“Daddy Dearest merely wants to chat with you.”
“Amelia.” I shot her a grave look. “He wants me dead.”
“Don’t be silly. He wants everyone dead at some point. Besides, you’re my friend now. We’re off on a great adventure. Nothing more.” She slipped her satin-clad arm into mine and tugged me toward the house.
With that, it seemed I had become friends with the Lady Amelia Masson. And I liked that feeling far more than I should have.
Mother Superior would not be pleased.
Chapter Three
My tavern room held little more than a small cot, a side table, and my traveling trunk. The walls were made of rough-hewn wood. A small mottled window peeped out over a view of thin and winding streets. I’d come here right after my visit with Amelia, and the place was as discreet as she’d promised. The innkeeper barely looked at me when I registered. No one asked my name. It was perfect.
Now I had safely moved into my room with daylight left to burn. That meant one thing.
Time to prepare for my regular spell casting.
I began by closing the shutters over my window. Sure, this tavern looked out over a set of isolated streets. Even so, I couldn’t risk anyone seeing the light as I cast my magick. I finished with the window, opened my traveling trunk, pulled out a collection of rags, and set about plugging up every crevice I could find. After that, I double-checked my work.
This is as safe as things will get.
I was ready to cast my spell. Every day, I used magick to try and see Ada. It was a tricky affair because this particular spell reached out over time and space. If I wasn’t careful, it would act as a warning bell to the Fantomes. Casting it was risky, but I’d become desperate. I needed to see where Ada was kept.
Trouble was, even though I cast this spell every day, I had yet to see anything useful. Sorrow weighed down on my shoulders. How much longer could I keep going? At some point, I had to admit it was hopeless, didn’t I? Rowan’s words came back to me.
“Don’t give up. If anyone can find Ada, it’s you.”
I straightened my shoulders and reminded myself of my power as a Grand Mistress Necromancer. The more I cast a spell, the better I got at it. Maybe this time, I’d see something that could help.
Closing my eyes, I reached out to the energy and memories that lingered in this room. The air was thick with the history of those who’d been here before. Determination, weariness, passion… I pulled all that energy into my body and focused it into my left arm. The bones there glowed sapphire-bright with magick. After taking in a deep breath, I spoke the words for a seeing spell.
In all spirit, there is power
In these shadows, I find light
Heed my spell, the whisper’s hour
From the darkness, give me sight
With a flick of my wrist, I released the energy from my hand. A blue mist appeared around the floor. Beautiful.
The haze turned thicker until I was surrounded by an azure-colored cloud. With a snap of my fingers, the mist cleared away. Now, I no longer stood in the small tavern room, but in a long stone hallway that was lined with stout, metal doors.
I was in Ada’s dungeon. Again. My heart sank.
The visions from my spell always took me to the same place and time. Here was the dank underground prison cells where Ada and Veronique were first kept. Condensation dripped down the dark and slimy stones. The air was rife with the scent of urine and filth. Soft cries echoed down the hallway, tugging at my heart. The voice was that of a young girl.
My eyes pricked with tears. Ada’s weeping.
I stepped up to one of the closed dungeon doors. The first time my magick had taken me to this moment, I’d frantically searched up and down the passage until I found her. After so many visits, I now knew exactly what door to check. I moved closer, my limbs heavy with dread. It took a force of will to peer through the metal bars covering the small window-hole. The cell was small, dark, and empty, save for two figures.
Ada sat inside, her tiny six-year-old frame wearing the same gray Novice robes she’d had on when I last saw her in the Midnight Cloister. She was curled into Veronique’s lap, her head buried in the older girl’s shoulder. The child’s high-pitched sobs rang through the air. Each one was like a lash against my skin, reminding me how I’d failed my young friend.
My throat tightened with grief. Ada’s pale face was streaked with dirt, and her brown eyes were red from weeping. Veronique’s long blonde hair was held back with a leather tie, and her once-smooth face was lined with worry.
“Shh,” Veronique whispered. “Elea will find us. You heard the guards. Someone sent the Tsar into exile. That had to be our Elea. She’ll come for us next. Mark my words.”