Palatine First (The Aurelian Archives) by Courtney Grace Powers

you back to the house. You too, Gideon, so long as…” He hesitated, ticking the wand between his fingers.
    Gideon looked up with interest from the hunk of gear-laden machinery he’d dislodged from the belly of his bim. “So long as what?”
    Despite how immersed Gid often got in his work, Reece got the feeling he’d been listening, and wondered how it had all struck him—him, whose parents had both been killed in Panteda’s war.
    “Well, last time you came to stay, you taught Sophie about throwing knives, and Father’s been a little concerned about our eating utensils all gone missing…”
     
     
    It wasn’t home, but The Estate at Emathia was something to look at, that was for sure.
    Reece draped his elbows over his bim’s handles and drew a deep breath. The Honoran country air was sweet, full of autumn smells, dying leaves, ripe vineyards, busy chimneys. The brick-laid drive before him stretched a straight half mile, edged by towering oaks bearing bouquets of red, gold, and brown leaves.
    Set against those colors, the mansion at the end of the drive jarred the eye. A deep teal, it had red and white shingles patterned in swirls, red roof crestings, and white banisters along all three of its elaborate balconies. Its two chimneys stretched like fingers into the sky; its bay windows, huge and trimmed in deep purple, were made of stained glass. Excess was the key to being royalty, apparently.
    Starting his engine up again, Reece glanced sideways at Gideon on his bim. The Pan wouldn’t be getting a warm reception no matter what, but it might help that he had changed out of his grungy gun shop dunnage and into a brown leather waistcoat that fit too snugly to hide any guns. A small green military ribbon was pinned to his chest pocket. On the other side of him, Hayden was wearing his ratty brown jacket, a riding cap, and his oversized goggles. Reece sighed.
    They rolled up the drive together in a noisy line, the shadows of the oaks flickering over them like moving pictures in a kinema. Two of the royal wolfdogs, Midas and Hera, loped along through the grass, barking and howling. The breeze was cool, pushing Reece’s muddy brown hair out of his eyes.
    At the foot of the mansion, three servants in matching white jumpsuits hurried forward to park the bims in the motorvehicle stables. Reece briefly hesitated beneath the stairs winding down from either side of the front doors, then charged them, taking the steps two at a time with Hayden and Gideon close on his heels. Sometimes it was best to just get this part over with. He threw one of the doors open, stepped into the parlor, and stared.
    His eyes normally would’ve gone to the chandelier overhead made of black and red stained glass, or to the swanky throw rugs cast over the hardwood floors, or the grand piano. Paintings that cost as much as a decent education, antique paperbound books confined to glass cases, tall love seats upholstered in fine jacquard and velvet.
    All he saw was Liem, chatting with Abigail near the tall fireplace, a saucer and a cup of tea in his hands. And the girl standing with them.
    Abigail looked as stately as ever in a purple dress and bustle, her cold eyes mostly hidden behind the black veil on her feathered monstrosity of a hat. Liem’s fine grey suit with its banded collar and ivory gloves was, as Gid would say, “dirt near princely”. As for the girl standing with them…
    …she could have been a Pan. Lank black hair fell down her back, and her skin was pale white. She was dressed like a Westerner, with her skirt hitched up to her knees, showing off scuffed workboots. She was running her thumb along the edge of the necklace she wore close against her neck, like a black ribbon.
    “Reece Benjamin.” Abigail surveyed him from behind her veil, pursing her lips. Liem jumped as if she’d shouted and sloshed his tea. “What have I told you about bringing the dogs in the front door?”
    Realizing he was gaping like a numpty, Reece pulled