Illusions of Fate
Page 56
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Finn, I . . .”
He looks down the sidewalk. His face is once again composed and carelessly handsome. “This isn’t our concern right now. It will keep. I can’t be focused on it when other things hang in the balance. I never found the information I sought, but I find enough else to trouble me.”
Before he can resume walking, I circle his waist with my arms and pull him close, nuzzling my face into his neck. Here I was, bemoaning my fate for being drawn into a conflict for a country I don’t love. Finn has given up something deeply personal and tragic to protect others. He’s noble in the sense of the word that matters. “I am so sorry.”
His back muscles loosen, and he pushes his face against my hair, breathing deeply. “Thank you.”
A woman passing us clears her throat and whistles approvingly. Sharing a small, sad smile, we resume walking, nearly to the school grounds.
“She would have loved you,” Finn says. “They both would have.”
“I wish I could have met them. And I’m sorry you have to meet my father.”
We enter the building, the smell of ancient wood and dust and leather making me homesick for my cozy library carrel.
Outside Professor Miller’s office door, Finn taps his cane against the frame.
“Yes, yes, sorry, I am nearly done, just a moment, I have it right here for you, Lord—” The door opens, and my father’s squinted and puffy eyes open wider in surprise. “Oh. Hello.”
“Lord who?”
Professor Miller wipes his forehead nervously, a sheath of papers clutched to his chest. “What?”
“Which lord were you expecting?” Finn snatches the papers. I remember how his assertive airs used to infuriate me, but today I am grateful for how they cow my father. “This is another of your articles extolling the benefits of imposing Albion on the continent. Who are you giving it to?”
“I . . . we haven’t been introduced. Jessamin?”
Finn walks forward, forcing my father to stumble back into his office. Without asking, he crosses to the other side of the desk and begins opening drawers, looking through them. “I have no desire to be introduced to you. You don’t deserve your daughter, and I won’t do you the courtesy of pretending to be polite.”
Professor Miller stutters. “That’s private. You can’t be in here.”
Finn pulls on a drawer, but it won’t budge. He taps it with his cane, muttering a single word, and it pops open.
“Hey! How . . . you can’t, and I . . . I’m calling for the guards.” I let him walk past me. I don’t care enough to stop him.
“Interesting.” Finn pulls out a small pistol and lays it on the desk. “And more interesting.” In his hands is a bundled stack of envelopes. He pulls off the top one and hands it to me. In the corner, where a return address goes, is stamped: THE OFFICE OF HIS LORDSHIP, THE MINISTER OF DEFENSE.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
Finn looks exhausted. “It means we know who is commissioning those news articles from your father trying to sway public opinion and make them view expansion in a positive light.” He puts the gun back in the drawer and closes it.
I feel it settle into place in my head. The attempts to win public opinion via positive examples. The criticism of other countries. The delicate balance that exists between Albion and the Iverian continental countries to prevent any one country from becoming more powerful than the rest.
The balance that hinges on both sides having their own magic.
“He wants to invade,” I say.
“And all he needs to ensure victory is access to Hallin magic.”
Thirty
I WATCH THE DOOR IN FEAR. “WE NEED TO LEAVE.”
“I want to speak with Professor Miller,” Finn says. He’s still searching through the letters.
“He’s expecting a lord. Lord Downpike. Do you want to face him here?” I hate that I’m scared, but I am. It’s one thing for Finn to face Downpike on equal ground, but if I’m here, I give Downpike an automatic advantage. Finn will try to protect me over anything else.
Finn tucks the letters into the jacket of his three-piece suit, and we hurry into the hall.
“Hey!” Professor Miller shouts from where he’s turned the corner in a shuffling, unsure run toward us. “Stop! The guards are coming! Stay where you are.”
“Never mind that.” I tug Finn’s arm. We turn back around but then stop dead. Lord Downpike stands in the center of the hall. He looks from us to my father, a smile creeping across his features.
Finn raises his cane defensively.
“By all means, don’t let me hinder your flight.” Lord Downpike bows and sweeps an arm out to let us by.
I look at Finn, confused. His eyes are narrow, posture wary, but he walks ahead, keeping himself as a shield to me the whole time. When we come to the doors, I burst through and we hit the sidewalk at a run, passing through the gawking crowds, my breath catching painfully in my chest by the time we reach the portal back to Finn’s house.
“What happened?” I gasp, leaning against the wall in Finn’s dim hallway. “Why did he let us go like that?”
“I don’t know.”
I sit down on the floor, my skirts pooled beneath me. “Lord Downpike can’t really think a few newspaper articles will help his cause. No one would agree to trying to colonize the entire Iverian continent. Or even a single country like Gallen or Saxxone. It would mean war for certain.”
