Her father’s man Goran was waiting for her in the hall of the Domain. His huge, pudgy hands were folded in front of him. When he smiled she felt every patch of her exposed skin prickle: shoulders, face, the small of her back. That same smile used to curl Goran’s lips each time he discovered the twins’ latest hiding place.
“Welcome home, Miss Rechnov.” His voice was as soft as ever.
“It’s not home,” she said.
“Home is where the heart is, isn’t that the Old World saying?”
Goran held out a hand to take her cape. She repressed a shudder as his fingers folded around its velvet weight. He led her up the main staircase, past her grandfather’s rooms, and up again. She was struck anew by the richness and secretiveness of the Domain. It corridors were low-lit and full of real wood. They passed alcoves housing shell lanterns, doors with ebony handles, Afrikan sculptures, chandeliers, paintings from Veerdeland and Alaska.
There were hidden passages too, crawling under and over other rooms like a subterranean maze. It was a mysterious place. Once it had been a magical place, but the twins had promised one another they would never set foot in it again. Adelaide had not been back in six years. She would never have answered this invitation if Vikram had not been there when it arrived. You’re not scared of them are you?
Of course not, she’d said haughtily. She could have said that the relationship between herself and her family was more complicated than simple fear or estrangement. That it was tied up with a history and a hatred of lies; that the bad blood between herself and her father could not affect her love for her grandfather, but neither could that love compel her to reconciliation; that of all the Rechnov children her mother had always and only adored Axel, and the Incident had only hardened her further against the rest of them; that Adelaide did not quite understand herself the tenuous links she had forged with Linus, and that all of the above was now tempered with far more frightening suspicions: she could not have said with certainty that any one of them was incapable of removing Axel to preserve the family name. She could not say this to Vikram. He did not have a family. The only person who understood the Rechnovs as Adelaide did was Tyr, and she could not tell Vikram that either.
In a passing mirror she glimpsed her reflection: pale skin in an emerald dress. Goran stepped quietly ahead, the third eye on the back of his neck watching her all the way. Every instinct was telling her to run. I’m not afraid, she told herself. I can do this.
At the greeting room, Goran moved aside, then put a hand on Adelaide’s back and propelled her through the door. Her skin crawled.
“Miss Adelaide Rechnov,” he announced.
Conversation died away as they all turned to look at her. A satin clad lady raised an eyeglass to inspect Adelaide more closely, her wispy brows knitted as she peered through the silver disk. One by one they came up. Some Adelaide recognized from childhood events, others were new recruits to the Rechnov clan. Each guest extended their arm, presenting the inner wrist upward so that she could press her own against it. Her wrist tingled horribly.
“Delighted to meet you at last.”
“My, how you’ve changed!” The woman with the eyeglass had pale gums and a quavery voice. “I remember you as a little girl, playing the Steinway at Viviana’s birthday. Such a sweet child.”
“She’s divine, Viviana.” A man spoke over her head. “Really, quite exquisite.”
Her mother came forward, placed her hands on Adelaide’s shoulders and dabbed her lips to each cheek. Adelaide smelt her cloying lavender scent. Viviana’s eyes were searching. It felt as though her mother were running a flannel over her face, softly the first time, but gradually peeling away layer after layer of skin until she unwrapped the flesh beneath.
“Welcome home, Adelaide,” Viviana said finally. There was something formidable about the easy elegance of Viviana’s stature. Adelaide was aware that side by side, they made everyone else in the room look plain, but there was no pleasure in the knowledge.
“Where’s Grandfather?” she asked.
“I’m afraid that he is unwell.” Feodor joined the growing throng around mother and daughter. “And unable to join us tonight. Adelaide.”
He put a hand on her waist and steered her towards the windows. The familiarity of the action unnerved her. Both of her parents were treating the situation as though she had just returned from a week-long holistic retreat in the northern quarter. She felt sweat forming under her dress.
Viviana approached, carrying a stained-glass container, the shape of a lantern, with a steepled lid. She placed the pot in Feodor’s hands. He removed the lid and handed it back. They exchanged subtle, not-quite smiles. The room hushed.
Feodor took a pinch of salt from the pot. He drew a deep, slow breath, then he flicked his wrist and scattered the salt. It was quiet enough to hear the grains skitter against the glass.
“To the dead,” said Feodor.
“To the dead,” the guests intoned solemnly. A theatrical shiver ruffled the room.
It was the melodrama that Adelaide despised above all. The way that everyone present conspired in the act, dressing it up as philanthropy, as though they were above such fundamental fears as ghosts at the window. Then they turned away, huddled over their grape-crushed wines.
Adelaide went to stand where the salt had fallen. Vikram had thrown a pinch over her shoulder earlier, to give her luck. She had met his eyes across the salt tin. Brown eyes should be warm, but Vikram’s eyes were too complicated for pure warmth. They swirled with other things, with sadness, and responsibility. She’d had a fleeting urge to take his face in her hands and tell him he must not be so sad, he must not let Osiris work its deep, malicious magic.
Did the ghosts feel abandoned by the salt ritual? Did it hurt them to be thrust away into the night? The windows gave no answers, only her flimsy reflection.
“Adelaide. Enchanted. My name’s Ukko.”
It was the man who had called her exquisite. He gave her a glass of grape-wine and started to talk about next year’s Council elections. He was running for a seat in Resources. She could tell by his pitch, nasal and overly confident, that he expected to get it. She sipped at the wine. She remembered the taste, rich and mellow, but sweet too, overly sweet, and she found that she no longer cared for it.
On the other side of the room, Tyr was engaged in discussion with Dmitri. They had to be careful tonight, more than usually careful, especially with Linus present. Her brother was chatting to Zakiyya Sobek. Her parents networked. Feodor’s most expansive smile was in place. Every now and then she sensed his surveillance, but there was no sign of the telltale tic. In fact, her father seemed remarkably at ease.
A nasty idea seeded in Adelaide’s mind. Was it possible that the twins’ great escape might have been less of an escape than she had believed? The Rechnovs had foreseen this day. They had let her and Axel go, always assuming that they would have to come back.
Viviana clapped her hands.
“And now, dinner!”
The guests murmured their appreciation as they entered the banquet hall, footsteps ringing out on the chequered floor. Feodor and Viviana took their places at the head of the oval table. Each place was laid with a symmetrical display of crystal and cutlery. Adelaide’s grandfather should have been opposite, but in his absence Dmitri took that chair. His fiancee, a banker, sat next to him. A chair was pulled out for Adelaide. She sat, strangely aware of the air and space at her back, the nebulous movements of the servers. She found herself directly facing Tyr.
They had first met at a banquet like this, weeks before she left. They kissed behind a tapestry, giggling, each caught by surprise. She had run at Tyr like any other obstacle, unafraid of implication or of consequence.
When she met his eyes he looked away.
A hand reached from behind her to fill her weqa glass. As the server continued around the table, the man on Adelaide’s left turned to her. He had greying hair and a hooked, distinctive nose. It was the Councillor of Estates, a man Feodor was no doubt eager to court.
“Delighted to meet you, m’dear,” he said. “Such a close family, you Rechnovs. I’m sure Feodor is delighted to have you back.”
What had Feodor told people?
The man complimented Adelaide on her bone structure.
