Chapter one
Phoneheldtoherear, Hallie was laughing as she rounded the corner that brought her in sight of her front door. On the other end of the line, Girard, his voice full of warmth and rare mischief, was telling her some outrageous story about one of his childhood exploits. He’d just reached the point where he and his sister, each covered head-to-toe in flour and treacle, were trying to hide from his mother or, far worse, the head cook. While the idea of a household which had even one cook was a foreign concept to her, like a lot of the things he was describing, she could easily imagine a much younger version of the man she knew, pulled into mischief by his lively sister, scared of what would happen if they got caught.
As she accidentally stepped into a puddle and was hit with the unwelcome but familiar sensation of cold, filthy water splashing up the leg of her already damp jeans, Hallie had to shake her head at the fact she was having the conversation at all. Girard was one of the elite - thehochlen- that ruled the world.Until recently she’d lived and worked her entire life among the humans - thekarlen- in the often overcrowded streets of low city, which included the poorest parts of the whole city. She hadn’t had any wish to meet, let alone interact with any of the elite, who generally kept to themselves in high city, on the hilltops soaring above the commonfolk. And now she was not only relaxed and happy to be speaking to one of thehochlen, but wishing he was here in person and not on the other side of the great, sprawling city. It might not be that great of a distance travel-wise, but it was a world away in terms of wealth and power. There would be no potholes full of dirty water in the streets where Girard lived, she was quite sure.
The story, and Girard’s company at the end of the phone line, was helping to distract Hallie from the winter-cold rain that was doing its best to soak through her clothes. As she drew closer to her home and the promise of dry clothes, she checked in her stride, laughter dying, at the sight of her roommate, Rosalia, standing outside the front door, arms wrapped around herself.
There was a pause on the phone, and then Girard’s voice, easy laughter gone and replaced by concern, asked: “Hallie, is everything alright?”
“I’m not sure. Rosalia is standing outside and doesn’t look happy.” Hallie picked up her pace, worry coursing through her.
“Didn’t you say it was raining? What’s she doing outside?”
“I don’t know. Sorry. I will need to call you back.”
“Let me know if I can help,” Girard said. Hallie could hear the sincerity in the offer even through the phone connection. It was no little thing he offered, either. As one of the investigators employed by the world’s ruling council, the Conclave, Girard and his colleagues had a great deal of power and authority.
“Will do,” Hallie said, and was surprised to realise after she’d spoken the words that she meant it. She’d always taken pride in being independent and not needing anyone’s help. But a lotof things had changed in the past few months. She tucked her phone away and stopped a few paces from Rosalia. The rain had lessened a bit, but from the way Rosalia’s normally sleek and shining dark hair was plastered around her head and shoulders, her roommate had been standing outside for the whole rain storm. Rosalia’s cool-toned, pale brown skin looked almost white, and there were traces of what Hallie thought might be tears among the rain on her face.
“Rosalia, what’s wrong?” Hallie asked, keeping her voice gentle. Rosalia was normally full of warmth and smiles, one of the kindest people Hallie had ever met. It was rare to see her looking so distressed. “Did something happen to the bakery?” Rosalia’s business, still new, was her pride and joy and had been thriving, as far as Hallie knew. Any threat or issue with that would have seriously upset her friend. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. The bakery is fine,” Rosalia said. She was shivering. “Saints, it’s cold. I should have picked up a coat.”
“Did you forget your key?” Hallie asked, frowning.
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Hallie asked, still with concern but in a less gentle voice. Now that she’d stopped moving she was realising that she was soaked, too. Her own hair probably looked similar to Rosalia’s, and she could feel trails of water running down her back. Her jeans were heavy with cold water, clinging to her legs.
“Your mother is here.” Rosalia lifted her chin, and Hallie saw with a stab of hurt that her friend had indeed been crying. “She insisted on waiting for you. Didn’t want to be in the same room as me.”
“What? My mother? And she threw you out?” Hallie’s temper fired up. Wilona Talbot had never been the warmest or most affectionate of mothers. She’d renounced Hallie from the blood family a decade before and more recently had completelysevered Hallie from the family vine. She had no business being here, as far as Hallie was concerned. And certainly no business turning Rosalia out of what was now her home.
