the uniform of a Green Rider.
Who?
she wondered. Someone she’d known? She could not see his face from behind, so she slowly started to circle around him fearing that any sudden move would cause him to vanish. She glanced at his drawing.

It was a drawing of himself, from the same perspective she’d had of seeing him from behind. As he drew, his ghostly shape grew more solid, more defined, as if the act of drawing himself helped him materialize more fully. Faint green began to tint his uniform.

As Karigan circled him, his profile grew more familiar. She knelt before him, now able to look into his face that was so intent on the drawing, and she knew.

“Yates!”
It came out as a throttled cry.

He paused his sketching, and without looking at her, raised his forefinger to his lips. And vanished.

A faint green afterglow wavered where he had sat, and then dissipated. Karigan knelt there hugging herself, fresh tears washing down her face, grief that she’d been unable to express before. She grieved for Yates, she grieved for all those who she’d known and were now dead. From the perspective of this time, all of them were gone.

The cat came to her with a questioning
Prrrt?
and then rubbed against her leg. It quieted her enough to hear the strains of a distressed whinny come through her open window.

“Oh, no!” She swiped tears from her face with her sleeve, feeling Raven’s urgency, his need, ringing through her. She ran from her room with neither her shawl nor slippers. She pelted down the corridor, one door opening in her wake. Mirriam called after her. Karigan ignored her and charged down the stairs, and then to the back of the house past bleary-eyed servants just beginning their day.

She threw open the back door and raced across the yard toward the stables, her healing leg hindering her not at all. Raven’s sharp whinnies called to her, and when she entered the stables, she found him rearing in the center aisle, only one cross-tie secured to his halter, and she had no doubt he’d rip it out of the wall, bolt and all, at any moment. Standing before him, with a carriage whip in her hand, was Arhys, a small figure in contrast to the huge stallion. Trapped beyond Raven, just out of range of deadly hooves, stood Luke and his stable boys still in night dress, unable to get around the horse to stop Arhys.

What did the girl think she was doing? Did she have no sense of the danger she placed herself in?

Arhys laid the whip back, preparing to lash Raven. “Stupid horse!” she cried.

Raven reared again, bellowing, hooves thrashing. He would kill Arhys.

“No!” Karigan cried, and she lunged forward and grabbed Arhys. The danger of the moment gave her the surge of strength she needed to heave the girl out of the way. Karigan, however, lost her footing and fell prone beneath descending hooves. She scrunched her eyes closed and gritted her teeth against the pummeling that could crush her.

And felt a whiffling against her ear instead. She rolled to her side and saw that by some miracle, or quick reflex and wit of Raven’s, that his front legs had not crushed her, but straddled her body instead. He nickered at her questioningly. She reached with a shaking hand to pat his nose.

“Bad
horse!” a little girl’s voice cried.

Raven jerked his head up and snorted. Luke shouted. A quick glance revealed Arhys back up on her feet coming toward them with whip ready. Karigan hauled herself out from between Raven’s legs and intercepted the girl. She snatched the whip out of her hands and tossed it aside, then grabbed Arhys’ wrist.

“Lemme go!” the girl cried.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Go near that horse again. Do you hear me?” Anger made Karigan’s voice harsh.

“Lemme go!” Arhys started kicking her and screaming.

Karigan dragged her out of the stable, the girl wild in her hand, and a specially well-aimed kick brought Karigan to one knee. Arhys seized the opportunity to pull her hair and scratch at her face. It was almost as bad as fighting one of the tainted Sleepers in Blackveil.

“What’s going on here? Release the girl!”

Karigan looked up to see the professor, Mirriam, and half the household staff running across the yard.

“I hate her and her stupid horse!” Arhys screamed.

Before Karigan could retort, Arhys smacked her in the face and surprise made her release the girl. She felt blood trickle from her nose. She wiped it and smeared blood across her wrist. When she looked up, Arhys was folded in the professor’s arms, her angel’s face pressed against his chest, everyone staring at Karigan in condemnation.

“Miss Goodgrave!” Mirriam cried. “What were you doing to the child?”

Karigan looked to the professor, but even his gaze was accusing, his hold on Arhys protective. What did they see in the girl? She was nothing but a spoiled brat.

“Yes,” the professor said, his voice the flat, low growl of a dog preparing to attack. “What were you doing to Arhys? Speak!”

Karigan’s mouth dropped open. The professor had a look in his eye, the one suggesting he’d kill her if she didn’t say the right thing. The contrast from the congenial man she’d grown to know shocked her.

