Chapter One
I froze.
Why? Why is she here of all places?
My eyes traced her lithe movements through the glass front of the shop as she approached. There was no way I could slip out before she got here.
Mother was one of only four people in existence who knew my face. My true face. If she saw me here, a place I was most decidedly not supposed to be, I would be severely punished. Not just me, either. Others would feel it too.
I have to run.
The beginnings of panic crept through my limbs as my gaze shifted to the back of the shop.
“Hey, Jack?” I called to the middle-aged apothecary, rapping my knuckles on the counter.
He turned my direction. “What’s up?”
“I’ll, um… I’ll be back to pick up my order later.”
He tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “But your teas are almost ready. I just have to—"
“Something’s come up.” Turning, I waved. “Gotta go. Thanks again.”
The bell above the door jingled.
Shit.
My blood ran cold as the familiar staccato of high heels echoed across the store. Reaching into my messenger bag, I pulled out my ball cap. Snugging it firmly on my head, I moved away from the counter. Luckily, there were a few others in the shop.
Tucking my head, my feet carried me to a group of teenage girls admiring some love potions. The pretty little concoctions didn’t work, but these chittering girls didn’t know that. Absorbed in their shopping experience, they didn’t seem to care how uncomfortably close I’d placed myself.
With a slight tremble in my hands, I plucked a small bottle from the shelf—certain everyone in the room could hear the rapid beat of my heart.
“I’ve heard you are the best in the city.” The sharp edge of Mother’s voice made me shiver.
Exhaling slowly, I focused on keeping my breathing even. It was remarkable, the amount of fear this woman inspired in me. In everyone, really.
“You honor me, Magnate,” came Jack’s reply, a nervous quake in his voice.
Shooting a glance at the door, my eyes lit on two of my mother's guards that had positioned themselves on either side. They wouldn’t recognize me, but I was still too nervous to chance it. I didn’t look like I usually did, since I wasn’t wearing my amulet—but I still looked like her. Enough so, that it might spark some notice or a closer look on their part.
I can’t be noticed.
After pretending to scrutinize a label, my fingers gently placed the tiny bottle back on the shelf. The girls teased one another about the potions, with no idea of the danger in the room. A flutter from above caught my eye as I looked up to spot an actual potion, sitting in a decanter on the top shelf. It resembled liquid mercury as it churned, with bubbles that rose and turned purple when they reached the air and popped. Not one of the girls paid it any mind.
When it came to real magic, regular humans were oblivious. Even if a mage were to perform a spell right before their eyes, their minds wouldn’t process it as magic. Instead, their brains would come up with some exceptional lie to explain it all away, sometimes even forgetting the entire episode altogether.
“Apothecary,” Mother addressed him. “I need to imbue an item with an illusion. You can do that, yes?”
Sounded like she was up to her usual tricks. I pitied the poor soul who would be her target this time, but I couldn’t think about that right now. What I needed to do—was get the hell out of here.
“It’s… a complicated process, and it’s not always perfect,” Jack answered.
“I’m aware.”
“If you’ll follow me, please, Magnate Victoria,” Jack said.
Once more, stilettos struck the floor, marking her departure to the back room. My eyes caught a glimpse just as the door closed, her slim frame always the picture of cruel elegance.
Time to go.
With my head tucked once more, I made my move, striding quickly toward the exit. Rounding a corner, I slid to an abrupt halt, stumbling backward as I bounced off a huge chest. It could only be one guy—Alan, Mother’s head bodyguard.
Curse words flitted through my mind as I kept my gaze low, not daring to make eye contact. With his arms folded, I could see the tattoos decorating his knuckles, confirming his identity. I knew those knuckles.
Why couldn’t I have waited a few more seconds?
“Sorry,” I mumbled, moving past.
Alan’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my upper arm—his grip like a vice. Blood pounded so loudly in my ears that I missed whatever he said, his gruff voice giving the impression of an angry canine.
“What?” I asked, finally looking up at him. The familiar features of his bald head and sinister glare brought with them a flood of bad memories.
He bent toward me, close enough that I could feel his hot breath on my face. “I said, where are you running off to?”
He doesn’t recognize me…right?
With my stomach in my throat, my mind worked through all the possible answers to that question.
“I’m late. For…an appointment,” I answered carefully, my heart still thundering.
He stared at me for a long moment, stooping even closer to peer into my eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he grunted. Flinging my arm away, he said, “Go then.”
Don’t need to tell me twice.
Only seconds passed before I was throwing open the door, propelling myself past the second guard without a backward glance. My heart continued to bang away at my ribs until I turned the corner onto the next block.
Finally, out of view, I slid to a stop. Sagging against a brick wall, I put my hands on my knees, taking in large gulps of air.
Unable to stop myself, a laugh bubbled out.
Well, that just happened.
“Hello, daughter.” My father’s stern voice carried across the large room where I sat a few days later. It happened to be the lounge on the twenty-third floor—one of many in my parents’ massive New York high-rise. Father had his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored slacks. Beneath my disguise, I had the same dark shade of hair and crystal blue eyes.
My gaze traversed the sparsely populated room.
He can’t possibly be talking to me, but I’m his only daughter—so, here we are.
“Hello, daddy dearest. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Reluctantly, I put down the book I was reading. My father never fell for the overly sweet facade I typically portrayed for others of the court, so I dropped it. We had an unspoken understanding where he never ratted me out for pretending, and I avoided him at all costs.
Whatever he wanted, it wouldn’t be good.
“I don’t need to stress on you the importance of behaving when our allies arrive in a few days for trade negotiations,” he said.
“I agree. You do not,” I replied, folding my arms.
He nodded.
Why is he being so agreeable?
I usually felt his disdain as if he’d dropped a bucket of it over my head.
“And Isla?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to keep your eyes open. Things are changing, and you need to be paying attention.” After a brief pause, he nodded once and strode away.
“Well, that was utterly bizarre,” I mumbled to myself as I continued to stare at the doorway. Was that a warning? It had to be a trap, surely. My father had never considered my well-being in his entire life. Quite the opposite, since he was usually present for my ‘reconditioning’, as Mother often called it.