opened up by
the charm’s deep magic. He struck the tuning fork against his palm and then
laid the end against the meat of his thumb, which never failed to ground him
and open up his magical senses.
Alex let himself drift aimlessly through the
house’s background noise, recognising several of the larger wards as he picked
them out of the cacophony as ones he’d already heard when he was here before.
The room he was in had a number of little charms on it, for cleanliness and to
gently discourage guests from lingering — that one sounded to his inner ear like
tin cups jangling against each other. There was a phial of potion in the
medicine cupboard, a cheap but effective sobering solution that seemed to be nearing
its expiration date. That one had a faint, bright melody, like a brass band to
wake the senses from their stupor.
There was a faint memory of the cleaning staff
amongst the other music, no one Alex had met but definitely people, all the
same. At least one of the other suitors had been in here as well, someone with
a lot of magic on his person, and those traces, too, added to the din. As Alex
catalogued each thread of music or dissonance, he could dismiss them from his
attention and go deeper, finding the subtler, more pervasive spells lurking
beneath.
The whole house had been given a gentle
blessing for luck and prosperity some time ago, and the glow of it was nearly
faded. Alex made a note to arrange for it to be renewed as a wedding present,
should Julian still be speaking to him after he solved his mystery and dropped
out of the Courtship.
Beneath that there was the spell he’d been
looking for, a thin, buzzing sound that reminded him of bees, ordered but not
in any way his human mind could normally process. What bothered him most was
how familiar it seemed, once he got past the feel of it that raised hairs on
the back of his neck. It was like a face he couldn’t quite remember, or having
a word on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn’t quite call forth. He
hummed along for a few moments, but that only made the feeling worse, so he let
it go, stilling the tuning fork and whistling a quick little mind-clearing
cantrip.
He stood and glanced around the room, made sure
everything on his person was in order from watch to waistcoat, then let the
jangling tin-can spell urge him back out to the party. Another suitor had taken
O’Connor’s place, Leslie Winston-Smythe, who’d been seated on Willoughby’s
other side. “Poor Julian’s got to be just about exhausted after all of
this,” said Alex idly.
The bartender looked surprised to be spoken to
as something other than a vending machine. “Master Julian will appreciate
the three days’ grace before the first date, I’m sure.”
Alex smiled to himself and nodded. “Is he not
much of a party boy, then?”
The bartender chuckled fondly. “Nah, our
Julian always was a homebody, picking apples and eating them in the
library.”
“I always liked the window seat up on the
third floor, where no one went but me and the maids,” said Alex, amused,
“though I filched my snacks from the kitchen.”
The bartender chuckled. “I bet you charmed
‘em, you’ve got that way about you,” he said, and Alex glanced back to
find the man was looking him over. Subtly, but the admiration was there, and
Alex blushed a little.
“Sometimes, though the head chef never
liked me much,” admitted Alex. He might have said more, but it was time
for another suitor. Every eye watched the remaining four men as the servant
made his way to Auggie Duckworth, and Winston-Smythe made his way to the bar
for another drink, which seemed to be an unspoken tradition.
Alex winked at the bartender and took his
leave, but he had plenty of food for thought — it was clear that Julian was
much loved among the long-time staff, and not much more for high society than
Alex himself. That cut down on the number of people who might have known Julian
well enough to believe that their
the charm’s deep magic. He struck the tuning fork against his palm and then
laid the end against the meat of his thumb, which never failed to ground him
and open up his magical senses.
Alex let himself drift aimlessly through the
house’s background noise, recognising several of the larger wards as he picked
them out of the cacophony as ones he’d already heard when he was here before.
The room he was in had a number of little charms on it, for cleanliness and to
gently discourage guests from lingering — that one sounded to his inner ear like
tin cups jangling against each other. There was a phial of potion in the
medicine cupboard, a cheap but effective sobering solution that seemed to be nearing
its expiration date. That one had a faint, bright melody, like a brass band to
wake the senses from their stupor.
There was a faint memory of the cleaning staff
amongst the other music, no one Alex had met but definitely people, all the
same. At least one of the other suitors had been in here as well, someone with
a lot of magic on his person, and those traces, too, added to the din. As Alex
catalogued each thread of music or dissonance, he could dismiss them from his
attention and go deeper, finding the subtler, more pervasive spells lurking
beneath.
The whole house had been given a gentle
blessing for luck and prosperity some time ago, and the glow of it was nearly
faded. Alex made a note to arrange for it to be renewed as a wedding present,
should Julian still be speaking to him after he solved his mystery and dropped
out of the Courtship.
Beneath that there was the spell he’d been
looking for, a thin, buzzing sound that reminded him of bees, ordered but not
in any way his human mind could normally process. What bothered him most was
how familiar it seemed, once he got past the feel of it that raised hairs on
the back of his neck. It was like a face he couldn’t quite remember, or having
a word on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn’t quite call forth. He
hummed along for a few moments, but that only made the feeling worse, so he let
it go, stilling the tuning fork and whistling a quick little mind-clearing
cantrip.
He stood and glanced around the room, made sure
everything on his person was in order from watch to waistcoat, then let the
jangling tin-can spell urge him back out to the party. Another suitor had taken
O’Connor’s place, Leslie Winston-Smythe, who’d been seated on Willoughby’s
other side. “Poor Julian’s got to be just about exhausted after all of
this,” said Alex idly.
The bartender looked surprised to be spoken to
as something other than a vending machine. “Master Julian will appreciate
the three days’ grace before the first date, I’m sure.”
Alex smiled to himself and nodded. “Is he not
much of a party boy, then?”
The bartender chuckled fondly. “Nah, our
Julian always was a homebody, picking apples and eating them in the
library.”
“I always liked the window seat up on the
third floor, where no one went but me and the maids,” said Alex, amused,
“though I filched my snacks from the kitchen.”
The bartender chuckled. “I bet you charmed
‘em, you’ve got that way about you,” he said, and Alex glanced back to
find the man was looking him over. Subtly, but the admiration was there, and
Alex blushed a little.
“Sometimes, though the head chef never
liked me much,” admitted Alex. He might have said more, but it was time
for another suitor. Every eye watched the remaining four men as the servant
made his way to Auggie Duckworth, and Winston-Smythe made his way to the bar
for another drink, which seemed to be an unspoken tradition.
Alex winked at the bartender and took his
leave, but he had plenty of food for thought — it was clear that Julian was
much loved among the long-time staff, and not much more for high society than
Alex himself. That cut down on the number of people who might have known Julian
well enough to believe that their
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