Then suddenly Luke was at her side and the stable boys behind him. Somehow they’d gotten around the upset Raven to reach her. Luke held out his hand and helped her stagger to her feet. “Raven’s much calmer now,” he reassured her.

To the professor, he said, “Sir, Miss Goodgrave saved the lass’s life.” He went on to describe how he was roused by the stallion’s whinnies, and when he came to see what the matter was, he’d found Arhys taunting and lashing at the stallion with the carriage whip. Luke’s quarters were in the rear of the stable, and he and his boys had been trapped behind Raven, unable to reach Arhys.

“A blessing Miss Goodgrave came when she did,” Luke continued, “or Arhys would’ve been done for.”

“Is this true?” the professor asked of no one in particular.

“Liar! Big fat liar!” Arhys cried.

“It’s true,” the stable boys chorused in counterpoint. “We saw it.”

“I told you that horse was dangerous,” Mirriam said. “He almost killed Arhys.”

Enough anger had built in Karigan that she stepped toward Mirriam and pointed at her. “The horse was a danger to Arhys only because she put herself there. Any horse can be dangerous if it’s tormented enough.”

“Miss Goodgrave!” Mirriam snapped. “I—”

“Silence!” the professor bellowed. “Arhys, you’ve been a very naughty girl. Very foolish.”

“But you didn’t get me a horse! Why should
she
have one?”

“We will talk about this,” he said, “but right now, Mirriam is going to take you to your room and there you shall remain until I say so.”

“No!”

“Do as I say.”

Mirriam dragged the shrieking child away and ordered the servants back to the house. Luke and his lads returned to the stable, leaving Karigan alone with the professor.

“I am sorry, my dear.” He produced a fresh handkerchief and offered it to her.

She pressed it to her nose, but discovered the blood was already drying.

“Arhys is headstrong and spoiled, and I’m overprotective.”

“I’d—I’d best see to Raven.” She turned to go, but he touched her arm.

A tick pulsed in his cheek as though he struggled over what he wanted to say. “I need to thank you. I’m indebted to you. You not only saved the life of an innocent child—troublesome though she might be—but also that of the heir to the throne.”

Karigan was not sure she’d heard correctly. “Throne? What throne? The emperor’s?”

“No. As I told you, he assassinates all his offspring. No, Arhys is heir to the throne of Sacoridia. She is directly descended from the king you served, and his queen.”

K
arigan shook herself, not sure she’d heard him right. He had spoken barely above a whisper, though the yard was empty of potential eavesdroppers.

“That—” She was about to say “brat,” but caught herself in time. “Arhys is a direct . . . ? A descendent of . . . ?”

The professor nodded. The brightening morning revealed the seriousness etched into his features. “We, the opposition, have preserved the bloodline. It’s been so very dangerous. The heirs were always hunted by the emperor. The general belief is that the line was wiped out when a boy, who would have been Arhys’ uncle, was slain. We managed to keep his younger sister separate and safe, her identity hidden. Arhys’ mother. She died in childbirth, however.”

“So King Zachary and Estora . . .”

“Had a son. When Sacor City fell, the queen escaped with her son and went into hiding. They were hunted ceaselessly, and it is said only the queen’s courage kept them alive.”

Karigan wanted to sit down. This was one revelation too many on too little sleep.

“You should get inside,” the professor said, “warm up.”

“I’m not cold,” she replied, though she was, and had wrapped her arms around herself to ward off a chill. “Does Arhys know what she is?”

The professor gave a throaty chuckle. “Can you imagine what she’d be like if we told her she was to be queen?”

Karigan shuddered at the thought.

“No, for her safety, and ours, she will not know till she comes of age. So now, perhaps, you understand why I coddle her a little too much. I really must learn another approach—it would not do to have a spoiled brat on the throne.” He hesitated, then said, “I expect that you, as a Green Rider, will guard this secret with your life. You will, won’t you?” His tone was both pleading and tinged with the inherent threat that if she did not comply, her own existence was forfeit. The professor would protect his royal heir at whatever the cost, and no matter how much he might regret it.

Arhys was Zachary’s many-great granddaughter. How could Karigan not guard such a secret? Besides, she would never let harm befall the girl, no matter who she was, or how foolish. “You have my oath,” she replied, “as a royal messenger of the king.”

“Thank you.” He bowed formally and looked wistful. “I should have liked to have met your king, he who instills such loyalty. Now, perhaps we should go in?”

“I need to check on Raven.”

“Mirriam may be right,” he mused.

“About Raven?”

He nodded. “Too dangerous to keep.”

