Epilogue
Sera stood before the worktable in Barrington’s home, shafts of light flooding through the arched windows behind her. She set aside the book she had chosen to read that morning—The Ethics of Hydromancy—once again drawn to the letter she received a week ago, signaling her last day at the Aetherium’s Witchling Academy. Though she’d committed its disappointing words to memory, she read them once more.
For your direct involvement in incidents leading to the death of Mr. Timothy Delacort, you have been removed from the Aetherium’s Seventhborn Program effective immediately.
Heat gathered in her cheeks, but she rejected the coming tears and thrust the note into a brass crucible in the middle of the table. It was childish to pretend the outcome would have been otherwise. Timothy’s father had told her what would happen if she didn’t stay away from his son, and he’d been a man of his word.
Since her expulsion from the Academy, Barrington had welcomed her into his home. However temporary, she was grateful for his kindness.
She tapped the edge of the kettle with her wand and sparked a flame inside. Whirls of smoke and licks of fire billowed upward as red, fiery tentacles wound about the letter and consumed it.
“Trying to burn down my home again, I see.”
Sera startled at the deep baritone and lifted her head to Professor Barrington leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in his professorial robes. After Mrs. York vouched for his being at the scene, no one suspected their relationship extended beyond that of a professor and a student, and his employment remained unaffected. Sera lowered her eyes to the note now wrapped in flames. If only she could say the same.
“I had no reason to keep it. Regardless of how many times I read it, the outcome won’t ever change.”
They stood in silence until the flames devoured the note and extinguished. Whirls of white smoke then twirled from within the crucible. Sera sighed and closed the book she had been reading.
Barrington glanced at the cover and hummed. “Hydromancy?”
“I was hoping to scry for Mary, but seeing as I missed all my Water-level courses, my progress was nonexistent. It’s useless to worry, I know, but I keep wondering if the spell is truly safe.” Reason told her it was. Mrs. York had all the bones found at the scene stored in a vault lest a necromancer decide to raise any of the Brothers and recover the spell. Barrington then assured her Noah’s spirit could not be summoned. She might have doubted him, had she not come across a black magic spell on his desk used to bind spirits after death.
But Sera lowered her eyes to the Hydromancy book; that wasn’t the only reason she scried for Mary. In addition to all Mary had confessed that fateful day at the church, later inquiries revealed her infatuation with Timothy had been nothing more than her parents’ orders. If she married Timothy, her family would be protected by the Delacort name and his father’s Aetherium status. Sadly, the Tenants had since disappeared, leaving Mary alone to pay for their sins.
Sera pressed a hand to her chest, the words of Mary’s confession a ghost haunting her thoughts.
I did it all for you, Sera. I love you.
Everything Mary had done was to protect others, and ultimately, she took the fall. The least Sera could do was look after her. Even if she never fully forgave the girl, she still loved her, too.
“The spell is safe,” Barrington said, tearing her from thought. He undid the tie of his professorial robes, revealing his all-black attire underneath. Since Timothy’s death, the Academy was in mourning. Sera smoothed down the black gown she wore; a part of her would always be in mourning, too. “And so is Miss Tenant. Where she is, no one will find her.”
“But how can we be sure? Her father worked with the Brotherhood. Maybe they’ve reached out to her somehow, perhaps threatened her. If they get their hands on the spell, I fear for any line of seven sisters.”
She started to open the book again when Barrington’s hand came above the cover, and he gently closed it.
“Miss Dovetail,” he said, much softer this time. Sera’s fingers tightened on the edge of the book, his voice a balm to her fear and kindling to her heart. “Mrs. York came to the Academy today.”
“What did she say?” she asked quickly, lowering onto a stool. The worry that her dread had been confirmed—that Mary had indeed heard the spell and shared it—drummed her pulse in her ears.
He leaned on the edge of the table, his legs crossed at his ankles. “Mrs. York had Miss Tenant sent away. I am not sure where. Not many people know. It is for her safety as well. We recognize that, in the end, she was also a pawn. Miss Tenant swears she didn’t hear anything, and after various questionings, Inspector Lewis believes she tells the truth. There is a chance she lies, but Mrs. York has assured me that where she is, there will be no one to tell.”
A nudge of pain hurt Sera’s heart. Mary with a smile like sunshine, kept in solitary confinement, her light withering away each day. But she wouldn’t think of this. At least Mary was safe and could smile and sing and laugh and breathe in the midst of her darkness. Timothy, however…
Her heart stuttered, and she shook the thought away. Though a part of her would mourn him always, Timothy was finally at peace.
