Page 11 of A Spell of Heart & Havoc

But the most interesting part was their talk of newfound talents, protection, and dangerous gifts. What I would’ve given to have seen what Dove handed her mother! It must have been relatively small, for her to conceal it in her skirts.

My first thought was a painting; these people were mad for art. If Dove was a prodigy, they could be selling her works for gold or trading it for other pieces to add to their vast collection. That didn’t quite work—why would they need to keep her identity a secret? Didn’t the worth of artworks increase depending on the artist’s reputation? But still, it was a possibility.

Another answer could be that it was something magic-related. Maybe perfect Dove had some perfect power that allowed her to spin gold from straw or some such absurdity. Or could she be stealing from other rich folks, on social visits or through her maid? I’d have to keep a close eye on wherever she went on visits to the city or other manors in the countryside. Thankfully, that should prove doable, after Lady Wistrallo’s mandate tonight. Where Dove went, I went. From here on out, we were stuck together.

Goddess, help me, I thought, rolling my eyes as I leaned against the cold wall.

Whatever this family’s secret was, a few things were very clear now. First, Zephyra’s hunch that their suddenly revived flow of gold was something other than a dead relative’s inheritance seemed correct. Second, it was something so coveted that Lady and Lord Wistrallo felt it required serious protection from the outside world, in the form of me, an apparently ruthless and masterful bodyguard.

And third, Dove was at the heart of it all. She had a secret—a big one. I wasn’t going to stop until I figured it out. Once I did, I’d use it. Gleefully.

I needed coin more desperately than someone like her could ever understand. My little brother counted on me, and I wouldn’t fail him.

This spoiled princess was going down.

As Dove moved toward the door, I shrank back into the dusty folds of the tapestry. She looked tired, weariness dulling the bright force that she’d radiated before. From the encounter with her mother, or from something else?

Once she was a safe distance down the hall, I followed, brushing cobwebs from my clothes and trailing silently behind as she returned to her rooms. After she’d disappeared inside, I made my way into my own bedroom and closed the door silently behind me.

An hour later, I heard Dove’s door open down the hall. Jumping up, I patted the knives strapped to my body, checking them instinctively, and strode out after her.

“Ah. You again.” She turned, sighing. She’d changed her outfit since I saw her last and now wore a trailing gown of the deepest garnet. Still silky, still clinging lusciously to every curve. Gold glinted among her thick curls and around her neck, a chain dipping into deep cleavage. Was she going to a family dinner or a fancy ball? Every hour I spent here, I discovered a new ludicrous thing about the way rich people lived.

“Still here,” I said.

“A pity.”

Dove razed me with her spiky glare. I paced closer, forcing myself to meet her eyes without scowling. You need her to trust you, I reminded myself. Maybe not like you—but trust you just enough that she won’t keep trying to sack you.

“Lady Dove,” I said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

She snapped, “We certainly did. You are a ball and chain on my foot that I would see removed.”

This brat.

I clung desperately to the feeling of calm I’d gathered over the past hour, when I’d planned what I should say to her. “Lady, I’m here to serve and protect you. It’s understandable if you prefer, ah, solitude. But surely we can find an arrangement that will fulfill my duties, appease your parents, and allow for your independence.”

“And what makes you think I give two figs about your duties?” Dove stepped closer, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. The hallway magelights glimmered over her smooth brown skin. “You know nothing about me. You care nothing for me. You are a stranger, and nothing but a nuisance in my life. I will allow your presence for now, since it seems I must, but listen to me well, Miss Kirim—I am not your friend, and I do not want you here.”

“My, what a shock. Here I thought we’d be the closest of chums,” I shot back dryly, then resisted the urge to clap a hand over my mouth.

Dove blinked.

After a moment, she sighed and said, “Let’s just get to dinner. I’m late. Mother will be cross.” With a slight smile that I didn’t trust, some of her combativeness slipped away. “Though I suppose I have you to blame for that now. Convenient.” With a final sniff she twirled away and continued down the hall, leaving me to hurry after her.

When we finally reached the dining room—another overly ostentatious space, this one filled with vintage mirrors of varying sizes and styles—Lady and Lord Wistrallo were already seated and had been waiting for some time, judging by their annoyed expressions and pointed looks at the massive grandmother clock in the corner.

“Good evening, Mother, Father.” Dove slid gracefully into her seat, and a servant jumped to pour her a glass of golden wine. “Apologies for my tardiness. Miss Kirim held me up, unfortunately.”

Her parents’ attention moved to me. Under their gazes, I stood up straighter and coughed. What was I supposed to do here? Stand and “guard” Dove while she ate? Go to the kitchens for my meal? Unsure, I settled for standing at the wall behind my charge’s chair, trying to look the part of an impassive and unrattled bodyguard.

“A good attempt, Dovey,” Lord Wistrallo said, motioning to the servant to serve their first course. “But your struggles with punctuality far preceded Miss Kirim’s arrival.”

Lady Wistrallo turned her attention back to her daughter as the soup was served. Sighing, she said, “Darling, that gown is hardly appropriate for dinner. A bit ridiculous. You should have saved it for the Tongs’ revel this weekend.”

In front of me, Dove’s shoulders hitched slightly. She took a slow sip of soup before answering.

“You know as well as I do that we won’t be invited, Mother. We haven’t heard from the Tongs in over a year.”