CHAPTER TWELVE

Fallon

I did not let out a breath until she was high in the air, a retreating speck. Around me I was aware of voices, incoherent interference in the distance, as I struggled to switch my mind back to English—whether those voices were those of human minds or tongues, I could not tell. I could barely even think.

Suicide. Any fool could see that she was not happy. But there was a huge, cavernous cut in emotion between unhappiness and . . . and . . . that. Between dejection and despair; between discontent and utterly losing the will to even live.

A surge of adrenaline passed through me. There was no way she should be alone; not in the state she was in now.

I tossed my bag from my shoulder; it disappeared before it reached the ground. I was supposed to have a math lesson that afternoon, and catch-up afterward, and leaving would mean abandoning my car until the next day, but none of that mattered. School wasn’t why I was here.

Knowing she wouldn’t hang about, I took to the air in pursuit, praying she intended to go home. But when I’d risen far above the campus, there was no sign of her, and when I expanded my consciousness out, hoping to touch upon her own, I found nothing. Making a split-second decision, I headed over the river, wondering how she could have disappeared in less than half a minute.

When the town came into view, I searched for the church and graveyard we had passed when I had dropped her off. To my complete relief, frantically walking through the graveyard was the young duchess. I waited until she had passed through the gate in the dry stone wall, and then dropped to the ground behind the church tower.

She didn’t hang around once she reached the lane—though she didn’t push herself as far as her magic would allow but moderated herself to a jog. I took after her as quietly as I could; cursing the crunch of the gravel path and opting for the grass verge instead, weaving between the graves. All around, wilting flowers lay in mildewed jars.

I halted at the gate and waited for her to reach the top of the hill at the path’s end, where I could just make out the cottages and their tiny doors giving way to the vast branches of a maple tree. When she crossed the summit, I broke out into a jog, too, and quickly emerged at the turning she had directed us to the week before. On the other side of the road, I could see her diving between the unruly shrubs in her yard and hear the slam of a front door.

I let out a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t let her be alone, not with those thoughts running through her mind.

Yet when I reached the opposite sidewalk, something made me pause. There were no gates, or guards, or lodges, but I was acutelyaware, as I passed the sign bearing the avenue’s name, that this was her territory and that I was trespassing. It was like being a kid again, trying to steal apples from the crown orchards; they were not fenced and we were never told not to go there, but we knew that what we were doing was wrong.

I took a few cautious steps and glanced around nervously. It had been a long time since I had walked around a neighborhood alone and unguarded.

I stopped when I reached the edge of her front yard. It wasn’t an unpleasant house—it was quite charming in a small, rustic sort of way—but it was hard to believe that the duchy of England, with all their wealth and property, lived here; much easier to imagine the field day the paparazzi would have if they knew the details of their lifestyle choice.

I gripped the pointed post of the white picket fence. It was common knowledge the House of Al-Summers had always rejected pomp, but this . . . this I had never expected.

Then I noticed something that made my blood run cold. In the driveway were two cars.

It took a minute for my heart to stop racing. I knew her parents worked away in London. It had never for one moment occurred to me that they might actually be home for her.

I shook my head and let out a sharp breath. She was not alone. I could go. Yet at the same time, it seemed like a perfect opportunity. Human or not, her parents were nobility, and I would have to introduce myself at some point. It would be an advantageous move.

But even as I placed my hand on the gate, I knew that I could not do it. I could not face them, look them in the eyes and shake her father’s hand. Guilt—for now, at least—prevented me from intruding upon their lives any further.

I looked up at the house, half expecting, half hoping—but knowing it would be better if I didn’t—to see a flash of gold. There was nothing.

She is safe now. Her parents will take care of her.

And so I let go of the gate, turned, and walked away.

“If your mind is anything to go by, I’d say you’d been to dinner with a vampire, and you were the main course.

I did not reply. Behind my closed eyelids all was dark.

“Fal, I’m your cousin. What is it?”

“You remember Autumn Rose as a child, right? How would you describe her?”

“Confident, pretentious, bossy maybe. Good talker.”

“Yes. She was. But that is not the wreck I’m at school with. That is not the girl we came here for.”

There was a pause. “It’s this place, Fal. It’s godforsaken.”