“Come, enough work for now.” He straightened. “There is someone I want you to meet.”
Standing, she peered down toward the courtyard. There were no horses or carriage, and she hadn’t heard anyone transfer in. “I didn’t know we had a visitor,” she started, but Barrington was already by the door.
“He’s been here for quite some time. Grab a cloak.”
Sera frowned and met him at the door, taking a cloak from the hooks there. Why hadn’t Rosie told her? And why did she need a cloak?
“Is it a new client?” she asked, putting on the mantle. He’d said he would wait before taking on new work, but Sera wished he wouldn’t. Anything to take her mind off recent events was a welcome distraction.
He gave her a side-eyed smile. “Patience.”
Sera rolled her eyes. “You’re purposely impossible sometimes, do you know that?”
His smile widened. “Just to you.”
Pinpricks nipped her skin, but Sera lowered her head and smoothed a hand down her arm, picturing the scars beneath. She would have to work on her reactions to him, tame her heart that forgot its rhythm when he was around and the smile that he drew from her lips much too easily. Nothing good could come of her attachment to him. Nothing good ever did, not for her heart anyway, especially when his seemed to belong to Gummy.
He led her downstairs, and when she thought they were to enter the parlor to meet their guest, Barrington walked to the front door and opened it. Sera’s brow furrowed, but she lifted her hood and walked out into the newly settled twilight.
They ventured down a dirt path leading away from the estate. The late winter night was brisk. A breeze rustled the surrounding tall grass for miles, scented with vegetation and the nearby ocean. Sera closed her eyes for a moment, not caring where he led her as the wind hushed around them, swept into her robe, and twined about her in the softest of touches.
When she opened her eyes, Barrington gazed down at her, a smile in those steel-gray eyes.
She averted her gaze. “Sorry, the breeze…”
“Don’t apologize. The peace here is singular. I hope it is lasting for you, far beyond tonight.”
She mirrored his smile, her heart and face warm. “For you as well.”
A growl resounded in the distance. The Barghest sprinted down a hill and lunged for an orb of magic that Lucas speared at him. After tearing through rugs in both the parlor and library, Rosie had relegated him to the stables. The horses didn’t seem to mind, and neither did Lucas. In the days under Lucas’s care, the fur on his bear head had grown in longer, covering the puncture wounds on his neck. Black tar no longer dripped from his mouth, just a slobber Sera often heard Rosie bemoaning. But Sera didn’t mind; he could do as he wanted. He’d saved her life, according to Barrington. After the professor woke up cognizant of Timothy being a Keeper, he transferred into the school but hadn’t found her. When Timothy’s father arrived at the Academy frantically searching for Timothy, Barrington said he’d known they were together and had the Barghest track her down.
Sera smiled and waved at the Barghest as Lucas thrust an orb of magic out into the field. The Barghest dashed over a slope and readily caught and devoured it.
She and the professor walked along the moors in silence until they reached the top of a hill that overlooked the ocean in the far distance. Yet it was what lay directly before them that gave Sera pause. A cemetery spread along the hill, marble headstones dotting the land.
A small path wound about the entire cemetery. They followed it to a stone bench by a willow tree. An idea of who it was they visited came to mind, but the possibility left Sera without air. Barrington brought them around the headstone, and her every suspicion was confirmed.
“I would like for you to meet my brother, Filip.”
Sera swallowed. “Hello, Filip,” she said, unsure if she’d made a sound.
Barrington knelt at the grave and brushed away drops of rain that had fallen earlier in the evening. “Filip, this is my assistant, Miss Seraphina Dovetail.”
He motioned to the stone bench by the tree. The seat was narrow, forcing him to sit just beside her. Sera welcomed this, the desire to touch his hand and ease his pain somewhat surprising and overwhelming.
“He was older by a few seconds, though it could have been a lifetime. It was like he wanted to be first at everything—not to outdo me in any way but rather to make sure it was safe for me to follow. To show me the right way to do things. He obeyed the rules and made our parents proud, set the prime example. Too bad I never followed.”
His look grew distant with memory. “My father was always away on one expedition or another. When my mother passed, he came back and took up a position at the Academy. We were ten when Father began teaching us about our history. I had no interest in any of it, and it showed. Father tried to force me to like it, punished me if I didn’t, so I did the logical thing. I rebelled and eventually got kicked out of the Academy.”
