“He killed my best friend,” Harper said.
“Good fucking reason to take a risk,” Sydney said. “And I’m so sorry. Forward the pictures to me.”
“Sydney?” Madison asked.
“I am a special project. I have no problem being the entire criminal division besides. And as you pointed out before, we’re in the middle of a Turning. Things happen. Fortune’s Wheel does turn. I’m just going to help Fortune out a bit.”
? ? ?
Miles Merlin sat at his customary table at the Mages’ Club, watching as Sydney crossed the floor toward him, the doorman trailing like jetsam in her wake.
“Miss! Miss! You can’t just—I’m sorry, sir. She wouldn’t listen.”
“Mind if I join you?” Sydney slid into the chair across from him. “I hear you’ve been talking to a lot of people about me. Making up stories about me stealing magic, telling people that I shouldn’t be allowed to hold my House because of where I grew up. It’s almost like you think I’m not as good as you, which is so weird, considering how close your House is to Shadows. How much help you get from there.” She spoke clearly enough that interested ears from all over the club turned their way.
Merlin waved off the doorman. “It’s fine. She can stay.”
“Smart choice,” Sydney said, setting her phone on the table.
“Obviously you have something that’s so important to say to me that you didn’t have time to be polite.” Merlin smiled, an indulgent parent looking at a misbehaving child. “I didn’t see the need to make you wait any longer.”
She opened the phone to Harper’s pictures, angled the screen toward him.
“Well, that’s certainly macabre.” He curled his lip in distaste.
“It is, isn’t it?” Sydney left the picture up. “And rude—murdering people for their magic.”
“Is that where those are from? Those poor women?” Exaggerated shock and horror.
“Those pictures were taken in your good friend Grey Prospero’s apartment.” Her eyes were sharp as knives as she watched him.
Merlin shook his head. “Grey would never—”
“Cut the crap. He tried before. It’s what got him disinherited.” She paused. “Of course, you’d know that, since as the Head of the Unseen World, you would have signed off on the disinheritance.”
“Did you come here to discuss the finer points of legal procedures?” Miles asked.
“Not at all. I just wanted to let you know that I was aware of those fine points. Of all of the fine points of that case.” She waited for him to react, to show some regret over what he had done to Grace, or at least some fear at being found out, but the only thing on his face was annoyance.
“Is there anything else you’re aware of, or can I go back to my day?”
“Fine. I am also aware of the fact that there was outside interference in the Beauchamps-Prospero duel. You remember that one, Miles, the one where Miranda’s magic was stripped? And not just magical interference, but physical as well. Did Grey know you were going to push her, or did you just decide to help things along?”
“Lower your voice,” Merlin said.
“Yeah, I figured that would be the one that upset you. You people will allow just about anything, but outside interference in an active challenge is right out. If people learn you helped Grey, you could have your House unmade.”
“I don’t control his actions.”
Sydney leaned back in her chair. “I believe you. At least, I believe the precise truth you think you’re telling, because for all your faults, you’re too smart to say anything that would get you in that kind of trouble. So we’ll call Miranda water under the bridge. But what I would like to know is what you’re planning to do about this.” She tapped her finger on the screen of her phone.
“Do about it? An action he’s already been punished for—rather severely—and some rather weakly supported accusations?” Merlin sat back, steepled his fingers. “Even assuming he’s done something that necessitates any action being taken, this is the Turning. Fortune’s Wheel will do what it must. I wouldn’t want to interfere in that.”
“So nothing,” Sydney said. “That’s about what I expected. I just wanted to be sure before I do what I must.”
“And what is that?” Merlin demanded.
“I’m going to give Fortune’s Wheel a fucking push. You might want to consider getting out of the way. Or don’t—I wouldn’t want you to interfere.”
? ? ?
They met this time at the Alice in Wonderland statue. It had been Lara’s favorite place in the park when she was younger. “Do you remember when you made all of the caterpillars in the park crawl their way over here and have a tea party with you?” Ian asked.
“I remember being grounded for a week after and forbidden from magic for two because I had drawn undue attention from the mundane world,” she said. “Dad was furious. Which—nothing’s changed there.”
“What is it this time?” Ian asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “He’s mostly stopped talking to me, except to tell me what challenge is next. I’m fairly certain he’ll go after Sydney, though—he’s just trying to decide if he’s best served by going after her directly, in the hopes that I can actually beat her, or if he’ll challenge Prospero and try to knock her House out of play.
“The smarter thing would be to challenge her House—I don’t have a good chance of beating you, but I have a much better chance of beating you than I do her—but he’s still thick as thieves with Grey, and I think he’s insinuated to Grey that if Sydney dies, he can make sure that Grey inherits.”
“Can he?” Ian asked, letting go of the hypothetical in which their father forced them to try to kill each other.
“I don’t think that’s really the point. I think right now he sees Grey as obvious and expendable, and a good way to deflect attention from people talking about whether Dad still has his magic. Grey’s out there telling everyone who will listen that the failures of magic are due to Sydney getting out of Shadows. It’s patently untrue, as nothing like that happened when Verenice did, but if Grey says it loud enough, it won’t matter if it’s true. People will believe it because it’s the easier story. I think Dad’s hoping Grey will be stupid enough to challenge Laurent and try to kill Sydney himself, and get lucky.”
“He’d have to get very lucky to beat her, but Grey would be exactly stupid enough to think he could,” Ian said.
“There’s one other thing.” She drew in a breath and looked at Ian. “Can you teach me to use magic the way you do?”
“Sure. Of course. But—why now?” He had offered before, and she had never seemed interested. What she did worked, and Shadows was a necessary evil. He hadn’t agreed, but he hadn’t pushed the issue.
“Because I lost my magic the other day.”