Beauty in the Bones: Season 1

Episode 41: A Stange and Treacherous Game

I returned to the house and met one of our human housekeepers in the foyer. A middle-aged woman with a jittery manner, she dusted the furniture to a flawless polish every evening. When she saw me, she scurried to her feet and curtsied.

"Good evening, sir." Her voice shook, as if she thought I'd scold her. She was a new hire, hailing from a traditional, more strict aristocratic household.

I nodded and continued on my way to Father's study. My parents encouraged the staff to interact with us. We treated them with dignity, and they served us well in return.

As I strode down the main hall, I passed the veranda doors leading to the grand pool area. The splashing beyond meant Castor was still swimming. My brother had beaten me the last time we raced a lap. His boundless energy was an asset in sports. He still couldn't surpass me in rowing, though he swore he would one day. I always gave him a playful cuff for such ambition. The twerp would never best me.

I peered into the entrance parlor and found Juno chattering in the corner. Mother wasn't there. She was likely still in the garden, planning the new Sanctuary.

Juno flapped and cocked a bright black eye toward me. "Senever, I see!"

Juno's sensitivity to shamanic talent astounded me. She nibbled my fingertip, looking for a treat. I offered her a slice of tangerine from the feed dish and stroked her shiny black feathers. Fruit in her beak, the bird hopped back to the perch.

Hjungstlen, a spirit-bound animal--how I missed Duke, the closest I'd ever had to such a companion. His devotion was so true that he'd given his life for mine. Someday, I'd get another dog. I had no time for one while attending prep school. Perhaps I'd find a puppy after graduation. The thought cheered me somewhat as I continued down the hall.

The tall mahogany doors to Father's study were open. Inside, Father hunched over his desk with a display monocle over one eye, his cigar dwindling in tense fingers. He looked up and ground the cigar into a silver ashtray.

"You look troubled, son." He removed the monocle and set it aside. "I'm sorry for being so overbearing earlier. I'm concerned for your safety."

"I understand. Thank you for granting me this last term."

He smiled. "I know it means a lot to you. And I have no doubt you'll excel, as always." He rose from his chair. "It's an unsettling night on all counts. Have you heard the latest news about Miles Prynne?"

"A friend just called and told me."

"How swift word travels, then. His death is tragic, and much too timely." He walked to the elongated window and stared out. The silver patches at his temples peppered through all of his hair, now. He seemed older than his forty-four years, vulnerable and tired.

"What do you mean by timely?" I asked, stepping toward him.

"There's too much uncertainty surrounding his death. Too much controversy. Some factions insist he was unfairly treated by the trade commissioners. On the other hand, militants like the Fist Of Heaven picket the Assembly as we speak, demanding thorough inspections of all off-world commerce. They say Mr. Prynne was no martyr, but a criminal."

I drew a sharp breath. "What do you believe?"

He folded his hands behind his back. "Whether Mr. Prynne was innocent or not, his death is a catalyst. We'll see as the case unfolds. Above all, I believe one thing--the Pruessian Empire must be stopped. The colonies should strengthen sanctions against Hir Kaezer and unite with a common purpose. There's no middle ground in this. We must plan carefully, but it'll be no easy task."

I straightened my posture, meeting his gaze. "I'll help however I can."

"That's my boy." He slapped a hand against my shoulder. "You're a Blane, through and through."