It certainly gave her something to think about. So, the extra invisibles were somehow “already here,” and had been watching Sebastian. She had the distinct feeling that the intelligent ones were all in that set. And they had insinuated themselves into the household because Sebastian needed them.
All of these conclusions only opened up more questions. Where had they come from before they were “here”? Could they actually be ghosts, the spirits of former inhabitants of Redbuck? Was that even possible? The only ghosts that she had ever heard of were hardly the helpful creatures that these were — nor were they even a fraction so physical. If they weren’t ghosts, then what were they? Some sort of nature spirit? Something else entirely? The familiars of other magicians who had failed to release them when the magician died? How could she possibly tell?
She went to her desk, made notes, wrote down all of her questions and drummed her fingers on the desk as she thought. Godmother should have noticed if these were familiars, she wrote. Unless Godmother hasn’t been here herself since Sebastian changed. Something else to ask about. But I would think that even Sebastian would have noticed if they were someone else’s familiars, wouldn’t he?
I still don’t know enough about magic, she decided. But of course, there was someone here who did, and he wasn’t at all reluctant to discuss anything about magic. Sebastian would probably welcome questions, she thought, with a little amusement. I probably won’t be able to get him to stop once he starts talking.
The problem was, just at the moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know these things. I need to think very carefully how I am going to phrase these questions, she decided, as she gathered up the items of clothing that hadn’t been carried off, and put them back in the closet. It looked very bare in there now — not only because about half the clothing that had been hanging in there was gone, but because the items removed had taken up so much room.
She stretched, feeling ever so much more comfortable now that she was in one of her old, practical gowns. Genevieve is right, she thought with ironic resignation. I am never going to be a proper lady. I will never choose style over comfort.
But the thought of her stepmother gave her pause — not because she was in the least afraid of what Genevieve was saying or doing right now, but because these past few days were the first in a very long time when she hadn’t been responsible for anyone but herself. When she wasn’t trying to fight down the fear of what she might become…it had been rather nice. If the Godmother was right, and she wasn’t infected, in three months time she would be back at home again, and —
And after this, how can I ever settle into a life like hers? I already loathed gossip and gowns, and now…I am not sure I could ever just go back to supervising a household, not when I’ve seen all this. Which means that Genevieve is right again; no one is going to propose marriage to someone like me. Men want a wife who fits into society, and I am always going to be a little outside of it. Or perhaps, a great deal outside it. And if anyone ever finds out what really happened to me, would I become some sort of freakish thing, someone that people whisper about and wonder about?
So what was she going to do with herself when she got back?
She sat on the edge of the bed abruptly. Given what she had just gone through so far, simply remaining the odd spinster who stayed unwedded and made sure that her father’s household ran smoothly did not seem so bad… There was a great deal to be said for not being afraid you were going to become a vicious killer, or be hunted down by your former friends and acquaintances. And if people talked about her, so what? It wasn’t as if she craved all those invitations that came to the household. Granny would still treat her the same.
Who knows? If I am eccentric enough, that might actually be a good thing. Eccentric people are often looked to for advice if they are wise enough. It might be good for business if I were to ask Father to set me up as an herbseller. And it would give Genevieve plenty to talk about, too, and she might leave the twins to grow into their own selves instead of little copies of her.
She wasn’t entirely sure she would still be able to suffer Genevieve’s more ridiculous excesses in silence anymore, however. And that could cause more than a few household tremors.
Oh…but will peace and quiet make up for all the things I know about now, all operating madly beneath the surface, things that people don’t even suspect? There was another thing; now she had seen magic at first hand. She knew, and not just abstractly, that there was so much more outside of the little circumscribed life she had led. Skating expeditions and Guild dances didn’t seem very exciting anymore. Could she ever go back to her old life after this?
Nor was that all… Things are more complicated than even that. Now she had seen what was behind the faces that the King and the Godmother presented to the rest of the world. She knew now, and could never forget, that both of them were utterly ruthless when they needed to be. She had no doubt whatsoever that while Godmother Elena was going to try to save both her and Sebastian, if it came down to a choice, it would be Sebastian who was saved — and if it came down to “Sebastian and Bella or great danger to the Kingdom and beyond,” both of them would be sacrificed without a moment of hesitation. And for the King? It probably wasn’t even a question. He’d wield the blade himself.
In abstract, she knew that this was how it had to be. Part of her knew that this was the only decision they could make. But part of her felt not only afraid, but betrayed. The King and the Godmother were supposed to take care of you! They weren’t supposed to be the ones who watched impassively as you went to your doom — or worse, took you to the edge of the Doom Cliff and shoved you over it!
And if the King and the Godmother, both of whom were extraordinarily good people — she and everyone else in this Kingdom had evidence of just how good — could hide this ruthlessness, then how much darker were the things that not-so-good people hid? What villainy lurked behind the smiling faces she saw every day?
So her safe little world would never be safe again… She knew that the nurturing hand also held the knife, and that was very unsettling. And now if she got the least hint that there was something beneath the surface of an action or a comment, she would be suspicious of anyone she didn’t know well.
She felt the urge to go and unwrap that mirror, so that she could watch someone she knew and loved and trusted, and again resisted. She already knew what she would see, and it would only make her unhappy and lonely. What she needed was something to keep her mind busy. It would be easy enough to keep her hands busy, but she needed something to occupy her thoughts.
Well, she was in a Manor filled with books. There might be a clue about Sapphire and the other unsummoned invisibles in them. She might as well start looking for books about magic creatures.
Although the likelihood of finding anything here in her suite was pretty remote, she had to start somewhere — and besides, so far as she had been able to tell, the books here weren’t organized at all. For all she knew, something had gotten borrowed and left here by a previous guest. She might just as well remedy that before she turned to the larger library.
When Verte turned up to summon her to supper, she had rearranged about half of the books on the shelves, and had already determined that there wasn’t anything about magic or the history of Redbuck here. But really, when she considered who had probably used these rooms, it wasn’t all that likely that the guests had been interested in magic at all. This had probably been a suite for important guests, so the books here were designed to amuse or serve as resources on questions of the Kingdom. They were divided unequally between various sorts of stories for the purposes of amusement only, and books on history. There were even a few about other Kingdoms. Such people had their own wizards or sorceresses to advise them about magic; they didn’t need to learn about it themselves.
She was about to leave the room when she realized that she had never asked Verte the question that had led her to discover the invisibles were not all the sorts of creatures that Sebastian had thought they were. “Verte, are any of your musicians willing to play for me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he wrote on his slate.
Could ghosts be musicians? I don’t know why not. They can obviously be seamstresses; why not musicians?