Anger rose in Karigan once again. “He was provoked. Keep Arhys away, and he’ll be all right.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“You just told me an important secret,” she said, “so I’ll tell you one in return. Raven is a Green Rider horse. A
true
Green Rider horse, and if you know anything of your history, you’ll know that Green Rider horses are exceptional.” She did not await an answer but turned and strode for the stables.

She found all four horses, housed in the stables, including Raven, each in their stalls munching on hay. Raven spared her just a passing glance before returning to his fodder.

Luke joined her at the stall door. “He calmed down just as soon as you got Arhys out of here,” he remarked. “Can’t decide if it was brave or crazy of you to pull Arhys out of his way. Er . . .” He looked chagrined, as if suddenly remembering she was supposed to be crazy. “So, is the professor gonna get rid of Raven?”

“I don’t think so,” Karigan replied, hoping that her shared secret was enough to convince him of Raven’s value.

“Good,” Luke said with emphasis. “None of it’s his fault if he doesn’t like getting teased.” That said, he sauntered off to attend to his other duties.

Satisfied that Raven was content, she left the stable for the house, limping a little from the strain of running and the previous night’s swordplay, but not as much as she might have guessed. She was truly healing, and it was only a matter of time before the cast, which had begun to look rather grimy of late, came off her wrist.

When she entered the house, the servants regarded her with silence, and she hastened her step. After she climbed the stairs and headed down the corridor to her bedroom, she was not surprised to hear Mirriam bustling behind her. Indeed, the head housekeeper, now fully dressed, followed Karigan right into her bedroom. Karigan rolled her eyes at the expected, “Miss Goodgrave!”

But then Mirriam froze as she took in the open window and Cloudy the cat sitting on the bed. She screamed and went for the broom with which Karigan had been practicing forms before acquiring the bonewood.

“Cat!”
Mirriam cried in horror. With astonishing speed, she slammed the broom on the bed, but Cloudy was already out the window. Mirriam scrambled to the window, holding the broom as a shield, and looked this way and that for some moments before slamming the sash shut. She turned her back to it and sagged, her hand on her heaving chest.

Karigan waited for the inevitable upbraiding to come. She said nothing while Mirriam caught her breath and collected herself.

“We have been over this,” Mirriam finally said, pointing at Karigan. “No open windows! I shall have it nailed shut if I must.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Karigan replied.

“I should hope not. But if it comes to it—”

“I doubt my uncle would permit it, in case there was a fire or something.”

Mirriam blanched, revealing she knew exactly to what Karigan referred.

“The window shall remain closed regardless,” Mirriam said. “And the vermin! I will see that one of the gardeners destroys it!”

That was it. Karigan had had it. She was tired of this strange world, she missed her home and her friends, and she’d been awake far too long hearing the most incredible—and terrible—tales of what had become of her world. Mirriam’s imperious ways were like the spark to an explosion. Karigan stepped right up to her. “You will do no such thing. If you so much as harm a hair on his body, I will—” Karigan thought hard for a suitable threat. “I will draw such attention to this house that you will want to wither in shame, and my uncle will have no choice but to dismiss you.”

“How dare you!”

“No, how dare
you.
” The rage was on her now, and she could not help but lash out, somehow maintaining enough control to uphold her guise as Kari Goodgrave, the privileged niece of Bryce Lowell Josston. “I think you forget your place, Mirriam. You are a servant in the employ of Professor Josston, and I am Professor Josston’s niece. I do not answer to you as the servants do. It is rather the other way around.”

“You have a sickness of the mind. You—”

“I am not so sick that I don’t know the place of servants.” All of Karigan’s frustrations about her situation, and all that had happened to her since arriving in this house, enflamed her words.

Mirriam’s mouth worked but nothing came out for once. Obviously no one had ever stood up to her before, and Karigan could almost see the woman’s brain trying to realign her understanding of her place in the world.

After a time, she smoothed her skirts and drew on a neutral expression. “Very well. Might I suggest Miss Goodgrave bathe and leave her dirty nightgown out so it might be laundered?”

“You know,” Karigan said, as if she hadn’t just heard Mirriam, “I believe I shall take a bath.” It was like twisting the dagger, and strangely satisfying. “And I think this nightgown ought to be laundered.”

Mirriam visibly fought with herself, trying to suppress a rebuke, but she swallowed and said in a constricted voice, “As you wish, Miss Goodgrave.” And she left Karigan just standing there.