Remembering Timothy’s words, Sera nodded.
“Shortly after, I left my home and traveled, finding work where I could. It was hard for some time, but I met many sorts of people in my travels, including the man who became my mentor, Mr. Duncan York.”
Sera gasped, all the pieces of the puzzle coming together. “The chancellor was your mentor?”
Barrington smiled. “He was, before he entered Aetherium politics. He taught me many things that eventually allowed me to take the Aetherium exam.”
His smile withered, and his gaze lowered to his hands. “I returned home soon after to show Filip and my father everything I’d accomplished. All I found when I arrived was my father’s house consumed in flames and someone running away into the darkness of the night. In the firelight, I saw a raven on the fleeing man’s robe, but I never saw his face. I would have chased him, immobilized him with a spell, but Filip and my father were still inside. My emotions got the best of me, and I couldn’t extinguish the flames. They felt to be coming from everywhere, no doubt spurred on by my father’s experiments, spells, tonics… But I had to save them. I found Filip on the second floor and was able to drag him out, but…” His voice faded. “It was too late to save him. There was an explosion, and the house collapsed, taking away my father as well.”
For long moments they sat in silence. The winds moaned around them as though echoing his laments.
“I’m sorry,” Sera said, unable to find more words.
He smiled, though it never reached the sorrow in his eyes. “You’ve no reason to be sorry. It was the Brotherhood who did this, and it is them who will pay. Mrs. York says the more revenge I seek, the further I move from absolution, but I fear there is no penance for the things I’ve done, for leaving my brother alone, most of all. I should have been there. I was supposed to protect him, and I didn’t.”
Emotions swelled, and she touched his hand before she realized her actions. “What they did is not your fault. The Brotherhood is evil and care for no one. This is their doing, and you should not carry their blame.”
He nodded, and with his eyes turned down to her hand on his, he folded her fingers into his. “Thank you.”
Cognizant of her hand in his, Sera blushed and slipped it away. She tucked a strand of her hair back into place so he wouldn’t see how her hands trembled. “It is I who should thank you, for the past months, for bringing me here and telling me of your life…” For making me your anchor.
“I should have brought you long before. I wanted to. I just…” He exhaled, and a gust of wind stole the breath away. “I want you to know why I do the things I do. And that just as I haven’t given up on Filip, I will not give up on you. We will find your family, Miss Dovetail, and learn all there is to know about your past. And make no mistake, we will find the Brotherhood and make them pay for all they’ve done.” He met her stare with an openness Sera hadn’t ever seen before. “Most of all, I want you to know that while my company may not compare to Miss Tenant’s friendship or Mr. Delacort’s affections, I hope you will be happy here for however long you wish to stay.”
At once, the world seemed to disappear. There were only his words, spoken at the foot of his beloved brother’s grave, the person who gave his life meaning and purpose.
Sera wished to tell him that he was a good man, that Timothy’s affections were entirely one sided, and that she was already happy in his home with Rosie and Lucas and the Barghest—with him—but she simply held his gaze and nodded, his words a fire that spread warmth in her chest, burned at her heart and the words she wanted to say.
Movement over his shoulder caught Sera’s attention as Lucas entered the cemetery, a letter in his hands. A red line ran the length of the envelope.
“Pardon me, sir, miss.” He held the note to Barrington. “Rosie said it’s just come for you, sir, from the Aetherium, and it’s marked urgent.”
“It’s always urgent with the Aetherium,” the professor muttered. “Thank you, Lucas.”
Barrington took the letter and opened it swiftly. He read it and hummed. “Interesting. Seems someone has been using a series of love spells to bewitch Aetherium employees.” He lowered the note and explained, “With a love spell, a magician can enchant their victims into doing all sorts of things in the name of love, such as disclosing valuable information. Whoever our culprit is has bewitched three secretaries in the past two weeks. Mrs. York would like us to investigate.”
Sera straightened, her pulse quick. “Do you think they’re attempting to find the vault where Mrs. York put the bones, in order to learn the last spell?”
Barrington folded the note and stuffed it into his inner pocket. “Perhaps, but there’s only one way to find out.” Standing, he held his hand out to Sera, the thrill of a new case glittering in his eyes. “Shall we?”
Sera considered his hand and all the things it offered. Safety, companionship, and adventure with the possibility of blood, murder, and death, all the while investigating love.
She slid her fingers into his and stood. “We shall.”
Love was bad enough on its own, but she’d gladly tackle it by his side.
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