stuffed into her mind by the mysterious curse. Judd waited, as always giving the impression of endless patience combined with a certain disdain for her presence. Daria had once commented that servants were, if anything, even more snobbish than their masters. Judd certainly seemed to actively disapprove of Elaine’s presence. But then, who was she really? Nothing more than an orphan girl whose parents were mysteries and whose magical talent was hardly worth considering. If Lord Howarth had hoped that she would grow into something useful, he’d been bitterly disappointed.
“I’ve come to see my Guardian,” Elaine said, fighting to keep her voice steady. The same laws that insisted orphans had to have protectors from among the aristocracy also insisted that the orphan had the right to see her Guardian whenever she chose, but Lord Howarth had never considered himself bound by the rules. “I trust that he will see me?”
Judd seemed to consider, and then he bowed, using one great hand to invite her into the mansion. Elaine felt a trickle running down her back as she stepped inside, leaving Judd behind her to close the door, before he walked past her and down the long corridor. The first time she’d visited the mansion, Judd had given her a lecture on how everything in the building was charmed to prevent anyone from taking it off the premises – as if he’d expected her to be a thief! Now, with adult eyes, Elaine could see just how tacky most of the assembled valuables actually were, although that wouldn’t stop them from being worth more than her entire yearly salary. Lord Howarth’s family had been determined to acquire more material goods than anyone else and never give anything up. She paused to study a tiny golden statue of one of the gods, before a cough from Judd drew her back down the corridor. Lord Howarth had never been particularly religious. Elaine couldn’t remember ever having seen him entering a temple.
The butler paused outside a heavy stone door and knocked once. It swung open, revealing a study that had been designed for Lord Howarth’s father, a man who had been genuinely interested in the books he collected before his untimely death. Elaine had wanted to read some of the volumes on the shelves, but naturally she’d never been allowed to soil them with her grubby orphan hands. They weren’t books on magic, or they would have been examined by the Great Library after the Lord’s death. He’d been more interested in genealogy than magic. But all of his breeding hadn’t stopped him from drinking himself to death.
“Elaine,” a voice said. Lord Maxim Howarth was sprawled over one of his father’s couches, studying a leaflet from the racing tracks. There were all kinds of magical safeguards built into the fields to prevent cheating, all of which could be subverted with the correct spell. Elaine wondered just what her Guardian would say if he knew that she could ensure that his chosen horses always won, before pushing the thought aside. She’d never been that desperate for his approval. “I was...relieved to hear of your recovery.”
Tradition dictated that Elaine should go down on her knees before him, but a strength she didn’t know she had kept her upright. Lord Maxim Howarth wasn’t more than ten years older than her, yet he looked almost old enough to be her father. He’d been slim when she’d first seen him, but now even the most expert tailoring in the world couldn’t disguise his growing paunch or the lines on his face. His dark hair was thinning out and his eyes were too bright, a mark of some of the more complex – and illegal – potions he took to entertain himself. Some of them were banned even to people of his rank, which was probably why he wanted them. He’d always considered himself above the law.
“I am glad to hear it,” Elaine said, with equal insincerity. The law stated that her Guardian should continue to interest himself in her well-being until she married or
“I’ve come to see my Guardian,” Elaine said, fighting to keep her voice steady. The same laws that insisted orphans had to have protectors from among the aristocracy also insisted that the orphan had the right to see her Guardian whenever she chose, but Lord Howarth had never considered himself bound by the rules. “I trust that he will see me?”
Judd seemed to consider, and then he bowed, using one great hand to invite her into the mansion. Elaine felt a trickle running down her back as she stepped inside, leaving Judd behind her to close the door, before he walked past her and down the long corridor. The first time she’d visited the mansion, Judd had given her a lecture on how everything in the building was charmed to prevent anyone from taking it off the premises – as if he’d expected her to be a thief! Now, with adult eyes, Elaine could see just how tacky most of the assembled valuables actually were, although that wouldn’t stop them from being worth more than her entire yearly salary. Lord Howarth’s family had been determined to acquire more material goods than anyone else and never give anything up. She paused to study a tiny golden statue of one of the gods, before a cough from Judd drew her back down the corridor. Lord Howarth had never been particularly religious. Elaine couldn’t remember ever having seen him entering a temple.
The butler paused outside a heavy stone door and knocked once. It swung open, revealing a study that had been designed for Lord Howarth’s father, a man who had been genuinely interested in the books he collected before his untimely death. Elaine had wanted to read some of the volumes on the shelves, but naturally she’d never been allowed to soil them with her grubby orphan hands. They weren’t books on magic, or they would have been examined by the Great Library after the Lord’s death. He’d been more interested in genealogy than magic. But all of his breeding hadn’t stopped him from drinking himself to death.
“Elaine,” a voice said. Lord Maxim Howarth was sprawled over one of his father’s couches, studying a leaflet from the racing tracks. There were all kinds of magical safeguards built into the fields to prevent cheating, all of which could be subverted with the correct spell. Elaine wondered just what her Guardian would say if he knew that she could ensure that his chosen horses always won, before pushing the thought aside. She’d never been that desperate for his approval. “I was...relieved to hear of your recovery.”
Tradition dictated that Elaine should go down on her knees before him, but a strength she didn’t know she had kept her upright. Lord Maxim Howarth wasn’t more than ten years older than her, yet he looked almost old enough to be her father. He’d been slim when she’d first seen him, but now even the most expert tailoring in the world couldn’t disguise his growing paunch or the lines on his face. His dark hair was thinning out and his eyes were too bright, a mark of some of the more complex – and illegal – potions he took to entertain himself. Some of them were banned even to people of his rank, which was probably why he wanted them. He’d always considered himself above the law.
“I am glad to hear it,” Elaine said, with equal insincerity. The law stated that her Guardian should continue to interest himself in her well-being until she married or
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