"Please pass my regards to the good mage," said the man driving the runed motor.
Madeleine nodded and made a polite response as Seiren hopped out. It took only one attempt to find someone willing to drive them to the Woodbead house and he did so willingly, without even discussion of cost. That, combined with the cluster of fresh flowers and careful letters folded against the high steel fence surrounding the place, made Seiren glad: at least Maura would be satisfied to know the Woodbead name remained revered as before.
'House' was an understatement of the place. The sprawling Woodbead mansion reminded Seiren of how the formerly-illustrious Fernard house in Hartley must have looked in its glory days, where she'd looked after a sickly boy with end-stage heart failure in exchange for war funds. Made of red bricks with matching red-tiled roofs, it stared down at her with a haughty air reminiscent of proud and accomplished Maura Woodbead, whose body Madeleine now inhabited after Maura's death. The grass beneath Seiren's boots was trimmed and a deep green, with not a weed or flower in sight. She made her way up the stone-paved steps, running her hand along the polished, gleaming black banisters, and paused outside the double wooden doors with the shining golden knocker: a roaring tiger with the ring looping through its open jaws.
"We should have sent a messenger pigeon beforehand," said Madeleine in a small voice, equally awed by the grandeur. Piles of fresh flowers and tribute lay before the double doors. It was silent behind the doors. Sucking in a breath, Seiren grasped the knocker and slammed it three times before stepping back. The echo died away. Seiren plucked at the runes tucked into the pockets of her black cloak, shifting on her feet.
A series of clicks sounded from behind the door before it swung open, revealing a middle-aged maid in a grey uniform and white apron, with a surprised expression on her face. She caught sight of Seiren's state mage cloak before her eyes darted to her face, and then to Madeleine's.
"The Harred twins!" she exclaimed. Seiren exchanged a taken aback look with Madeleine.
"You... know of us?" Madeleine said.
"Everyone knows about you, after what happened in Benover! Mage Haigh has been keeping all the military personnel up to date and, of course, House Woodbead has always been part ofâ" The maid broke off, a sheepish look on her face. "My apologies, mages. I got carried away. Of course, you must be aware of all this. My name is Sairsha and I'm the lead maid at House Woodbead."
Her eyes caught sight of the mound of flowers at Seiren and Madeleine's feet and her face fell. "Oh dear. I've been telling the city folk not to keep giving these. They upset Master Rowan and we really have no need for so many flowers. I'll get my girls to tidy them up later... Won't you come in?"
Seiren stepped in, allowing Sairsha to take her cloak and hang it in the corner. Her boots clacked on the wooden floorboards. Sweeping stairs stretched on either side of the hall before her leading up to the first floor. A polished chandelier, lit by yellow runes, hung in the middle of the ceiling, bathing the place in a sharp white glow. Seiren had forgotten how rich the Woodbeads were, being an esteemed military family producing quality services to the country for generations.
"Allow me to show you to the guest room. Is Master Rowan expecting you?"
Seiren exchanged an uneasy look with Madeleine as Sairsha led them past stone statues of proud heroes â probably previous Woodbead greats â and elaborate plants in huge pots down a corridor. One side of the wall was made of glass, showing one of the smaller gardens with neat topiary and a statue of a general sitting atop a rearing horse in the middle.
"Um, no. We come... uninvited."
"Ah."
Sairsha paused and turned to face them, frowning. The painting immediately beside her was definitely of a Woodbead, bearing proud military medals and the same haughty look Maura Woodbead used to wear as if she could shred anyone offending her with a gaze alone.
"My apologies if I come across rude or presumptuous, but I don't think Master Rowan will see you if you haven't made an appointment."
"What, are we not good enough?"
Madeleine elbowed her.
"It's not that, Mage. Master Rowan hasn't been seeing any of his appointments. He hasn't left the house in months. He barely eats. We keep the house going, but, honestly, I think you've made a wasted trip. There is still daylight â there's still time for you to catch the next train back to Benover."
"I'm not coming all the way here to be waved away because he's too lazy to see us."
"Of course, I shall inform him of your arrival." Sairsha inclined her head. "Please take a seat in here. Just... please don't be offended if he declines an audience."
She showed them into a high-ceilinged room with a kaleidoscope of stained glass at the top parts of the windows. Plush scarlet chairs sat in the centre around a polished mahogany desk. Madeleine perched neatly on one of the armchairs. Seiren sauntered around, running her hand over the shiny wooden cabinets, the little round tables, the shelves of age-old magical tomes, and studied the ancient family paintings. Given the peeling paint despite evidence of restoration with violet runes and the old-fashioned outfits depicted, they must be at least a century old.
Seeing the long history of greatness, Seiren could see why Maura held such high regard for family honour. Woodbead meant excellence, and failure compromised that excellence.
Seiren was studying the grim face of one of Rowan's ancestors when the door edged open again. Rowan's black hair was almost as long as Seiren's from last year and stuck up at all angles as if he'd spent weeks running his hand through it and not washed it at all. Dark circles sat beneath Rowan's blue-green eyes. His cheeks sank in and his lips were chapped. He looked smaller than ever, his frame swamped in a grey dressing gown, even though Seiren was sure she hadn't grown.
