Page 64 of A Treason of Thorns

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask flatly.

“There’s nothing wrong with him, Vi,” Papa says. “He’s from the foundling home in Taunton. Was left there three years ago. But they’re at their wits’ end with him, because he keeps running away, and then a well-meaning someone or other finds him and brings him back.”

I stare daggers at the boy. This is my House. There’s little enough of Mama and Papa to go around, and Burleigh especially belongs to me. I will brook no rival in its affections.

“Why’s he here?”

“To be company for you,” Papa answers, taking his riding gloves off, one after the other. “You know your mother always says you shouldn’t be alone so much. Well, here’s a friend. And he needed a home anyhow. It should work out well for everyone.”

I watch as Little Vi steps forward, not even bothering to hide the doubt that etches itself across her face. I can still remember that visceral sense of suspicion and mistrust the first time I saw Wyn. How quickly things changed between us, though.

“Boy,” Little Vi asks Wyn. “Do you speak?”

He nods.

“Are yougoingto speak?”

He shakes his head.

“Why not?”

Wyn shrugs.

“Are you afraid?”

Another nod.

Little Vi frowns at him for several moments.

“Why don’t you take it upon yourself to look after him?” Papa says at last. “Consider it practice, for looking after Burleigh someday.”

The girl I was brightens. How well Papa knew me—if I thought something would benefit the House, I always gave it my very best.

“What do you think, Burleigh?” Little Vi asks the air around us. “Is Papa’s idea a good one?”

A thunderclap sounds directly overhead, though it’s a clear day. Wyn’s eyes go wide as saucers.

“Do you like that?” Little Vi says, solicitous now she’s been assured Wyn’s presence is in the House’s best interest. “That’s just Burleigh. It can do lots more. I’ll show you.”

She reaches out a hand, but when Wyn flinches, draws back. “Don’t you want to be touched? I won’t, then. Not unless it’s alright.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and then finally holds out his own hand. I watch with a smile as Little Vi takes it in hers. “What’s your name, then?”

“Haelwyn,” Papa answers on his behalf. “Haelwyn of Taunton.”

“What about Wyn?” Little Vi asks the boy. “That’s easier, isn’t it?”

He nods vigorously, and she leads him off toward the House. “I’m Violet Sterling. Did you know I’m going to be Burleigh’s Caretaker someday? So I suppose it’s a good thing, if I can practice onyou. I think you maybe need a bath. And probably something to eat. We’ve got lots of rooms, and I’m sure they’ll give you one...” The voice grows fainter as Wyn and Little Vi go down the drive. “... but if you promise to keep it a secret, I’ll make you a bed in my cupboard. Only the House is very big, and it likes to remember, and it can be frightening at night if you’re not used to it.”

The very last thing I hear before the memory fades is my six-year-old self’s voice, speaking to Wyn.

“We’re probably better off if we stick together, you and I.”

After a moment of darkness, Wyn and I are alone in the corridor once more.

“Papa brought you home to be company for me,” I say a bit defiantly, because a dreadful possibility is dawning in my mind and I hate—I hate—even the barest hint of it.

“Come here,” Wyn says. He gets to his feet and crosses the hallway to the door that leads into my father’s bedroom. I haven’t been able to bring myself to enter that particular room of the House—not after seeing Burleigh’s memory of Papa dying. It’s been shut up since I got home, because I haven’t wanted to think about everything that happened inside.