Free Magic Under Glass by Jaclyn Dolamore

sunset, while the servants stepped up their own efforts, preparing Vestenveld for Mr. Smollings’s arrival. The bedrooms were aired, the floors swept, and the furniture dusted. The maids even braved Hollin’s father’s study. I took to dressing my own hair in a simple coiled braid just to spare poor Linza this one task, and I gave her my jar of hand cream. “I believe you’ll need it more than I do.”
    He came in the night, after I had gone to bed. I heard faint voices from the main hall, and imagined Miss Rashten there with her lamp and clucking tongue, and Hollin giving dour greetings. I pulled the covers up to my nose. I had heard enough about Smollings that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to meeting him.
    When I woke, the men had already left to hunt. Linza brought my breakfast tray without a word or a smile.
    “Linza, what’s wrong?”
    “I’m worn out to the bone, miss, if you’ll pardon me saying so. And all this for—!” She huffed. “I’m sorry. I’m letting my mouth run on.”
    “For Mr. Smollings? What’s the trouble with him?”
    She glanced both ways, as if someone might pop up from behind the furniture, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “He scares me worse than that clockwork man.”
    I drew closer to her, lowering my own voice. “Mr. Parry said something similar. That he was unpleasant. Even before I came here, I heard rumors,” I lied, hoping to encourage her into telling me more.
    She nodded eagerly. “I’m sure I’ve heard the same!”
    “Have you?” I wondered if anyone else thought Garvin’s disappearance might not have been fairies after all.
    “They say he washes his face with ghost powder!”
    I suppressed a snort. Hardly the revelation I hoped for. “What on earth is ghost powder?”
    “They sell it at the apothecary,” Linza said. “I think it’s to strengthen one’s power in the dark arts.”
    “How do you get powder from a ghost?”
    “I don’t know . . .” Linza looked a little crestfallen that I had disparaged her story.
    “Well, whatever it is, it sounds very sinister.” I brushed off my skepticism. I hated to hurt Linza’s feelings.
    Linza smoothed back loose wisps of her hair and peered at me curiously. “What rumors did you hear?”
    “Oh . . .” I waved my hand. “Just similar things about dark magic. I should let you go. You need your rest.”
    I lingered over my eggs and toast, heaving a few dramatic sighs to myself. If one spends too many hours in solitude, one starts to emote for one’s own benefit.
    When I left my room, the halls were as still and silent as catacombs. For days, more maids than I’d known existed at Vestenveld had rushed about, carrying linens or brandishing dusters, but now I might have been the only person in the house. I supposed they had all withdrawn to the servants’ quarters, or maybe the cook needed help in the kitchens. I went and wound Erris.
    He spelled my name in greeting. NIM.
    I looked out the window to the garden. I didn’t see the men, not that I expected to, but the gardener was pruning, and seeing another soul brought me comfort. Behind me, Erris began to play, a tune both lively and urgent. He stopped when I turned. I frowned at him. “You shouldn’t play songs that aren’t part of our repertoire! Someone might hear. ”
    “Mmm?” His tone expressed concern.
    “I’m sorry if I snapped. It’s just—the house feels different since the visitors came.”
    YES.
    “Do you sense it, too? I haven’t even met them yet. They’re off hunting birds, I think.”
    FOR SPORT.
    Of course fairies wouldn’t hunt for sport. I hated to think of Hollin shooting down beautiful birds. “I don’t know that Hollin enjoys it much,” I said, trying to convince myself. “He even told me Mr. Smollings is a good politician, but unpleasant company.”
    TRULY.
    I was growing accustomed to counting out letters; I hardly needed to write them anymore, although I kept at it for my records. “I hardly blame him. You