Verenice was certain there was more—how could there not be, as this was not at all a situation that would simply sort itself out—but she recognized the words of a woman who had shared all she was going to at that moment. “Also, I’m here because if I know the Unseen World, no one else will have visited.”
“Oh, a couple have tried.” Miranda straightened the edges of her sandwich and centered it on her plate. “Miles Merlin, to gloat. The Dees, for the same reason. All the fun of a funeral, except with a living subject. I wouldn’t see any of them.
“I suppose that’s the good thing about all of this. I never need to be polite to some sycophantic ass again.” The corners of her mouth approximated a smile.
“If you’re through being polite, why did you let me come up unannounced?” Verenice asked.
“Because of Sydney.” And here the carefully crafted facade began to break. “Because I want you to tell me that Sydney will be all right. That what happened to her, in there, that it won’t matter.”
Verenice set her cup down. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by all right. I still have nightmares, for example. It took me almost a year after I got out before I stopped hearing the screaming every time I closed my eyes. There is a great deal of screaming inside Shadows.” Her voice was distant, meditative. “And, of course, she’s not free yet. Not all the way. She’s still bound to the service of the House until she’s used enough magic under its direction that it agrees she’s paid off the debt incurred by living there.”
“The debt?” Miranda asked. “But she didn’t have a choice.”
“That doesn’t matter. We were taught. Trained. Housed. And so we owe. I assume the end of the Turning will see her free—her service to Shadows in the course of it involves a lot of big magic in a short time. That’s providing that she survives. Which is not a given—aside from the risks inherent in a Turning, the House may order her to lose.”
“To lose?” Miranda, horrified. “That would kill her. Why would they want that?”
“Because it would serve the House.” Steady, implacable. “And until we are truly free, we can do nothing that does not serve the House.”
Tears gathered in Miranda’s eyes.
“You asked because you knew I wouldn’t lie,” Verenice said. “And it’s unlikely that Shara would waste her in that fashion. But not impossible.
“To return to your original question, I survived everything I was asked to do, and most days, I like my life, so I suppose I am ‘all right.’ You can decide for yourself if that’s enough to assuage your guilt.”
“Do you think Sydney will like her life?” Miranda said, her teacup forgotten in her trembling hand.
“I think,” Verenice said gently, “that I’m not the one you need to ask that question.”
“She won’t talk to me. Not really. She’s like a stranger.”
“Miranda. Can you blame her?”
Miranda pressed her lips together until they went white. The teacup rattled as she set it down. “If you’ll forgive me, I find I need to be alone. But I am deeply grateful to you for visiting.”
“If you like,” Verenice said, “I could come by again.”
“I would like that,” Miranda said. “Very much.”
? ? ?
Sydney agreed to meet, but only if she could choose the location. “The Met. The Temple of Dendur.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Any particular reason?” Ian asked.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
As he walked in, he was struck again by the fact that it was—the quality of the light through the glass, the calming stillness of the reflecting pond, the grace and antiquity of the Temple. He joined Sydney on a corner at the water’s edge, leaving careful space between them.
“I’m prepared to release you from your obligations to House Prospero,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to look at the contract specifically, but I will obviously make good on any financial debts the House owes to you for your service thus far in the Turning.”
“I have no desire to be released from any obligations I might owe you,” he said. “And it wasn’t a financial contract. I serve as champion of House Prospero in the hopes that doing so will put the House is a position of enough power at the end of the Turning to break the Unseen World’s relationship with the House of Shadows.”
A flicker of expression crossed her face, the subtlest thing. On anyone else, it would have been the equivalent of jaw-dropped shock. “I see.”
“You know, I’m sure, that House Merlin helped found the House of Shadows,” he said.
She nodded.
“It is not something my family is only passively involved in. It would have been bad enough, if that were everything. But Shara—Shara is my aunt.” His hands went to the scars on Sydney’s hands and arms. She left them uncovered now, as everyone knew who she was and where she came from, but his shame would have given him a lens to see them even through makeup.
“She’s the one who required the challenge to House Prospero,” Sydney said. “She knew that you were its champion. What she wants—what she’s always wanted—is power. And not just the sort of power she has now, over life and death and pain and suffering. She wants power where she’s seen. She thinks that as the Unseen World would not function as it does without the House of Shadows, Shadows should lead it. She sees this Turning as a way to make that happen.”
“There’s something else you should know,” he said, ignoring that his aunt had ordered his probable death. It was among the least of the things she was guilty of. “Lara and I both strongly suspect that Miles is in the process of losing his magic, if it’s not already gone. And she knows that he was at least part of the interference in our duel.” He explained what Lara had told him.
“I suspected it might be Grey,” Sydney said. “He’s made it quite clear that he thinks Prospero should be his. He might’ve thought Miranda was the only thing in his way.”
“But why would Miles help him?”
“Shara would find that useful. She’d trade him,” Sydney said. “Magic for power. With neither of them knowing who I was, Miles could have pretended to promise Prospero to Grey, and meant it to go to Shara in exchange for access to more magic.”
“Is that even possible?” Ian asked. “Giving him more magic, I mean.”
“Of course. It’s only a variation on the spell that already exists. Make that stronger, increase the number of sacrifices, pull more magic from them—there are ways. There’s always a way. The only limit is what people are willing to trade to get what they want.”
“I want Shadows ended,” Ian said.
“House Prospero is pleased to accept your ongoing service.” Sydney rested her hand on top of his for just a moment. Three breaths, no more. Just long enough to acknowledge all that was said and unsaid, in this room full of history.
? ? ?
Shara sang as her knife scratched across Grace’s radius. No lyrics, just Shara’s voice, rising and falling in counterpoint to the scratch of the knife, to the blood that dripped to the ground, that sank into the floor of Shadows and disappeared. It was not a particularly soothing melody.
The song paused. The knife continued its work.
“I could train you,” Shara said.