“How will I know what happened?” he asked as Ariana pulled a cloth bag from a hidden pocket in her gown. She tipped out a small vial of powder, some dried leaves and a tiny, pearl handled knife.
“I’ll try and find a way to let you know something,” she said. She stopped messing with the items from the bag and stared blankly at the wall. “I— I might have to come back if… no, never mind that.”
“Yes, never mind that,” Dexter said quickly, before his already churning stomach could turn completely over. He wrapped her in a hug. Emma joined in, sniffling.
“Best stand back a bit,” Ariana suggested. “Pray there isn’t a tree growing here when I get back. Or that I don’t land on a gardener. Or… well. I’m sorry for upending your lives, but I’m awfully glad I got to see you again, Cousin Dexter. And it was a pleasure meeting you and Dahlia, Emma.”
Dexter couldn’t speak, only squeezed her tighter before he and Emma stepped away. They got about ten feet, but Ariana shooed them further. Her hands flew over the ground and as he backed up, his own hand in Emma’s vice-like grip, he saw her mouth moving. She whipped the tiny knife across the tip of her finger and glanced up at them, a tremulous smile on her face. He raised his hand to wave, but she was already gone.
Chapter 14
Owen finally recognized where he was in London. After a far too long journey— he’d really hoped his unruly powers might have helped them out a little in that respect— they’d finally reached Maria and Ariana’s area of the bustling, crowded town. He longed to find her and drag her back to Scotland with him and Maria. He was sick to death of crowds. He wanted to spread his arms wide and run in great circles with no fear of anyone seeing him, let alone accidentally whacking someone.
Maria stopped short in front of a shop, causing him to run into a snooty lady with a massive, feathered hat. Her hat tilted precariously as she gave him a dirty look while he apologized yet again for being in someone’s way. He was about to hustle Maria along when he noticed how wistfully she gazed at the books lined up in the brightly lit window.
“I do love to read,” she sighed.
It was the first he’d heard any hint of emotion in her voice the entire journey back to England. He figured she had put up her barrier to keep people from trying to speak to her on the ship, and indeed, everyone had shied away from them. But now she was back to being as chatty as she’d been when they first got booted out of the Povest village.
“Really?” he asked.
He couldn’t remember Maria ever mentioning a single book in all their endless conversations. She’d been enamored of the spell book, eager to learn that, but had never been ruthlessly hungry for knowledge in the annoying way that Ariana had. He was always glad of that because he hated reading. He was sure if she loved it the way Ariana did, she never would have fallen in love with him and might have thought of it as a shortcoming like his teachers always did.
She closed her eyes as if endlessly exhausted, which should have made sense since he never saw her sleep. However, she was only annoyed at his question. “Not her. Me.” She leaned close enough to the glass to leave a nose mark. “It’s been so long.”
Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out what was left of their money. It wasn’t much, but they were only blocks from Belmary House. A few blocks more from Maria’s home. They wouldn’t need an inn or money for food tonight. He felt himself relaxing all the way to his bones at the thought of seeing Ariana, his mother and father. He vowed to be honest from this point forward, tell them about his shameful expulsion from the family, and beg for help however they would give it. He understood more now about why his father hated magic so much, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his father did not hate him. Could never hate him or turn his back on him. Soon he’d have a grip on the reins of the runaway horse that was his magical heritage.
“Why not get yourself a book,” he suggested, holding out the coins.
She gave him such a look of joy he felt his face heat up and his heart felt similarly warm. He knew this wasn’t Maria, not really. But whoever or whatever was underneath had helped him so far, however clumsily. He wanted to keep that look of happiness there, instead of the faraway glistening stare.
“It will be everything we have left,” she said, never taking her eyes off the books.
“We’ll be at Ariana’s in a few minutes.”
She nodded. “Yes. Uncle Julian won’t let us go hungry.” He blinked at that and a mottled blush stole up her neck. For a heart-rending second he thought Maria might be back. When they had become secretly and giddily betrothed, perhaps she’d started to think of his family as her own. She turned to him and he knew in an instant it wasn’t true. “Lord Ashford,” she corrected herself with a shrug.
“Go ahead, then,” he said, trying not to sound bereft. “It’s clear you want to.”
Her hand shook as she took the money and he followed as she plowed her way through the shop, picking up each volume and studying it as if the choice were the most important thing in the world. Past the lofty, leather-bound tomes, all the way to the back wall, she finally stopped at a row of illustrated children’s books. She stared at them so long he started to doze
