Sydney gritted her teeth as the boat took her to Shadows through what had turned from snow to freezing rain. She was certain this was Shara once again summoning her for no purpose other than to prove she could, and to carve one more sliver off her torn and ragged shadow. She resented the cold, and the night, and the being subject to someone’s whim. The boat scratched against the shore, and she stomped inside.
Soaking wet and the cold an ache in her bones, she was grateful that the House didn’t force her in some roundabout path, but brought her to Shara directly.
“The challenges have become mortal,” Shara said. The air around her cracked and snapped with frost.
“They have,” Sydney said. Magic like spring below her skin, green and humid. Not quite warmth, not in this place, but a ward against the worst of the cold.
“And so the House requires a challenge. House Prospero.”
And there it was. This was the plan. This had always been the plan. When Shara had first explained how the House would use her during the Turning, this particular challenge was the one that had been mentioned with specificity. Sydney had agreed because it hadn’t mattered to her at the time, because at the time all she could see was how well that fit into her own plans for the Turning. “Is there a time frame in which the House would like this to be carried out?”
“Soon. It need not be immediate, but if the House feels you are taking too long, there will be consequences. I suspect that you will not enjoy them.”
Shara’s fingers curled, and Sydney felt the sensation of hundreds of legs crawling over her skin. She did not allow herself to shudder. “Will there be anything else?”
“I thought you’d be happier, Sydney,” Shara said.
“I am always happy to serve the House.” Expected words, required sentiments.
“Which is why the House has given you this opportunity—vengeance on the House that cast you aside. That is what you feel, isn’t it?” An expression that some might have called a smile, overlarge and too sweet. “That you were cast aside and thrown away.”
Years of practice gave her the strength to keep her face blank, to not give Shara the satisfaction of knowing that every word had been a knife, twisted. “I don’t have a House.”
“Except for Shadows. You’ll always be a part of Shadows.” Shara held up the knife, the pen.
Sydney leaned as hard as she could into the pain as her shadow was cut away, letting it fill her, letting it be all she knew. It seemed like every time she walked back through the doors, she had more secrets to hide, but she had kept them all so far, and she would not let today change that. Better to endure pain than to betray herself.
She signed her name and walked back out into the sleet.
? ? ?
Sydney wanted Madison to feel comfortable, so she asked to meet at the neighborhood bar again. A comfortable setting seemed kinder, somehow, when you were about to ask someone to do something where the consequences of saying yes ranged from “getting fired” to “death.” She was pretty sure she could keep Madison safe from that last one, but drinks were in order.
“I need information,” Sydney said, after their drinks arrived, “about how the Houses are inherited.” Shara’s request itched at her. Not that it was unexpected, or that Shara or Shadows had ever bothered explaining things—you don’t explain things to a gun; you simply aim and fire—but she wanted to know what Shara was getting out of the deal. No matter what she had said, this challenge wasn’t because Shadows was trying to allow Sydney personal vengeance. She wanted to know why she had been aimed in this particular direction.
“I assume you’re not asking because congratulations are in order,” Madison said.
Sydney stared.
“Right. Well, you’ll need to be more specific—under what circumstances is the House being inherited. I mean, outside of the conventional will and a named heir.”
“Let’s start easy,” Sydney said. “There are biological descendants, but no named heirs.”
“That one’s easy. In case of death or permanent incapacity, things pass by typical intestate succession—spouse first, then any biological children.”
“Permanent incapacity?” Sydney asked.
“Significant mental illness or brain damage, the kind that would interfere with magic use, or outright loss of magic,” Madison said. “There are legal processes and safeguards in place to confirm each.”
Sydney stirred her drink. “What about if there is a biological heir that hasn’t been recognized?”
“Like a lost heir problem?” Madison perked up. “I always wanted one of those. The basic proof could come from a Perdita spell, or any of the other pieces of magic that will confirm genetics. Perdita’s considered the most rigorous, and so it’s preferred. Then you introduce the heir to the House—if the House recognizes them and opens the door in front of witnesses, it’s irrefutable.”
“Recognizes them?” Sydney asked.
“The physical Houses have magical locks, ones that recognize the blood of the family that holds them. If the House opens its doors to you, you belong there.”
“Interesting,” Sydney said. “Okay, what if there is a known biological descendant, but they’ve been disinherited and the House has no named heir?”
Madison took a long drink of her martini. “You’re not speaking in hypotheticals anymore, are you?” There was only one House in living memory that had disinherited one of its children and had no named heir: Prospero.
“No,” Sydney said. “I’m not.”
“And is there someone else who is a blood heir, who would pass the House’s test?”
“There is. I know how to find that person, and I know they would hold the House.”
Madison closed her eyes. “I’m going to need another drink.”
“They’re on me,” Sydney said.
“Sydney, that House that we’re both very carefully not naming, that’s a big, important House, and there is no sign that its current Head is about to vacate her duties. I know you have plans, big scary plans, and my willingness to support you in them hasn’t changed, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I think so. There’s someone else I need to talk to, and a lot will depend on how that conversation goes. And no, that conversation won’t include a discussion of the outright assassination of a current Head of House.”
“That is something of a relief.” Madison did not look like her stress level had been lessened by Sydney’s assurances.