Kate Elliott - Cold Magic

You know we love you for yourself, Cat. You're never to think otherwise. This is your home now. But I lay this charge on you, that you must protect Bee, if there comes a time when she needs your protection.

Right now, with that Four Moons personage and his powerful magic climbing the stairs, with the mist rising, I was certain those words had been meant for this day out of all days.

Shiffa took a step back from the railing and raised her hands theatrically, like a dido sighting her warrior hero onstage. "Blessed Tank! Such a good-looking young man!"

I've marched into view, framed by the fading gold wallpaper on one side and the polished black balustrade on the other.

He wasn't as handsome as he clearly thought himself to be. He was just well turned out, nothing you wouldn't expect from a pampered son of Four Moons House. Also, he was much younger than I had taken him for from his voice.

When he spotted me, his eyes widened as if he were astonished, likely by the regrettable dullness of my soberly unfashionable dress. I shoved Bee up another step, hoping she would bolt for the door to the attic, and I took each step down with a drawn-out measure worthy, I am sure, of the great principessas of the theater.

"Yes, Aunt! I'm coming," I said brightly. "I do apologize for taking so long to dress. You know how I've been wanting to attend a lecture as engrossing as one on the principles of aerosta-sis! Especially since we just this morning were fortunate enough to listen to a lengthy lecture on aerostatic aircraft by the very same esteemed professor we are engaged to hear tonight. Perhaps it will prove to be exactly the same lecture delivered verbatim! I can't believe that it's finally time to leave. Oh! I beg your pardon, Magister. We haven't been introduced."

We hit the first-floor landing at the same time, he coming up and I coming down. He said, "Don't try your luck at the theater, maestressa. You may have the looks, but you don't have the skill."

He had a mustache and a beard trimmed tight along the line of his jaw, and he kept his hair cropped short against his dark head in the manner of professional boxers. It was the kind of style you saw in paintings brought to life fifty years ago when the scions of the House had ruled fashion. There was something very bad about a young man who dressed in such an old-fashioned and overdone style and who had such a particular way of looking down his nose at a well-brought-up girl whose lineage was acceptable in polite company, even if her family could not move in elite circles because of a few problems with money.

I opened my mouth to retort with scathing words that would cut him to the heart, figuratively speaking, when Bee, the utter fool, bumped up against me. Anger streamed off her like heat. I stuck my hands to my hips, elbows akimbo, to stop her from grabbing a sword off the rack and skewering him.

Red-faced, Aunt reached the landing behind him. As she halted beside the personage, she smiled in an absolutely false way. My tongue smarted, as if I'd just licked a block of ice.

"Come down, girls," she said, and I knew then that she'd known all along we were hiding in the window seat. The house was hers, after all; very little escaped her notice. "Are Hanan and Astraea with you?"

Bee popped out beside me, and I grabbed her upper arm and held on like I meant it, which I did. She loosed a glare at me, but she stayed where she was and fulminated.

"I'm sure the little dears are asleep," I said. "They were quite exhausted from their day's studies, for we are a studious family here, are we not? Are we leaving soon for the academy, Aunt?"

"I haven't much time. I'm late already," said the personage in the very same arrogant voice I had heard earlier today in the headmaster's library.

I was sure it was the same voice-hard to get quite that much biting pride into such otherwise innocuous words-but his clothes were less traditional and more fashionable. Because I hadn't seen his face in the library, I examined him dubiously. It seemed unlikely in the extreme that a magister, scion of a prominent mage House, would have entered the very academy of natural historians and scholarly philosophers that the cold mages were known to scorn and distrust.

My expression, meant to be disdainful, must have impressed him, if not in a good way.

"She is the eldest Hassi Barahal girl?" he asked, indicating me. How he stared!

"She is the eldest of the girls," agreed Aunt, indicating me.

Uncle puffed up beside her, looking as enflamed with anger as Bee, and at these words he cast such a look at Aunt that I knew something was up. Something bad. Something very, very wrong.

"You are the eldest Hassi Barahal girl?" the personage asked me, an odd question given that he had just asked Aunt the same thing.

"So I have always been told," I retorted.

"Cat," murmured Aunt warningly. "Silence is better than disrespect."

He ignored her and glanced almost slightingly at Bee. Bee was shorter, dainty with a plumpness that made her seem a year or two younger than she really was, and, of course, she was beautiful. His gaze fixed back on me. "It must be asked and answered three times. You are the eldest Hassi Barahal girl?"

Aunt sucked in a sharp breath. "Catherine!" she said warningly.

Uncle shut his eyes.

I just found the cold mage irritating. "As we said twice already. I am the eldest."

"So be it. The contract was sealed with magic. You cannot lie to me." He stared at me a moment longer, gave an abrupt, infinitesimal shake of the head as with utter disdain, and turned to Aunt. "The clothing she is wearing is simply not acceptable. You need pack only a small trunk for the journey. The House will provide all she needs once we arrive."

"Once we arrive where?" I looked at Aunt for clarification, but she was quite deliberately not looking at me, so I looked

toward Uncle instead, but he wasn't looking, either; he'd already steered Bee toward the stairs.

"Darling, up you go. It's well past bedtime."

Bee caught my gaze, but we kept our mouths shut. That was the code of Bee and Cat: Keep your mouth shut and don't say anything until you know what's going on and how much trouble your cousin, who is also your best friend in the world, is in.

Aunt sailed past me and kissed Bee on the cheek. "Yes, darling, just kiss Catherine good night and be gone." Trembling, Bee gave me a kiss on each cheek while Aunt kept talking to the personage. "The dear girl may wish to choose some of her clothing for herself, what she likes best. You know how girls are. They like to have special things with them, very sentimental-"

The magister whistled sharply, a piercing sound that made us all flinch. As Uncle pulled Bee away, she twisted off her bracelet and thrust it into my hand. Then Uncle dragged her up the upper stairs, him hauling with the desperation of a man in pain and she stumbling up backward as she watched me. I didn't move. I was too stunned, her bracelet the only solid weight that fixed me to earth. The personage set a hand on the railing. A wisp of mist rose from the polished wood as he leaned on it, canting head and shoulders to look down into the foyer.

I wondered what would happen if I shoved him over.

"Bring him in," he called to an unseen servant, perhaps to the footman who had been riding beside the coachman.

Aunt tried again. "I am sure she would like to bring a few chosen items with her, if you would just let her go up to her chamber and choose-"

He turned back. "She will not leave my sight. You will supervise the packing of a small trunk, as I have indicated, and she will remain on the landing with me until the trunk is packed. That way she can't vanish?

I am not a ('at for nothing. I'm really very friendly, but there