The Shadowsong Conspiracy

Chapter 24

 The sky was striped with smudged pastel colors. Grayish blue, pink, a dash of orange. The contrast to the heavy colors of the drawing room was too stark and made Sawyer withdraw his eyes. Warm air gushed on him from the fireplace, and candles flickered all across the walls. He didn't want to be in the dark.

A servant entered the room, holding a tea tray. She poured a cup full of licorice tea, added a sprinkle of cream, and curtseyed.

"My lord."

The spicy smell of licorice filled the room, but Sawyer was not thirsty any more. He picked up a slice of buttercherry cake, tasted it, and dropped it down. His eyes glided over the paintings on the wall and stopped above the fireplace. His father looked at him in his best attire, his blond hair sleeked back and his hand resting lightly on his hip. A dusty circle of light shone behind him. Sawyer's eyes moved to the spot beside his father's portrait. There was a large lighter patch on the wall, not completely hidden by a painting that had replaced the original one. His grandmother, sitting in a chair with her graying hair up on an intricate hairdo and a fan in her hand.

Sharp steps echoed from the corridor. The Marquess came into the room and stopped hesitantly behind the bust of the seventh Earl of Clermont.

"I'm going to Londinium for a few days," he said, not unkindly.

"I see."

"I have my Squilli with me."

"Good."

The Marquess studied Sawyer for a while, and then inclined his head and left the room. Sawyer gazed into the depths of the crackling fire, not really thinking anything.

This was what he had done for weeks; going to bed late, rising early, coming to sit in the drawing room, and blocking away all thoughts. The window had been his amusement, his view into the outside world. He had followed the maids and the servants doing their chores and occasionally eyeing each other in the yard, his father coming and going, villagers passing by on the road behind the iron gate, and ducks parading around the recently melted pond under the sprawling, old oak tree.

Steam was no longer rising from the tea, and Sawyer drank a mouthful. The flavor was not particularly strong; Dexter had obviously embarked on another spring cleaning crusade and left the maids in charge of the tea.

A light knock on the door made Sawyer startle and drop the cup on its saucer.

"My lord." Juniper curtsied, her eyes twinkling.

Sawyer felt his lips stretch into a reluctant smile.

"If you want to follow proper etiquette, you shouldn't even be here without a chaperone."

"At least I'm trying," Juniper said. She settled on a couch opposite Sawyer and bundled her hands neatly in her lap. "Mom sent me here to cheer you up."

"Nice try. Where's the balaclava? You almost look like a proper Aristo lady."

Juniper's hair was combed up, although several frizzy strands had escaped the hairpins, and she was dressed in one of Nanners's famous frocks, a blue satin dress with ivory adornments.

"My life is not all about the Force, you know."

"How do you manage to keep it a secret from Nanners? I've never managed to look her in the eyes and lie."

"She never asks about it, so I don't have to lie. She knows nothing about it and thinks I only wanted to attend Miss Pettipenny's school because of its scholarly achievements, not because it's conveniently situated in Londinium."