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Rose
At eight-thirty, the party was going full speed ahead. Dozens of witching folk in trim suits and elegant dresses meandered through the manor’s front rooms, plucking up hors d’oeuvres that a couple of the kitchen staff were carrying around and drinking fine champagne and wine. The scents of thick and spicy sauces inspired by Egyptian cuisine drifted down the hall. In the great room where most of us had assembled, the trio of classical musicians I’d hired were keeping up a lively tune on their instruments.
“Quite a turn-out,” Philomena said at my side. “You’ve pulled off a dashing success.”
“Sure, if all I was trying to pull off was a happening party,” I said to her in my head. The more important part of the evening we had yet to reach. But despite the worries humming through my nerves, I was looking forward to getting it over with. Not least because of the guy at my other side.
Killian Sorensen had insisted on clamping one cool hand around my forearm about an hour ago, and he hadn’t let go since. I’d opted not to make any kind of scene, but my skin was crawling more with every passing minute. He smiled at me now—a bright but thin smile that brought a gleam to his eyes I couldn’t help seeing as predatory.
“Did you want some more wine?” he asked, leaning closer than he really needed to in order to be heard over the music and chatter.
I forced myself to smile back. “No, I think I’ll wait for dinner.” The truth was I’d poured most of my first glass into one of the potted plants when no one was looking. I needed a clear head tonight.
Killian didn’t look all that concerned by my refusal. Why should he? As far as he knew, I was a jilted young witch desperate for a consort, any consort.
Thank the Spark I’d only have to keep playing that role for another hour.
We took a turn around the room, greeting a few late arrivals to the party. I stopped by a small group of Dad’s colleagues I recognized from gatherings in Portland. I did still have some groundwork to continue laying.
“Rose!” one of the witches said. “You must be so proud of your father, my dear.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “It’s wonderful to see him getting the chance to relax and celebrate. Especially after the stress he’s been under lately with his work. He deserves a reward like this.”
Just as I’d seen in conversations like this earlier, every set of eyes abruptly focused more sharply on me at my comment about stress. No one had mentioned Celestine’s death so far, so I had to assume her “accident” had been kept as quiet as possible, but Dad’s colleagues must have at least known she’d left. Now I could add a new dimension to their thoughts.
“Has he been pursuing a new project that’s been giving him some difficulty?” the witch’s husband asked.
“I’m not even sure,” I said with a wave of my hand and a laugh—a laugh I let sound a tiny bit forced. “He’s been holed up in his rooms so much in the last couple weeks, so dedicated to whatever he’s doing. I’m sure having all this company will do him some good. But it’s been ages since I talked to you. How is your daughter doing in her new job?”
Just like that, I changed the subject—but I could see their gazes linger a little longer than usual, speculatively, when Dad entered the room. They wouldn’t say anything outright to him, of course. But I’d planted a few more seeds of doubt about his mental well-being.
That knowledge made me feel powerful and slimy all at once. I closed my eyes for a second, reminding myself of Gabriel’s comment about the fox in a snare. I was biting my way out the only way I knew how, to free myself and my consorts. My guys were here with me even if they couldn’t be in the manor.
A bell rang to summon us for dinner. My pulse kicked up a notch. “Tell me more about your research into traditional wand-making,” I said to Killian as we moved toward the hall, to distract myself from my nerves—and to set the stage even more. “I’ve been even more curious about how methods have changed since seeing that artifact my dad brought back from Cairo. Are there a lot of differences across witching communities in different cultures?”
Killian started rambling on about the contrast between Eastern and Western magical tools, and I watched the party-goers around us. In the dining room, everything was laid out as I’d placed it before the party. The wand case sat in front of Dad’s chair. I took my seat at his right, Killian finally letting go of my arm. My heart thumped even harder as Dad settled into his chair. His eyes flickered toward the wand case, pulled away, and flickered back again.
My magic was working, drawing him in.
Our guests gathered all around the huge table. The servers swept around them, setting down plates of the appetizer. The tart and savory smell made my mouth water even though my stomach was too twisted up for me to look forward to eating.
Well, I wasn’t going to be doing much eating tonight anyway. It was kind of a shame, all that good food that was going to go to waste.
I almost laughed—possibly hysterically—at that thought. My fingers clenched together in my lap. Then I made myself tap Dad’s elbow.
I’d done everything I could to prepare. It was time to see this plan through.
“You should give a little speech,” I said. “Now that we’ve got everyone in the same room. A toast or whatever.”
“Of course,” Dad said, patting my hand. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
He stood up, and the chatter around the table quieted. Everyone looked to him.
“Friends and colleagues,” Dad said. “I’m honored to have you here today, and to have orchestrated the deal we’re all celebrating, which will bring even more security and prosperity into our community. I have to of course give thanks to my two long-time associates who helped broker that deal…”
As he went on giving credit where due and telling a couple of amusing stories about the trip to Cairo to make his audience laugh, I curled my fingers in a quick form under the table. A tiny jolt of magic to fully activate the energy with which I’d imbued the wand. I didn’t even look at the case, just kept my gaze on Dad with an encouraging smile, as if I had no idea what was coming.
The servers brought another set of plates out, and Dad reached for the wand’s case. “It’s also my pleasure,” he said, an eager glint lighting in his eyes, “to share with you an artifact I brought back from my travels there. I’ve never seen anything quite like this rare piece before. It cost me a small fortune to obtain it, but well worth it to own an ancient part of our history.”