He looks down the sidewalk. His face is once again composed and carelessly handsome. “This isn’t our concern right now. It will keep. I can’t be focused on it when other things hang in the balance. I never found the information I sought, but I find enough else to trouble me.”
Before he can resume walking, I circle his waist with my arms and pull him close, nuzzling my face into his neck. Here I was, bemoaning my fate for being drawn into a conflict for a country I don’t love. Finn has given up something deeply personal and tragic to protect others. He’s noble in the sense of the word that matters. “I am so sorry.”
His back muscles loosen, and he pushes his face against my hair, breathing deeply. “Thank you.”
A woman passing us clears her throat and whistles approvingly. Sharing a small, sad smile, we resume walking, nearly to the school grounds.
“She would have loved you,” Finn says. “They both would have.”
“I wish I could have met them. And I’m sorry you have to meet my father.”
We enter the building, the smell of ancient wood and dust and leather making me homesick for my cozy library carrel.
Outside Professor Miller’s office door, Finn taps his cane against the frame.
“Yes, yes, sorry, I am nearly done, just a moment, I have it right here for you, Lord—” The door opens, and my father’s squinted and puffy eyes open wider in surprise. “Oh. Hello.”
“Lord who?”
Professor Miller wipes his forehead nervously, a sheath of papers clutched to his chest. “What?”
“Which lord were you expecting?” Finn snatches the papers. I remember how his assertive airs used to infuriate me, but today I am grateful for how they cow my father. “This is another of your articles extolling the benefits of imposing Albion on the continent. Who are you giving it to?”
“I . . . we haven’t been introduced. Jessamin?”
Finn walks forward, forcing my father to stumble back into his office. Without asking, he crosses to the other side of the desk and begins opening drawers, looking through them. “I have no desire to be introduced to you. You don’t deserve your daughter, and I won’t do you the courtesy of pretending to be polite.”
Professor Miller stutters. “That’s private. You can’t be in here.”
Finn pulls on a drawer, but it won’t budge. He taps it with his cane, muttering a single word, and it pops open.
“Hey! How . . . you can’t, and I . . . I’m calling for the guards.” I let him walk past me. I don’t care enough to stop him.
“Interesting.” Finn pulls out a small pistol and lays it on the desk. “And more interesting.” In his hands is a bundled stack of envelopes. He pulls off the top one and hands it to me. In the corner, where a return address goes, is stamped: THE OFFICE OF HIS LORDSHIP, THE MINISTER OF DEFENSE.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
Finn looks exhausted. “It means we know who is commissioning those news articles from your father trying to sway public opinion and make them view expansion in a positive light.” He puts the gun back in the drawer and closes it.
I feel it settle into place in my head. The attempts to win public opinion via positive examples. The criticism of other countries. The delicate balance that exists between Albion and the Iverian continental countries to prevent any one country from becoming more powerful than the rest.
The balance that hinges on both sides having their own magic.
“He wants to invade,” I say.
“And all he needs to ensure victory is access to Hallin magic.”
Thirty
I WATCH THE DOOR IN FEAR. “WE NEED TO LEAVE.”
“I want to speak with Professor Miller,” Finn says. He’s still searching through the letters.
“He’s expecting a lord. Lord Downpike. Do you want to face him here?” I hate that I’m scared, but I am. It’s one thing for Finn to face Downpike on equal ground, but if I’m here, I give Downpike an automatic advantage. Finn will try to protect me over anything else.
Finn tucks the letters into the jacket of his three-piece suit, and we hurry into the hall.
“Hey!” Professor Miller shouts from where he’s turned the corner in a shuffling, unsure run toward us. “Stop! The guards are coming! Stay where you are.”
“Never mind that.” I tug Finn’s arm. We turn back around but then stop dead. Lord Downpike stands in the center of the hall. He looks from us to my father, a smile creeping across his features.
Finn raises his cane defensively.
“By all means, don’t let me hinder your flight.” Lord Downpike bows and sweeps an arm out to let us by.
I look at Finn, confused. His eyes are narrow, posture wary, but he walks ahead, keeping himself as a shield to me the whole time. When we come to the doors, I burst through and we hit the sidewalk at a run, passing through the gawking crowds, my breath catching painfully in my chest by the time we reach the portal back to Finn’s house.
“What happened?” I gasp, leaning against the wall in Finn’s dim hallway. “Why did he let us go like that?”
“I don’t know.”
I sit down on the floor, my skirts pooled beneath me. “Lord Downpike can’t really think a few newspaper articles will help his cause. No one would agree to trying to colonize the entire Iverian continent. Or even a single country like Gallen or Saxxone. It would mean war for certain.”