Karigan, too tired to feel victorious, wanted to flop in bed and catch up on sleep, but she could just as easily nap in the tub, which would also relieve her aching muscles. She plucked at her nightgown, soiled with dirt, sweat, blood, and maybe a bit of horse manure. At least her confrontation with Arhys at the stables would explain any dirt picked up from her time at the mill.

“What a day,” she murmured, gazing at the morning light pouring into her room. And it had hardly even begun.

 • • • 

A long soak was just the thing, though Karigan’s mind, too filled with all the revelations acquired since last night, would not allow her to doze off. The emperor was Lord Amberhill? Maybe it was because she was so tired, but the thought produced a latent chortle that sent ripples across the surface of the bath water. The revelation that followed, however, that Dr. Silk wished to acquire this dragonfly device, was far less shocking. But the idea that machines existed—machines that could drill through all the bedrock into the tombs—caused her to tremble, rippling the bath water once again.

And then there was Arhys. It was not the little girl being the heir that so staggered Karigan, but that she was directly descended from King Zachary and Estora. Queen Estora. She’d known the two would marry, and that offspring was inevitable. That was why royals married after all—to maintain the line of succession and the stability of the realm. No, these things were not unexpected, but the girl was a living, breathing extension of Zachary, a connection to Karigan’s own life, a link to Zachary himself.

Painful as it was, she thought she would always love him, no matter that he had to marry Estora, but Karigan’s feelings were tempered by her situation, that she now lived so many years—almost two centuries—after his death. Maybe she was better off in this time. Knowing he was entirely out of her reach, she would not be tempted to . . . she shook her head and splashed water on her face.

Even if she were back in her home time, even though she knew and understood the reality, she would continue to love him in her own way. She would always fight to protect him, and if that meant helping to protect Arhys? There was no question that she’d do so with all her being.

With that, she sighed and rose from the now lukewarm water to see what the rest of the day held for her.

 • • • 

Apparently it held obsequious servants. Lorine awaited in Karigan’s bed chamber and curtsied when she entered. Lorine had been quiet, respectful, and efficient before, but now there was a distance as she helped Karigan into her morning dress; no cheerful conversation, just silence. Fewer smiles. When she finished the stays on Karigan’s dress, she backed away, curtsied again, and asked, “Would Miss Goodgrave like me to help her with her hair?”

There had never been any question before—Karigan had always welcomed Lorine’s help with her hair, especially since her broken wrist made everything more complicated. She nodded and sat in her chair so Lorine could begin. Lorine had always seemed to enjoy brushing out Karigan’s long hair, and then either braiding it, or pinning it up. Today, as the horsehair brush worked through her locks, she detected no enjoyment from Lorine, and shifted uncomfortably.

When her hair was done, she left her room to attend breakfast. Lorine followed at a polite, subservient distance. When she reached the dining room, the professor’s butler, Grott, bowed to her and pulled out her chair.

“Good morning!” the professor called cheerfully to her from his end of the table. One would never know from his present demeanor the disaster that had almost struck earlier this morning.

Beside him, Cade nodded his greeting, quickly averting his gaze. The other students were absent.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

Ham, eggs, sweet buns, and tea were brought to her by bowing servants. They even spread butter and strawberry preserves on her toast for her. The professor watched with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Karigan had the dreadful feeling that whatever she’d said to Mirriam, who was nowhere in sight, had trickled down through the rest of the staff. She barely tasted her food, regretting having lost her patience with the woman, yet she had enough of being endlessly badgered. At times Mirriam was worse than all four of her aunts together. Still, she feared losing possible allies among the staff, and she needed allies in this hostile world. She sighed heavily.

“That was certainly heartfelt,” the professor said.

She looked up in surprise. The professor was already into his kauv and paper of news. Cade had slipped away unnoticed.

“A little preoccupied, my dear?”

“It’s been a long day,” she replied.

“Already?” He chuckled, then said, “You should know that it has been made clear to this household that only you, Luke, and Luke’s lads are allowed to go anywhere near Raven. It’s also been made clear that you will visit Raven as you wish and that no one is to discourage you from doing so.”

Karigan wanted to cheer. At least something positive had come of this morning’s events.

“Luke has, of course, been notified as well. You may trust him with . . . whatever may be required.”

Did this mean Luke was aware of the professor’s opposition to the emperor and his various secrets? She could not ask openly and could not come up with a discreet way of asking. In any case, she would proceed cautiously.

“How is Arhys?” she asked. She noted a slight quickening of interest from the servants.

“She has already endured one lecture from me this morning.” A slight smile formed beneath his mustache. “She is confined to her room for the day so she can contemplate her actions of this morning.”