Chambers said, “The apartment is empty, but do not move in front of any windows, or even allow the curtains to move. There are too many in Vin who sells information.”
“Okay, I’ll be careful. Anna, want to go with me? I can use some company.”
She instantly rose to her feet. Kendra gave me an inquiring look, and Emma also stood. “I want to go, too.”
“No, I want you to stay with Kendra. One little girl at a time is all I can handle.”
“I want to go,” Emma insisted.
They had seldom been apart since we found them, and I had no reason to separate them. I looked at Anna, and she gave me the slightest shake of her head, a movement so small others looking directly at her may not have noticed. I said, “No, you stay this time. I’ll take you next.”
Emma furrowed her eyebrows.
*No,” Anna silently told me with enough emotion to almost stagger me.
Before there could be any more discussion, I headed down the stairs, Anna at my heels. We used the trapdoor, and I used my magic to light the flame of the candle. There were fewer spider webs, and we moved quickly. At the far end, we climbed the stairs up into the barn, then another set of stairs that took us to the second floor and into a vacant apartment with all the heavy curtains pulled closed.
I went to the rear and looked out to where I couldn’t see the ship because of the buildings, but I could see the main street leading to it was filled with soldiers who were now splitting into smaller groups and hurrying apart. Others were arriving. As I watched, they began a house-to-house search. The search was still several blocks away, so we had time. A little. And Anna’s request to talk to me alone seemed important to her.
“You wanted to speak with me? Alone?” I asked, my eyes still on the activity of the soldiers.
“Alone. Now I don’t know what to say or how to start.”
I turned and faced a very serious twelve-year-old, and despite the dangers all around us, I expected her to ask if boys liked her or if I thought she was pretty. I should have known better, living with a pair of strong women almost my whole life, but children bring out the sense that I’m so much smarter than them that their concerns are often humorous. They are more attuned to the feelings of others than men, which is to say that we lack a form of empathy.
Anticipating what was to come caused a smile to form. I was so smart.
She placed her hands on her hips and spat at me, “Are you going to take me seriously or stand there with that stupid grin on your face?”
I got rid of the smile. Whatever it was, she seemed more upset than I expected and perhaps I should listen. Perhaps. What a stupid thought. I turned back to the window for a quick check, then gave her my full attention. “Okay, what is it?”
“Emma.”
“Is she bothering you in some way?” I feared Emma was using her magic to torment her older sister again in some fashion. I knew how to do that from the first-hand experience and could quickly end it.
“No. Not directly,” she said hesitantly. “But there is something you should know, and I think it’s why she wanted to come with us so badly. She does not want me to be alone with you.”
I glanced out the rear window again and watched more troops fan out for their searches. It made me impatient, but I said, “I don’t understand. Is she jealous?”
“No. I don’t know how to explain, so I’m just going to just say it. Remember the day you found us in the storm?”
“Of course. It was a terrible day.”
“I heard the storm was caused by a mage. Is that true?” she asked.
“I think so. My guess is that it was. Why does it matter?”
“Why would a mage make such a storm? Right at that time? Have you asked yourself that?”
“No,” I admitted, but had thought about it several times.
She closed her eyes and remained silent for so long I thought she was finished speaking, but she opened them and looked directly at me, then reached out and took both of my hands in hers, the first time she’d made such a gesture. Her eyes watered, and tears threatened to fall. She spoke rushed, as if afraid to tell me. “Damon, I cannot remember a single thing about Emma before that day. I remember eating meals with my mother and father, but never with her at the table. I played with another little girl when small, but not Emma.”
“What are you saying?”
Her small hands squeezed mine. “I am saying I cannot ever remember Emma before the day of the storm. Things were put in my mind that sort of made it seem like I knew her, that we were sisters, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she is not my sister.”
“How can that be?” I stuttered.
“I’m just twelve. You tell me how I cannot remember a single time when the four of us were together, my parents, her, and me. Not once. I went shopping with my mother, but it was only her and me. Emma was never there. Our house had two rooms for sleeping, a large one for my parents, a tiny one that used to be a closet was converted for me. There was no other room for Emma to sleep in, and mine was too small for two.”
She was still on the verge of tears, awaiting my response and probably my rejection at such an idea. I said, “Maybe you are not sisters. Maybe you were just traveling with Emma. Your mother could have been watching over her when the storm struck.”
“Emma says we are sisters.”
I waited for more.
“Emma does not eat. She pretends but does not. She hides her food and throws it away when nobody is looking. I am not crazy and want you to believe me.”
Her request to believe her was not as farfetched as she might think. I’d met the Blue Lady a few times and felt fear as a sour taste in my mouth. My hands started shaking. I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. Yet, as my mind wrapped around several past events, it might be true. No, it was true. I was certain.
Emma was an apparition, or whatever the right word would be. She was like the Blue Lady, but a better projection. The more I thought of it, the more I realized the scowls, the frowns, the response to my offer to help her with the language. Touching her mind had been like poison. Almost evil.
The more I thought about it, the more I was revolted. The more I knew Anna was right. Emma was our enemy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Princess Elizabeth
“You cannot treat a princess like this,” I said as I pounded my fist on the pommel of the saddle as if I was a spoiled brat of a princess. It was a demonstration intended for him, to make him think I was weak, so he would relax, and I could escape.
He laughed and tossed me the water flask he’d had to his lips a moment earlier. Despite that, I was thirsty and refused to give him the satisfaction of wiping the mouth of the container before using it. He was baiting me. Trying to get me to react.
That was his error. He believed that because he stood a head taller and was a man, he could force me to do what he wanted. He hadn’t made any sexual advances, and that only told me he’d been ordered not to. But he was allowed to beat me within reason. Not kill me, just beat and torture—as if that was better.
The man was crude, rough, and determined to convince himself he was as good as me. His overconfidence would be his downfall. Not today. He was ready for me to fight back and he was anxious to display his strength, but it wouldn’t happen.