Concealed (Beholder #2)

At last, the mansion appeared atop the crest of a hill. It was a sprawling estate that gleamed with golden paint. I supposed the scale was meant to intimidate. Based on how my stomach had begun to squirm, I was afraid it was working.


Amelia gripped my hands again. “Do you think we can really do this?”

“Absolutely.” I was pleased that my voice didn’t waver.

Amelia nodded slowly. “I believe you.”

The carriage rolled to a stop. After all the hours of practice, the moment had arrived. Now I could only hope that we’d find answers in this den of social serpents. My fellow Necromancers were counting on it.





Chapter Nine





I stepped into the waiting chamber of the Marquis and Marchioness de Havilland. Once there, I stood stock-still. The place was empty, yet that wasn’t what made me pause. There were magickal wards in here—spells of detection and security that had been cast by a Fantome. It all had an oily feeling to it, like my skin was being dipped in sludge. This was definitely the work of a single mage.

On reflex, I scanned the room. The guard had mentioned there was a mage in residence. Would this person be hiding here?

Everywhere I looked, there were images of lions tearing into their prey. The beasts were woven into the tapestries that hung along the walls, set into intricate mosaics on the floor, and painted onto the murals covering the vaulted ceiling. Even the chairs were carved with the faces of growling lions on the backrests.

The whole scene was meant to shock and impress visitors. After all, the lion was the animal on the Havilland coat of arms. I quickly caught myself and stopped staring. Philippe and Amelia stood beside me. A pair of servants in gold-colored livery stepped into the room.

“Wait here,” said the first servant.

The second servant looked at me like I was week-old garbage. “Do not take a seat unless bidden to.” News of my non-noble lineage must have passed quickly up from the guardhouse. The pair of servants stared at me expectantly.

I inclined my head slightly and turned away. If those servants were hoping to see me red-faced over being a supposed bastardess, they were both mistaken. In the world of Necromancy, lineage meant nothing. Magick was everything.

“Thank you,” said Amelia smoothly. “You may take your leave now.”

“As you wish, my lady.” The servants turned away, closing the door quietly behind them.

Philippe folded his arms over his chest. “You could have called them out on their tone, Fleur. They don’t know your lineage for certain. It would have been within your rights to chastise them.”

“I’ve more important things to focus on.” I paced around the room, my gown trailing behind me with each step. I’d only been wearing it for an hour or so, and already I wanted to tear the damned thing off. To pass the time, I scanned every scene of lion-led carnage. The number and variety of animals shown was amazing. There were lions killing gazelles, deer, bears, other lions… The list went on and on. Amelia told me how the Havilland family enjoyed hunting, but this was something else. What kind of bloodthirsty folks were they?

A golden door swung open on the opposite side of the room. Another servant stepped inside, this one a woman. She wore the same yellow livery with a small matching cap. She stopped and bowed in our direction. “The Marquis and Marchioness Havilland will now grace you with their presence.”

Amelia and I curtsied as a willowy man and woman stepped into the chamber. Both had ebony skin, brown wigs, and elegant bone structure. The woman’s yellow silk gown matched her husband’s perfectly tailored longcoat as they crossed the room in lockstep. The Marquis was tall and broad-shouldered. Normally, I didn’t like a man in a wig, but somehow the Marquis made it seem dignified. Meanwhile, the Marchioness was everything long limbed, slender, and elegant. Her wig towered on her head, and much as I hate to admit it, it suited her quite well. She looked nothing less than regal.

The noble pair first paused before Philippe. The Marchioness tilted her head as if trying to remember his name. “How nice of you to visit. Philippe, is it?”

Now, that was impressive. You wouldn’t know the pair were lovers.

“Yes, Marchioness.” Philippe took her hand in his and kissed the back of her knuckles. “How kind of you to remember me.”

“My memory would improve if you visited more often.” The Marchioness turned to her husband. “Don’t you think Philippe should join our regular company?”

The Marquis lifted his brows. “You hunt?”

“Yes.”

“Raise dogs?”

Philippe sniffed. “Only fools trust a breeder.”

“Excellent. I must introduce you to my Master of the Hounds.”

“It would be my honor.”

I kept my features carefully calm, yet inside? I was wide-eyed with shock. The Marchioness had just manipulated her husband into agreeing to allow her lover to visit more often. And beyond that, to become his friend. Back on the farm, that kind of behavior got all parties involved nothing more than a fat lip. Here, no one seemed to bat an eyelash.

The Marchioness moved to stand before Amelia. “And how lovely to see you, my sweet.”