“Not in so many words,” Rosalia said, mouth twisting in what might have been a smile. “She justsuggestedI would be more comfortable elsewhere. I’m afraid I was so furious I stormed out and only then realised I didn’t have a coat or my phone or anything apart from my house keys. And I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of creeping back inside. I’d left the bakery keys inside, too, otherwise I would have gone there.”
“Well, come in. You can put some dry clothes on at least,” Hallie said, putting her key into the door lock and pushing it open, temper still high, ready to confront her mother.
The inside of the house was cooler than normal, and Hallie didn’t think that was due to her mother’s presence. She frowned as she glanced at the fuel-less fire that she and Rosalia had installed just a few days before. Sure enough, it had been turned off. Hallie hadn’t bothered with heating when it had just been her living here alone, but it had been a colder than usual winter, even in the city, and she had grown to appreciate the comfort. She and Rosalia had also added a more modern, flat screen television to replace the old, bulky set that Hallie had used for years. Things that Hallie counted as luxuries, but which she deeply appreciated. It was typical of her mother to do something petty like turn off the fire, which she would probably regard as wasteful. Hallie was still frowning when she turned to glare at her mother, who was sitting at the dining table, a mug in front of her, a pinched expression of displeasure on her face. Hallie had inherited her dark hair and pale skin from both her parents,although Wilona’s hair, pulled back into a tight knot at the back of her head, was now threaded with hints of grey.
Hallie stripped off her soaking wet leather jacket and hung it up on the hooks inside the door and pulled off her equally wet boots, leaving them on the rubber mat near the coats so the water wouldn’t pool on the floor. That done, she crossed the living space so she was standing on the other side of the table from her mother, Hallie’s back to the kitchen.
“Magravine Talbot,” Hallie said, her tone frosty enough to lower the temperature still further, aware of echoes from her last meeting with her mother. It had been raining and Hallie had been soaked to the skin on that occasion as well. Hallie had gone to the family home to confront her brother, Peter, who’d stolen money from her. She hadn’t been allowed inside the house, standing in the rain outside, confronted by her mother’s stern disapproval and her brother’s smirk and self-satisfaction. Far from instructing her son to make repayment, Wilona had instead broken the contract between her and Hallie, and very nearly trapped Hallie in the family vine for the rest of her life.
“Hallie,” Wilona answered, in a similar tone. Her eyes slid past Rosalia and her expression pinched even more. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“This is Rosalia’s home, too,” Hallie said, fighting to control her temper. She’d danced to Wilona Talbot’s whim for almost her entire life, and had thought she’d never have to face her again. For her mother to turn up, uninvited, to a place Hallie had always been careful to keep away from the family vine, was making her skin itch.
“I need to change anyway,” Rosalia said. She took a step towards her room and hesitated, looking back at Hallie. “Unless you want me to stay.”
“Thank you, but, no, the Magravine will not be staying long,” Hallie said, heart warming at the support offered.
Rosalia just nodded and headed into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
Hallie stayed where she was. She found that she didn’t want to get too close to her mother. “What do you want?”
“Your manners have not improved. That will have to be addressed,” Wilona said. She got to her feet and pulled a folded-over document out from one of the pockets of her long, drab coat. Hallie thought she recognised the coat from early childhood memories. Her mother didn’t believe in spending money where she could avoid it. “This is a notice of repudiation. You were severed from the family vine under false information. You will return to it immediately, and report to my office first thing tomorrow to begin your duties.”
“I will do no such thing,” Hallie said, forcing the words out even though her whole body had frozen in shock. Wilona Talbot took pride in holding to her promises. She’d only broken her word once before, to Hallie’s knowledge, and that had been the contract between mother and daughter. The idea that Wilona would not try to go back on an agreement again was almost as shocking as the actual substance of what Wilona was saying. “You severed me from the vine. There were no conditions placed on that.” Hallie had read the short document of severance at least a dozen times, not quite able to believe it had been real, searching for any loopholes her mother might be able to use. But the document had been drafted by her cousin Morgana, one of the best lawyers in the city, and it had seemed to Hallie to be exactly as watertight as Morgana had promised.
