Amelia dipped her chin. “I appreciate your granting me an audience.”
“Nonsense, your visit was overdue and much anticipated.” Next, the Marchioness turned to me. “And I see that you’ve brought a companion.”
Amelia curtsied again. “Yes, my Lady. I’d like to present Fleur.”
The Marchioness eyed me carefully. “And how are you two related, precisely?” The look of disdain in her chocolate-colored eyes said she already knew the answer.
“Amelia and I share the same father but have different mothers.”
“I see.” The Marchioness’ nostrils flared. “How interesting.” The way she said that last word, I could tell she thought me as engaging as a smear of dung.
Amelia took a protective step closer to my side. “I met Fleur in the orphanage when our father came to find us. You know how he was.”
“How kind of you to take the girl in,” said the Marchioness smoothly. “Few would do so much for full-blooded relation.” She arched her thin brows. “In fact, some might have questions about allowing a stranger into their lives. After all, who can know their true intentions?”
It was an effort to keep looking lovely and aloof. In truth, all I wanted to do was cast a bone melter spell on the Marchioness. How dare she question my motives? It made me all the more angry because, deep down, I knew she was just a little bit right. By entering Amelia’s life, I had placed her in danger.
Amelia lifted her chin. “I trust Fleur. Absolutely.”
A warm sense of pride swelled in my chest. I hadn’t known Amelia very long, but there was no question in my mind that she was an honest person. Her trust in me seemed genuine, and that was a great gift indeed.
“How fortunate for you.” The Marchioness flicked her long fingers, and a servant stepped up from the doorway. “We’ll enjoy some refreshments.” An odd look shone in her eyes as she spoke that last word. It was clearly some kind of signal. Suddenly, my dress seemed far too heavy and hot. I was certainly no favorite of the Marchioness. What exactly did the suspect about me?
The servant marched quickly from the room. A few seconds later, a Fantome walked into the reception chamber. It took everything I had not to gasp. She was a spritely thing that had the classic look of a Necromancer, with pale skin, dark features, and long black robes. My heart sank. She’d joined us based on the signal from the Marchioness.
That wasn’t good.
All Fantomes wore loose robes with heavy hoods. It wasn’t proper garb for a Necromancer. We had fitted robes that showed our different stations. Still, I didn’t need a robe to know what level of mage now approached me. All Fantomes were Grand Masters or Mistresses, the same as me. The woman stepped closer, her face unreadable.
Be careful, Elea.
Amelia and Philippe shared a worried glance. The Marchioness waved off their fears. “Don’t worry. She isn’t here for either of you.” She turned to me. “Fleur, meet Kamilla.”
I curtsied and took a closer look at the mage before me. Kamilla was petite and elf-like with bone structure that was so sharp her cheeks looked hollowed out.
“Greetings, Kamilla.” Philippe stepped directly between the Fantome and me. “I hope you realize how important my sisters are to me. Both of them.”
In response, Kamilla only glared at him. For a tiny lady, I had no doubt she could level the room.
The Marchioness slowly seated herself in one of the larger throne-like chairs. “Don’t be rude, Philippe. The Marquis and I are honored to have a Fantome present on our property.” The way she spoke, the Marchioness seemed anything but honored. Angry beyond belief was more like it. “We defer to her will in all things.”
“And in this, my will is clear.” Kamilla glared in my direction. “You’re to leave with me.”
Philippe lifted his chin. “Not a chance.” He struck a gallant figure with his blond hair and fitted longcoat. Defying a Fantome wasn’t necessarily smart, although I admired his determination.
Sadly, he didn’t stand a chance against a Grand Mistress Necromancer.
Kamilla raised her fist. Her fingers were decorated with totem rings. “Back.”
With only that one word, one of Kamilla’s totem rings lit up with a flare of magick blue flame. A ball of azure-colored energy pummeled Philippe’s stomach, forcing him backward. The poor man’s body whipped across the floor until he slammed into the wall. I gasped. What an outrage. Necromancers were schooled to save our powers for those who attacked. Philippe was just posturing. I rushed to his side, along with Amelia.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Philippe took in a few shallow breaths before giving me a shaky grin. “Only if you kiss and make it better.” He tapped his mouth. “It hurts here.”
Amelia patted his shoulder. Relief was evident on her face. “He’ll be fine.”
Kamilla stalked toward Philippe. “No one tells a Fantome what to do.”