"You shouldn't be here." Even his voice sounded years older.
"We need to talk," said Seiren, facing him.
"Leave."
To Seiren's surprise, Rowan shook his head and shut the door behind him. Mouth dropping open, Seiren marched across and threw the door open. Rowan didn't even turn at the sound, continuing to shuffle like an old man down the corridor.
"Get your short ass back here, Rowan Woodbead!"
He stiffened at her words, but he didn't stop. Seiren stormed over and wrenched him around. Exhausted, empty eyes stared at her.
"What do you want?"
"I need your help."
"Can't help you."
"You didn't even hear me out!" Seiren couldn't believe her eyes. He was a far cry from the chirpy, optimistic tutor she'd first met â and hated â over a year ago. She could barely recognise this little grey shadow. "Kristen Harred escaped her execution."
She could have been speaking in Moakaian. Rowan didn't bat an eyelid.
"She escaped! The Hannans whisked her away just when Kommora was going to apply the death rune!" Unable to believe his ambivalence, Seiren shook him. "Do you hear what I said?!"
"I hear you," he muttered. "I just don't know what you expect me to do."
"Help me! Tell me what to do!"
"You've been pretty good at doing that yourself. You don't need me."
Seiren let out an exasperated groan, running a hand through her own blonde hair, which had grown longer over the past months and she hadn't yet had a chance to cut it short again. She could sense Madeleine watching her from the doorway. She breathed through her nose, calming her irritation. Rowan was grieving. She went through the same thing when she was twelve when her family was murdered. She should know what it was like to be in his shoes.
"I know what you're going through, all right?" she said, the awkwardness making her cheeks flush. "It's hard, being alone, not knowing what to do, what you're supposed to do next â or if there's any point. But there is. People still need you. It took me years to finally see that light at the end of the tunnel, butâ"
"If it took you years, why do you seem to expect me to recover as if nothing happened when only five months ago, I lost my best friend, my older sister, and my father?"
Seiren let go as if scorched.
"You can shut yourself away, Rowan Woodbead, but you can't stop time from moving ahead. Kristen's going to come back and sacrifice Karma again to revive celestial magic, and the Council's hands are tied."
Silence. Seiren was seized by a sudden overwhelming urge to slap some sense into him. Her hand flew back. A hand clamped over her wrist. She turned to see Madeleine wearing a forlorn smile.
"I'm sorry we came uninvited during such a difficult time." Her voice was calm, collected. "Seiren had hoped to get some help, but I can see this is a bad time. We'd rather you look after yourself first. Like Seiren said â less eloquently, I'll admit â we've been through similar, so we'll be there for you if you want our help, but we won't force you to do anything you don't want to."
She slipped a hand around Seiren's arm, clamping her to her side.
"I'm sorry for all you've gone through. They were all good people. We'll be grateful for your help when you're ready. Right now, I have my most important personâ" She gave Seiren a squeeze. "âto protect, and, by runes, we both know how prone to disaster she isâ"
Rowan looked anywhere but at Madeleine. He held up a hand to stop her.
"Every time I look at you, I see her," he said in a hoarse voice. Madeleine froze. Seiren sucked in a breath. Of course. Madeleine might look just like Seiren now, but no doubt small traces of Maura still remained, enough to remind Rowan whose body Madeleine now inhabited.
"I'm sorry for barging in, again. Please excuse us."
Madeleine dragged Seiren out of the corridor, where an anxious Sairsha waited for the outcome. Madeleine expressed their need to leave. Sairsha helped them into their cloaks and saw them out. Seiren turned her head just before they left the driveway; Sairsha was still watching them before she went out of sight.
"I know what we can do, Maddy."
There was a brief pause before Madeleine turned to Seiren with a teasing smile. "And what's that, my genius sister?"
They waited at the carriage stop for a ride back to the train station. The place was empty, surrounded by tall trees with spindly leaves. The mud sank beneath her boots, wet from a bout of rain she hadn't noticed whilst inside the Woodbead mansion.
"We have to step in or the Battle of Benover would happen again. Maybe she'll sacrifice Karma properly, the next time." Seiren's chest felt hollow. Madeleine squeezed her hand. "Kommora and the Council of Mages' hands are tied. They can't officially sanction anyone going into Hanna without Hanna taking it as a declaration of war, but they never said civilians can't go into Hanna."
"Well, strictly speaking, nobody can move across the border without authorisation or there would be consequences."
"Only if they're caught." A smile quirked at Seiren's lips. "Kommora wants the same thing as we do: Kristen caught. She'll help us in her own way."
"Mages can't cross the border without the Council's permission."
"Mages can't. But what if we weren't mages?"
Madeleine's eyes widened in horror. "You're not giving up your mageship to trek in Hanna."
"Why? My registration is suspended right now anyway. I wear the cloak, but I'm not an active mage. You failed your probationary exam, so you're not a mage either. We're literally the only people who can do magic but aren't under the council's jurisdiction who can do this. We can stop the war, Madeleine."
"You're mad."
Seiren chuckled. "You lived for six years in my head. You only realised this now?"
Remember to vote!