Finn didn’t remember pulling the sword from its sheath, but now it was in his hand. It was a fencing sword of the highest quality, sharp as a needle and covered with filigree all up and down the blade, right to the gleaming edge. The balance was perfect, as if the weapon had been forged for him alone.
The duo fought fiercely, as each man looked for an opening. Finn stopped thinking at all. He was focused solely on the battle, one that felt so familiar he knew which moves his rival would make almost before he raised his weapon.
They breathed raggedly and circled. Perhaps a minute went by, though it felt like an hour. Both men seemed driven by emotion rather than intellect. Finn hated, hated the man across from him, whatever his name was.
Suddenly, that same man stepped too quickly to avoid a cut. He slipped on the cold stone and collapsed on the floor with a loud curse.
Do it. Finn’s hand tightened on the grip as he watched his rival scramble to get up off the floor. In his haste, he turned away from Finn, presenting a painfully easy and broad target for the sword. You want to eliminate a rival, a voice said inside his brain, what better way? Think how proud she’ll be of you…
He lunged toward Elliot, the blade pointed directly at the fallen man.
Something deep in his mind surfaced for a moment, a terrifying childhood memory of two men fighting. He thought, That’s not me. Camellia would hate every aspect of this. As she should.
At the last moment, Finn tossed the blade aside, the silver object spinning into a corner. He moved to help his friend up. “Elliot? Are you all right?” A sense of cold washed over him.
The other man blinked, looking around. “Did we come up here for a reason?”
Finn suddenly felt much better. More like himself. He felt free. He hauled Elliot to his feet. “No good reason, trust me. You might be a bit confused.”
Elliot shook his head, bemused. “How did you know? I’m fuzzy-headed! I had the strangest thoughts about…” He looked down at his hand, opening and closing his fingers as if he should be holding something. “As if I was someone else entirely.”
Rapid footsteps grabbed their attention. “What in heaven’s name is happening up here?” Hortense Fitzgerald ran into the room. “Why aren’t you both at the party? What’s going on? The door at the base of the tower was practically blown off its hinges! I heard the worst shouting, and…I say, are you two all right?”
Elliot was looking distinctly dizzy. Finn handed his friend off to Hortense.
“Oh, hullo,” he said, beaming at her. “What are you doing here? Just come up to say hullo? Hullo!”
She shook her head, smiling at his expression. “You say the oddest things, sir.”
“Take him downstairs,” Finn directed. “He hasn’t been quite himself. Whatever you do, don’t let him back up here. I have to go find Camellia.”
“Miss Swift?” Elliot and Hortense asked together.
“Yes, and I can’t wait to explain!”
Hortense nodded, with a secret smile of her own. “I’ll take good care of him. Now go find my friend, and godspeed.”
Finn ran up the next flight of stairs, and then another, and another. He felt that he’d shaken off some horrible drug. His mind was clear at last.
Chapter 16
As she walked, Camellia heard a lilting, tripping tune and followed it eagerly. Why she followed it, she was less sure. She was looking for something…someone?
Her beloved? But who was that? Names escaped her. She would know when she saw him. Of course she would.
But there had been two men in the ballroom. And they argued over her hand. She would not be a pawn for them. She would make her own choice. And she chose to follow this music…this music that enticed her on. She heard a woman’s laugh beside her—a dark laugh filled with malice—but she saw no one, and she did not think about it again.
The music led her onward and upward. She climbed steps without knowing where they were leading her, and she felt no fatigue at all. Finally, at the top, she saw a single door and pushed it open, revealing a bedchamber.
“This was where I was imprisoned,” she whispered, the voice not even sounding like her own.
Imprisoned? Lia shook her head, confused. She was a modern young woman! She’d never been…
Keep walking, another voice echoed in her head. Go to the window. It is your fate to fly.
Camellia saw the window and did not think to wonder why it was not shuttered on such a cold and windy night. Indeed, she scarcely felt the weather, and walked in a dream toward the wide window, staring at the dark sky beyond. She did not know if it was stars or snowflakes that glittered so, but the sight was so alluring that she wanted to get closer to it. She wanted to reach out and grab those stars—or snowflakes—to take them for her own.
But an unnatural heaviness kept her steps slow, as if her feet were dragging through mud. The dreamy part of Camellia’s mind urged her on. She heard music in the wind around her, a singing, though the words meant nothing to her, as if it were another language altogether.
