Anxiety churned in her gut, warring with brazen curiosity flaring through her mind as she snuck close to the edge of the alcove, hidden from his view. She’d heard this tone of voice from Quinn once before. The night she’d overheard him on the balcony…
An angry whisper buzzed, echoing in the small alcove, like a thousand buzzing wasps. Becka stilled her breath. Could this be Chief Elowen? Or the person he’d spoken to on the balcony the other night?
“Then you will have to disclose a delivery location. I cannot deliver her if I do not know where I am going.”
Definitely not his boss. Another pause. More buzzing.
“As I have said before, there are hints she is more than an ungifted, but nothing certain. I called in a tester in the hopes they might lead to some answers. I understand your concerns, but I cannot call them off now.”
Becka couldn’t stop the questions from flooding her mind. What did Quinn think was happening with her? What did more than ungifted mean? And why would whoever was on the phone not want a tester to check if she’d been cursed? What were they afraid of finding?
“The events I shared with you were witnessed. I was not the only one asking to have Becka tested.”
An icy chill ran down her back and Becka shivered so hard she had to wrap her arms tightly around herself to stay quiet. What if they knew, or suspected, what they’d find? What if they’d cursed her, and Quinn knew all about it? Becka’s hand flew up to cover her mouth.
“Do not worry, one way or another, I will get her to you. As long as you will deliver on your end?”
Quinn was selling her out?
The line went quiet, followed by what Becka recognized as barking laughter, and then more rumbling words.
“Just tell me where and when.”
She’d been a fool to believe his honesty act after being warned repeatedly. Becka looked around the hall. No one seemed to have noticed her loitering by the alcove.
A moment passed. Quinn sighed, and then she heard him walking toward her, exiting the alcove.
Realizing she’d be caught eavesdropping, Becka sprinted across the hall as best she could, weaving between the pillars of artifacts.
“Becka!” Quinn called after her. Was he chasing her? Becka didn’t stop to find out. The adrenaline in her, once loosed, pushed her forward like a racehorse.
Until she tripped on the hem of her fashionable long trousers, which clearly hadn’t been designed for running. Becka thrust out her hands to catch herself, and instead knocked a beautiful sculpture off its pedestal with her grasping fingertips. She tried to catch it, but the attempt only knocked it further from her grasp.
Falling now alongside the sculpture, she marveled at its workmanship and fine detail. It portrayed a golden phoenix rising from a pyre, constructed from thousands of shards of clear crystal, which lit up the pyre like a living creature as the piece rotated in a graceful arc to the floor.
Where it shattered into countless fragments.
Becka hit the floor a heartbeat later on her left side, scraping her elbow and jarring her body in the process. Pain radiated throughout her body and the mother of all migraines hit her like a sledgehammer. The sudden outset and extent of the pain knocked the wind out of her harder than the fall had. For a few moments she couldn’t even focus her eyes. Everything was blurred and dark. Rolling her head, Becka closed her eyes and waited for the shock to pass.
When she opened her eyes, Quinn stood above her, his hand outstretched. Their eyes met, and by the hard edge in his eyes he knew she’d overheard him. Fear kicked in to reenergize her, but her body was too rattled to get up by herself. The sounds of others approaching spurred her to take his hand, not wanting to be sprawled out on the floor and surrounded by a crowd.
Although she glared at him while he helped her up, he was gentle as ever.
“I can explain,” he whispered.
Quinn inspected her elbow, which was bleeding. He took the kerchief from her sash and formed a quick bandage to staunch the flow.
“What could you say?” Becka whispered back. Her head throbbed, her heartbeat echoing the sensation into her fingers and toes. What in the world had happened?
Maura, Sigfrid, and Ingrid arrived a moment later, shocked looks on her sisters faces. Maura’s personal guard was hot on her heels and the older couple stood enthralled, staring at where the artifact had been.
“I’m sorry, Duchess Maura,” Becka said. “I was careless...”
Maura cut her off, her expression curious. “Guards, clear the hall. Embla and Vir, please excuse us? This is a private family matter.”
“But of course, Duchess Maura,” the man, Vir, replied. A guard motioned for Embla and Vir to exit the hall and then escorted them out.
Once they were out of earshot, Maura moved close to Becka, kicking her toe through the crystalline remnants of the phoenix on the floor, which had turned into dust. She looked up at Becka, as if seeing her again for the first time.
Would Maura have her imprisoned? Would she be forced to repay the value of the item to make amends to the family? Becka had no idea what the legality of this situation was. but understood one thing. Maura would be the one to dish out justice under the roof of House Rowan.
“I know it was careless of me to run in the hall. Perhaps it’s best that I return home?” Becka said.
“How did you do it?” Sigfrid asked, her voice awestruck.
“I tripped,” Becka didn’t try to deny it. “And as I fell my fingers caught it and knocked it off. It shattered when it hit the floor.”
“We know that,” Ingrid replied. “Your little sprint caught our attention. We witnessed the whole thing.”
Becka looked around, and everyone except Quinn seemed to be waiting for more. “Look, it’s my fault, but it was an accident.”
“I am
