Promises to Keep

infant. I want to know what is going on here, and why, and I want to know what you did to me, and I want to know when you’re going to put things back the way they were.”

There. She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him. A true lady knew how to look down at anyone, even a man a foot taller.

He stared at her with no little surprise. She prepared herself for him to try to dismiss her questions again, as if coddling her could make her ignore everything going on around them, but he didn’t. He spoke carefully, obviously struggling to get the words out past his own emotions.

“I don’t fully understand what power made you human,” the witch said, “and I don’t know how to undo it. Something is happening right now that is causing power and magic to change. A lot of people are in trouble.”

“That is a great many unknowns,” she responded. “What is happening right now?”

The witch flinched, his gaze averting. Even Brina could recognize guilt when she saw it so blatantly displayed. He blamed himself for what was going on. Was he right?

“Shapeshifters and witches are sick,” Brina said, trying to start the story for him. “Did you do a spell?”

“No!” he shouted, the protest echoing through the hall. “No,” he repeated. “I just wanted to help someone. I—” His voice quieted, until in a wavering whisper he asked, “What do you know about your, um, housemaid? Who she used to be?”

Was he trying to distract her? No. He was too serious.

“She was a witch and a shapeshifter,” Brina answered. “I never saw any evidence of special power, though she must have some. Only the magic-users can live so long.” She frowned. “She caused this plague?”

“Yes—no, not directly, I guess, but—” He shook his head, and admitted, “I don’t understand elementals.”

You gave me time. So I will give you time. Brina had thought those words had been a product of the drugs, but now she understood them. If Daryl had not taken command of Pet when he had, the once-sakkri would have died when Midnight had burned. Instead, Daryl had hidden her, intending to present her to Brina as a surprise that night. As a result, she was one of the only slaves who had survived the slaughter.

“Rikai said the Shantel elemental should be weak, but she was wrong, so wrong,” Jay said, the words falling out of his mouth now like a boy at confession. “Whatever I did trying to help the shapeshifter made the Shantel elemental able to attack Leona. And that is making people sick. And I don’t know what to do.”

The last words were a pathetic whisper. A plea.

Brina’s first instinct was to step back. No one had ever looked at her like that, desperately seeking an answer they both knew probably didn’t exist. Ever since childhood, people had treated her as something that needed to be sheltered and indulged. Now this witch looked as if he would like to drop the weight of the world on her shoulders, if only it would help get some of the weight off his own.

“So.” She didn’t know what to do. Fine. She would do what she always did—pretend. Stand straight. Look proud. Speak confidently. “We need to fix this.”

“It’s not as easy as just wanting it done,” he snapped. “The problem involves powers way beyond either of us. Elementals, battling.”

Her arm flew of its own accord, responding to the shrill, panicked tone in his voice. After the sharp crack made by her palm against his cheek, he stared at her with obvious shock.

Now calm, and staring directly into her eyes, he said in a flat voice, “You are not allowed to hit me.”

“Your actions may have triggered the destruction of your world,” she replied. “Which, incidentally, is also my world. I will refrain from hitting you if you will refrain from self-indulgent pity and defeatism. Now, how do we find the fighting elementals?” she asked.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” he asked.

“I’ve heard you say it’s hard,” she retorted. “And I gather you would rather give up and trust your fate—as well as mine, and however many others’—to the winds of chance. Perhaps you have no chivalry or courage. If that’s the case, tell me what you know, and I will do what I can. I will not be imprisoned in another house.”

She would not wait this time and let fate choose whether she would live or die. Daryl was gone, and this witch needed to be saved.

It was up to her.

“Brina,” Jay said hopelessly, “I want to help, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where to begin. People I love are sick. My brother is sick, do you understand that? And I know it’s my fault, but Rikai has already walked out on me, and I barely know anything about elementals or the Shantel.”

Giving into instinct, she pulled him close, her holding him this time. His hair was softer than she had expected. She started to contemplate what colors she would need to re-create its silky shades and highlights, and then her mind reeled back in.

“I know about the Shantel,” she said. Her stomach grumbled in a most unladylike way, making her blush and realize that she was hugging this man while wearing nothing but her shift. “I would appreciate it if you could assist me in dressing. Then we can share what knowledge we have. That is a good place to begin.”

The witch nodded. She shied back from the light of gratitude in his eyes, and tried to conceal the uncomfortable moment as she returned to her room and gathered up the gown she had removed earlier. She pulled it over her head and settled the skirt into place, by which time the witch had come up behind her.

“This seems pretty tight,” he said as he started to fasten the two dozen mother-of-pearl buttons that ran down the back of the dress. “Warn me if you have trouble breathing.”

She nodded.

“Though I never met her before she was Pet, I knew of the sakkri,” Brina said as Jay worked. He was right that the dress was snug, but she seemed to be able to draw enough air to sustain herself and continue speaking. “The Shantel did not like visitors, and attempting to trespass on their land was problematic, but they allowed us to pass through in exchange for certain trade agreements. It was an acceptable arrangement.”

“Do you know much about how their magic works?” Jay asked.

She chewed her lip and considered. “The heart of their active magic is illusion,” she said. “If you walk in the Shantel woods, they seem to change around you. Shantel hunters know exactly where you are, but you never see them until they wish it. No matter what compass you use, you end up where the magic wants you, whether that means outside their territory or at the Family Courtyard, which is what they call their palace.”

“If Shantel magic is so strong,” Jay asked as Brina began to finger-comb her hair into some semblance of presentable, “how did Midnight get its hands on the sakkri?”

The accusation in his tone was sharp enough to cut, but she raised her gaze, unflinching. “The same way all shapeshifters came to us. She was sold by her own kind. Humans used to send their criminals to Australia, or the Americas. Under Midnight, the shapeshifter nations used us for the same purpose. I do not know what crime a sakkri could perform that would merit such a punishment, but I assure you it was her people who made the choice—not mine.”

Brina couldn’t deny the many atrocities intrinsic to Midnight; they were why she had rarely gone to the main building unless she had needed to. The trainers were vicious animals whose only instinct was to destroy, and Mistress Jeshickah herself had the emotional depth of a jackal. But Midnight was the only game in town, and everyone played by its rules.

At least the Shantel elemental had one thing right: Mistress Jeshickah and her trainers were not the only ones responsible for everything the Shantel had suffered.

CHAPTER 20