Page 107 of Ashborne Forged

I made myself smile. “Hello, Mrs. Voss.” She was the housekeeper, and had always been my favorite, because she was kind, and didn’t enjoy the pain of others. She was simply pragmatic enough to overlook the cruelty of her masters.

“A ghost! A ghost!” she shrieked. “Dear God!” she gasped, clutching her ample chest and staggering back.

I sighed as the pounding of servants’ feet echoed through the marble hall beyond the door, footmen, maids, even two of the messenger boys, darting into the wide entry to see what could strip Mrs. Voss of her usual aplomb. One of the men, a senior footman whose name escaped me, slid to a halt, eyes and mouth wide with shock. I nodded once, then turned to stare a warning at the men who’d been hired since I left, and wouldn’t recognize me.

They crowded closer, one of them pulling Mrs. Voss aside. I let my jaw roll, but kept my hands in my pockets. I had a blade in each sleeve, and another at my back if I needed it. I remained casual in my stance as they attempted to ascertain what had the usually unflappable woman, so flustered.

Voices rose and echoed as more staff arrived to see the disturbance.

“What on earth is going on? Are we staffed by elephants?! What is that infernal shrieking?”

They all whirled, the footmen leaping to formal attention, the maids hurrying to line up before the owner of the voice appeared a moment later in the grand arch under the stairs.

The spider, emerging from her web.

My heart pounded so hard, it ached. But I didn’t move quickly. Only tipped my head and waited for her to see me.

The mistress of the House of Ashford stormed into the lobby, still in her dinner dress, though her cheeks were pink, so she’d likely been at the wine after the meal. She swept into the space, and all light seemed to dim in her presence.

I’d always mused that one day, if she grew furious enough, her shadow would swallow the sun.

As she stormed toward me, I vaguely registered that her beautifully dressed, brunette hair was now scattered with gray, and the lines around her mouth and eyes had deepened. But there wasn’t time for anything else as the men parted before her and she swept through, her face twisted into an ugly snarl. She scowled at Mrs. Voss, who held the arms of one of the footmen and fanned herself, still crying out with shock.

“Dear lord, what a racket! What has you so—”

I cleared my throat and she jerked to me, her features untwisting in the blink of an eye.

Unmoving, she stared. Her face blank. If her hands hadn’t frozen in position, primed to grab Mrs. Voss, I might have believed she didn’t recognize me. Or perhaps, didn’t care. It was a relief to see that she wasn’t untouched.

Her eyes widened, just slightly, as I offered an elegant bow, in the precise form I’d been taught since I was old enough to walk.

“Hello, Mother,” I said. And my tone cracked with the same cold as the ice when the lake froze over. “How wonderful to see you.”

35. Vane

SOUNDTRACK: Fear by Nathan Wagner

~ VOSKI ~

“Vane?” Mother said faintly. “Vane?!” She blinked once, and her gaze cleared. “It’s a miracle!” she gasped.

Mrs. Voss shrieked again, falling backward. One of the footmen caught her as my mother pushed past the heavy woman to pull me into an embrace.

I almost rolled my eyes. My skin crawled when I felt her claws on my back. But thankfully, her clasp was so brief, I doubted the servants noticed I didn’t hug her back.

“Vane? Vane, is it really true?”

I managed to smile, only because my mother was obsessed with bloodlines, and family names. I hadn’t heard that moniker from anyone in the past seven years, except strangers who believed I was something beneath them.

A stablehand.

A guard.

A prostitute.

For years, whenever Shadowfang duties took me to dank corners, or low status among the highborn, I used the name that deserved to be trod underfoot.

I’d always prayed that somehow God would bring her the tale of the stableman, or the toy, who shared her son’s name.