The hall wasn’t very crowded but she spotted her two remaining sisters, Sigfrid and Ingrid, in the back row whispering to one another. They were middle children, Sigfrid at twenty and Ingrid at seventeen respectively, followed by two younger brothers Becka had first met while sitting at the family table. Ingrid was just eleven when Becka had been outcast, and the younger boys had been born after her departure. Her sisters were both shorter than her, but perhaps Ingrid would still catch up.
The sisters cast anxious frowns at each other at Becka’s approach but didn’t move on.
“You both look well,” Becka said. “I haven’t seen you since you, Sigfrid, were twelve and Ingrid, you were nine when I left.”
“I am pleased to find you well, sister,” Sigfrid replied, the stern angles of her face reminding her of Maura. “Although, I must admit your visage is a bit jarring, considering the occasion.”
“I humbly disagree, sister,” Ingrid replied. Her cheekbones were high like Maura’s, but her eyes and chin favored Vott’s softness. “It’s not the same experience for me. Becka is similar in feature to our dearest Tesse, it is true, and yet she’s quite different. The cadence of her walk, her bearing, even the way she fidgets with her fingers. She’s quite distinct.”
Then Sigfrid and Ingrid shared a look, as if realizing they’d spoken out loud.
Sigfrid frowned, “We mean no offense, Becka.”
“None taken. This is an unexpected situation for all of us. I don’t mind hearing about Tesse and our differences at all. We were so similar and yet so different. For instance, how did she wear her hair? Like mine?”
Becka’s hair was shorter, hanging just past her shoulders, a nod to city fashion. She knew how Tesse had styled her hair, but wanted to engage them further. This was a fact-finding mission, after all.
Ingrid shook her head. “No, she wore it ornately and very long, with layers of braids.”
The sisters turned and strolled deeper into the hall. Sigfrid motioned for her to follow.
Becka nodded. “Of course. That sounds exactly like her.” The sisters nodded, sad wan smiles paired with welling tears in their eyes. “I’d love to know more if you’re willing.” They nodded, so she pushed her luck. “What about anything wilder? Piercings, tattoos, hair color?”
Ingrid rolled her eyes, shaking her head in apparent disgust. “Those behaviors are an oddity of human and shifter cultures. No fae in this house would ever defile themselves.” Her eyes trailed over Becka’s ombre-dyed hair and ear piercings. “Begging you pardon, Becka.”
“No biggie.” She pushed on. “I’ve seen tattoos on some Oak, Hawthorne, and Elder folks. And I remember henna and paints being used here when I was younger. How’s a tattoo different?”
“Neither henna nor paints are permanent markings,” Sigfrid replied. “The Illusionists Guild takes an oath against such customs. The practices of other houses are not our concern.”
“Can you always tell the difference between illusory and ink tattoos?”
The sisters shared a wary look between them, and when they looked back at her, Becka could tell she’d pushed too far and lost the moment of openness between them. Had they, for a moment, forgotten they’d been speaking to an outcast?
“Have you seen this one?” Ingrid replied, holding her hand up to a floating ball of multi-colored tea roses. An effortless redirection on her part, to be sure. The orb transfixed Becka, the fragrance potent, the color shifting between peach and cream tones.
Becka read the inscription. Heart’s Fondness, by Tesse of the House of Mirrors. Her breath caught in her throat, a vice of sadness constricting around her chest.
“Step closer. There’s more,” Ingrid said.
Becka complied, and as she moved closer the rose petals rearranged themselves into the likeness of a face smiling back at her.
“It mirrors whoever approaches?”
“No,” Ingrid replied, dabbing tears from her cheeks. “It shows you the face of a loved one held close to your heart but not present.”
Becka couldn’t retrieve the handkerchief from her pocket quickly enough to capture the tears springing from her eyes. Wiping her cheeks, she appreciated the rose orb even as it tore at her heart.
“Not surprising,” Sigfrid muttered. “It could be responding to any of us right now.”
“Sorry, I thought you would enjoy seeing her work.” Ingrid smiled a sad smile.
“I do, thank you.”
Checking for Quinn, she spied him headed into an alcove along the back wall not far from them, his phone in hand. It must be important, otherwise, he’d never show the device in the open within the manor.
“If you don’t mind, I need a moment.”
Her sisters nodded and excused themselves, heading back towards the front of the hall.
Chapter 17
Shaking off the heaviness in her heart, Becka followed after Quinn, anxious to hear any updates on her sister’s case. Besides, she also wanted to share what she’d learned with him. The alcove he’d disappeared into looked private. It must be fairly deep, as she couldn’t see him while walking down the aisle. She dabbed her eyes and tucked the handkerchief into her waistband for quicker access next time. Along the way, she paused at each of the five pillars she passed so in case anyone was watching they’d think she was just continuing to peruse the exhibits.
When she reached the second to last pillar in the corner, she picked up on Quinn’s low, rumbling tones. Reaching the final pillar in the corner near the alcove, Becka picked out individual words when she paid enough attention. She paused and swept her gaze around the room. No one had followed her. No one was even nearby. She spied Maura and her sisters near the front of the hall, engaged in conversation with an older couple Becka didn’t recognize.
“An opportunity has arisen to speed up your timeline,” he said. His voice was hard. Firm. Emotionless. “Becka wants to leave tomorrow, but, not knowing if you were prepared, I encouraged her to
