Hanging from the wall over the credenza was an intricate piece of art in the shape of vines and flowers created out of metal, clockwork gears, and tiny shards of clarion crystal. At first glance, it appeared as nothing more than an homage to Ashionen flowers made to match the wallpaper.
If one knew what to look for, one could see the brass vines were twisted in such a way as to match the routes of the catacombs Blaine had just come from. Tiny clarion crystal flowers were scattered through the larger metal ones, resting on brass vines in shallow grooves. As Blaine watched, one of the flowers slowly glided along a vine in what passed for south of the city—an indication of someone walking the catacombs.
The clarion crystal flower linked to the crystal shard embedded in the key in his satchel was currently unmoving in the cluster of antiqued metal rosebuds that marked the Auclair estate. Blaine looked away from the tracking device and met the gaze of a woman who the nobility bowed to as one of the few important bloodlines left, and who was called Fulcrum by those in the Clockwork Brigade.
Meleri Auclair, Duchess of Auclair, was of average height, graceful, and demanding. Her red hair shimmered with gray and was cut in a severe style that hugged her skull. She’d never quite grown it out of the widow’s style she’d chopped it to after her husband died. As the matriarch of her bloodline, Meleri wasn’t bound by societal tradition.
The gown she wore was practical, high-necked, and unadorned. Her lightly wrinkled face was touched with a hint of makeup, drawing attention to her hazel eyes and the sharpness in her gaze that could skewer a man at a dozen paces. One did not become a spymaster by being meek.
“You don’t ever deviate from our meetings,” Meleri said.
“Something happened today that warranted it, Your Grace,” Blaine said.
Meleri leaned back in her chair, the creak of leather loud in the office. “Do tell.”
Blaine hesitated, thinking about the promise he’d given to the Dusk Star high in the sky, with only the cold and the wind to hear their words. But the North Star had guided the Auclairs east to him, and they knew part of the truth lost during the Inferno. Perhaps it was time to give voice to a hope few people clung to.
“The star gods left a child in Cosian. That child is here in Amari,” Blaine said.
Meleri jerked forward in surprise, bracing herself against the edge of her desk with both hands as all the color drained from her face. “Are you certain?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, dredging up the shape of Caris’ face and those vivid gray eyes full of life. “Yes.”
Meleri drew in a breath that sounded like it hurt. “Dureau, please fetch your sisters.”
“Yes, Mother,” Dureau replied and slipped out of the office.
Blaine opened his eyes, watching as Meleri stood from her chair to come around the desk. He knew she could appear unassuming, but right then, the sheer forceful presence of her personality was a reminder the duchess was anything but ordinary.
“It took you a year to tell us where the child was left. Why, when we fight for the same future?” Meleri asked, studying him.
Blaine shook his head. “Your North Star gave you a decree, and my Dusk Star did the same for me. I kept my word to keep the child safe.”
“And now?”
“I’m still keeping my word.”
“Ever a Westergard.”
He said nothing to that and kept his peace until Meleri’s oldest and middle children arrived with Dureau. Blaine saw plenty of Lore these days, but he rarely saw Meleri’s firstborn. Brielle Auclair was the heir to her mother’s title and had claimed their bloodline’s seat in the House of Lords once she was old enough.
Married, with children of her own, Brielle was neck-deep in the Clockwork Brigade, though her focus lay elsewhere. While her brother handled the sneaky aspect of codework, and Lore took charge of the cogs with their mother, Brielle’s attention was on high society. It was her duty to parse the politics, to dig up the secrets hoarded by the nobility, to keep her finger on the pulse of society’s mores.
It was Brielle’s work in the world of false smiles and knifelike words that brought them news of the Daijal court’s ever-encroaching power. Her position was such that she could corral allies still loyal to Ashion’s past, but the future was looking bleak, and supporters kept peeling off. Blaine wondered how the news he brought today would change that.
Dureau closed the door behind his sisters, but he activated no spell for quiet over the room. Other than the spells in the basement and the automaton that guarded the entrance to the catacombs, the Auclairs rarely allowed magic to be used in their estate.
Their bloodline had survived the assassins on the night of the Inferno because they had no magic and starfire did not burn in their souls. Meleri had made sure to keep that distinction in the years after. While the Clockwork Brigade had magicians in their ranks, there were none allowed to work within the estate’s grounds.
Secrets were kept through loyalty and the use of mind magic that allowed their servants to look the other way when visitors arrived from below. Blaine wasn’t comfortable with some of the decisions Meleri made as Fulcrum, but it wasn’t his place to argue.
“What is it, Mother?” Brielle asked as she moved farther into the study.
She was taller than Lore, wearing what was currently the height of fashion for Amari, with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes that saw as much as her mother. She must have come from the House of Lords recently, for her ranking brooch was pinned to a white sash hanging off one shoulder. While in public, she was referred to by the title of Lady. Here within the walls of her mother’s study, she was known as Whisper to the Clockwork Brigade.
“Blaine comes bearing news of the child the North Star helped save during the Inferno,” Meleri said.
Four pairs of eyes pinned Blaine like a bug, but he refused to look away. They were all of them cunning enough not to give away their annoyance, but he heard their opinions of his decision in the exasperation found in Lore’s voice.
