“I was foolish. My scrying ability was still new, and I was so confident. So sure of its power. The Lady came to me easily in those first days. She filled me with her knowledge and her purpose. My parents warned me to be careful, especially my mother. She was the Windsor Scryer before me, but my ability quickly surpassed hers. It frightened her. She told me not to use my power, to wait until an Elder could properly train me. I didn’t listen. I thought she was jealous of my power.”
She winced as if that memory pained her most. “She was trying to protect me,” she said at last, “but I was too ignorant to know it. So, I scried in secret. In the woods. That’s where he tricked me. If only my mother hadn’t followed me that day—” She broke off, squeezed her eyes closed, and pressed a knuckle to her lips.
I waited as patiently as I could until she continued.
“If she’d let him take me, perhaps that would have saved her. But she broke his binding—powerful though it was—before he claimed me. She was strong enough to do that, but it took everything she had to force him back to his world. He must have found another way. I should have known it that day on the Slopes. I felt him, I just didn’t want to admit it.”
My memory shot back to that moment with her on the path. That’s what had happened. Those red eyes, those smoky tendrils. I had felt him invading me. Wrenching me apart from the inside, claiming me.
“Is that what he was trying to do to me? Possess me as the Lady possesses you? Is that what he wants to do to the Queen?”
“Whatever he wants, he will take it and keep taking it. He could take this entire empire, if he chose.”
I thought of the dead girl on the Slopes. “The village girl?”
“I believe so.”
I sat still, too stunned to speak. Too stunned to move.
She straightened again, as if filled with new purpose. “But why did you go to Fayte Hall? Did you know he would be there?”
I looked away. I had never told her of my dragonfly, and I wasn’t sure I should now, but there had already been too many secrets. “A dragonfly told me to go.”
The look that came over Mrs. Crossey was something more than surprise. She tilted her head to the side as though considering my words carefully. “A dragonfly told you to go?”
I nodded. “I know it sounds silly, but—”
She raised her palm to stop me. “A dragonfly speaks to you?”
“In a way. She comes to me when I’m outdoors.”
Mrs. Crossey’s eyes widened. “This wasn’t the first time?”
“She visits often. She always has.”
“Always?”
I nodded, suddenly sheepish.
“Since Chadwick Hollow?” she asked.
I nodded again.
“When was the first time?”
“I can’t remember exactly. I’ve never told anyone about her before.” I thought of Lucas. He had guessed it, but that wasn’t the same. Was it? “She was my secret. One of them…”
“I see,” she said in the way Headmistress Trindle used to when I would explain that I preferred to read in the library instead of playing with the other girls. Or when I would rise before dawn to walk among the trees in the early morning light.
“What does she say to you?” she asked.
“She doesn’t speak exactly, but I understand her.” At least I thought I did.
“Has she told you to do other things?”
I pinched the bed covers beneath my fingers. “No. That’s what was odd about it. She’s never told me to do anything before. She’s only… She’s just… She just visits me, I guess.”
She mulled my words then said, “I cannot pretend to understand this dragonfly of yours, but it seems she helped you discover Edward Bailey’s scheme. For the moment, I think we must focus on that. When did you say the Queen would be attending the calliope’s performance?”
“This evening. After dinner, I believe.”
She touched her lips. Then nodded. “That isn’t much time, but it should be enough. The first thing you must do is speak to Mr. MacDougall.”
I shook my head.
Mrs. Crossey sighed. “I know you and Mr. MacDougall have not always—”
“It’s not that. He was in my vision. He’s involved. I saw him with Mr. Bailey. I’m sure they were conspiring.”
“That can’t be. The man is trying at times, but he is the Vice Councilor. He wouldn’t be involved in such a thing.”
“I can only say what I saw, and I most certainly saw him with Mr. Bailey.”
“I see,” she said. “I have worked with Mr. MacDougall a good many years, however, and I have never had reason to doubt his loyalty to the Fayte. The problem with visions is that what one thinks one is seeing is not always the truth of what one is seeing. I shall speak to Mr. MacDougall myself and sort it out. Please tell him I must speak with him.”
“When he asks why, what shall I tell him?” Because surely I couldn’t tell him the truth.
“Tell him my injuries have caused me to reconsider my position here in the castle and that I would like to discuss my resignation.”
The magnitude of that statement hit me like a boulder. “But you can’t leave.”
She patted the top of my glove. “It’s the only subject I am sure he will find too tempting to ignore. Now go. Before it’s too late.”
She was right. To put a stop to the performance, I couldn’t delay. I rose just as someone rapped on the door and slowly opened it.
A bespectacled gentleman with a small hook nose peered in. “I’ve come for your morning check, Mrs. Crossey. Is now a good time?”
“Yes, Dr. Holland,” she said. “Of course.” She angled her head toward me. “Go now, lass.”
I knew I had to leave, but I didn’t want to leave her side. As long as I was beside her, all would be well.
The physician came up behind me and cleared his throat. I
