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A loud noise from the main floor startled us from our conversation, and Mother gave me one final stern expression before we began our descent down the dreadful stairwell.
Mother stopped me from dashing down the steps in order to learn what had caused such a ruckus. Then I heard the shouts. I dropped my chin to my chest. She wanted me to behave like a proper lady. I slowed and held onto the banister tightly, hoping Jackson was taking care of whatever issue had been brought about.
After what felt like an age, we finally reached the main floor where wall-to-wall guests awaited our arrival. Many of which I’d never laid eyes upon in my life. I spotted Jackson’s dark-brown hair towering above the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief. A glass had been dropped, and apparently it was considered the height of rudeness by some of the snootier guests in attendance. I had to work hard to contain my eyeroll.
Mother kissed my forehead and went to greet our guests. I couldn’t say much about the memorial itself, as I was too focused on what was going on around me. Just as Jackson began to stroll in my direction, he was intercepted by an odd-looking redheaded woman wearing the strangest attire. It wasn’t exactly fitting for a memorial, as it was as red as her hair, much like an evening gown, with its bustle barely there, and her bosom on full display. I tried not to stare, but it took every bit of concentration I had. Something else was off, as well. Her eyes—they were purple, yet one was mechanical, and it zoomed in and out, focusing on me while she conversed with Jackson.
Startled, I took a step back, and stumbled into a member of our wait staff, Marlene, nearly knocking an entire platter of hors d’ouevres to the marble floor. I opened my mouth to apologize, but nothing would come out. I couldn’t utter a single syllable. What was wrong with me?
Jackson finally met my gaze from across the room and waded through the sea of guests, leaving the strange woman behind. However, the redhead never took her mechanical eye off of me. Who in the blue skies was she? Something was happening inside of my body: a strange heat had begun to form, and I had no idea how to explain it. I felt a frisson of fear lance down my spine as white-hot pain shot to my abdomen and straight through to my fingertips. Jackson reached me just as I let out a strangled whimper. I cradled my hands and shook my head.
All the while, Marlene had stood there, wide-eyed. She finally took her leave as Jackson embraced me.
“Ains, are you all right? What’s going on?” He pulled away, searching my face and glancing over my shaking limbs.
Again, I couldn’t answer. All I could see was the purple mechanical eye staring at me menacingly. Why? I had no idea.
I tried again. “Who?” That was all I could manage, and just as before, my midsection felt as though it were alight with flames. My fingertips tingled once again. Was I ill from grief?
“I’m getting the duchess. You are not well.” He grasped my shoulders and steered me toward the stairs, while nosy guests watched my every move. “Stay here until I return.”
All I could do was nod. I was mute. As soon as Jackson left my side, however, the peculiar redhead made her way toward me. My entire body began to tremble. I’d never felt like this in my life.
“Ainsley, darling, how nice to finally make your acquaintance,” the redhead purred, leaning down so we were eye level. Holy crap. The left side of her face appeared to be made of some sort of blue- and green-colored metal as well. I’d never in my life seen a human—or whatever she was—like this. “I am dreadfully sorry to hear of the passing of the duke. Did he mention Silverthorne, by chance?” She smiled wickedly.
I abruptly jumped to my feet and found my voice. “What did you say, and who the hell are you?”
“Oh, forgive me. I am Gretta. Let’s just say, an old friend of your father’s.” She reached out to shake my hand, and when her skin touched mine, the heat I’d been feeling turned into an inferno.
Near breathless, I yanked my hand away. “Excuse me if I refuse to believe you, Gretta. I…” Pain ripped through me, and I saw stars. I turned away from her robotic-like gaze and reached for the banister to hold myself upright. “Leave me…” I ground out through clenched teeth, and my voice did not sound like my own. Where the heck was Jackson?
Bright-white flames began to lick at my fingertips, yet they did not burn my flesh. I gasped and curled my hands into fists, just as Mother and Jackson headed my way. I turned and fled for the washroom, completely terrified. And I could hear Gretta’s ominous laughter echoing behind me.
How had I produced flames from my hands? Had it been a fit of nerves? Had I been hallucinating? No one could produce flames from their hands. I shook my head hard, speaking that truth over and over.
Then again, that wasn’t entirely true, was it? I’d heard of magic casters—shunned by royalty and proper society. They were legends, hidden away, keeping their so-called talents to themselves. Gretta had something inside of her, something that caused my body to react the way it had. Perhaps she was one of them.
But it hadn’t been Gretta who’d created flames from nowhere—no, that had been me.
I wrapped my arms around my middle, quickly running toward the washroom while the world slowed around me. No, that couldn’t be it. She’d done something to me. After all, no one I knew of had a drop of magical blood in their line.
I lifted my hand to my face, and a spark of light flashed across my skin as if it were an aftershock of some sort. I crashed through the door, falling to my hands and knees.
What was happening to me?
