Free The White Forest by Adam McOmber

it. “It’s good to find a friend like you, Jane Silverlake, even in these wilds.”
    We stood at the tree line. Two girls, peering into the darkness together.
    •   •   •
    The arrival of our guide, Nathan Ashe, left me in a state of shock. I had not met anyone of his status before. Though my father did have some connection to society, he hadn’t made use of such connectionfor some time and tended to shy away from worldliness. Therefore, the son of a lord was barely within the range of my imagining—particularly a specimen such as Nathan, a pale and sinewy god in his own right with his rake of hair and his strong-looking neck. When he arrived in the Roman ruin, all of seventeen, emerging from the shadows of the southern woods, I felt oddly light in the head. It was as though one of Father’s statues had come to life. Nathan carried his father’s brass headed cane and wore a youthful suit. His manner was light and pleasant, and when Maddy said, “Jane Silverlake, meet Nathan Ashe,” and he kissed my gloved hand, I was worried less about blushing than fainting dead away.
    It occurred to me that he would never have come if it weren’t for Maddy. This knowledge stuck in my heart like a splinter—a constant irritation that would grow infected over time.
    Unlike Maddy, Nathan had been born in Hampstead Town, though I’d never before had the opportunity to meet him. I wasn’t quite certain how she had lured the young Mr. Ashe. Perhaps it was something as simple as her physical beauty, though I doubted it. Nathan’s river ran deeper. More likely it was her father’s scandalous reputation and her mother’s forays into occult phenomena, which she promised to discuss with him.
    I remember him speaking to me alone on the second or third walk when Madeline went off to pick wildflowers. I felt warm in his presence. He seemed to radiate heat, and though my father warned me that Lord Ashe’s son was another goat in the wilderness—a Pan looking for trouble—Nathan struck me as earnest. His eyes were kind and thoughtful, and there was intelligence in his face.
    “You and Maddy are of different natures,” he said, leaning on his cane.
    I knew silence would make me look foolish, so I forced myself to agree.
    “However did you find each other?” he asked. “Not at some cotillion, I’m guessing.”
    “Maddy found me,” I said. “She’s been working on my transformation.”
    He grinned, running his fingers through his hair. “Don’t let her change you too much, Jane. Your difference makes you intriguing. You seem like, well, someone promising.”
    I thought about my talent and wished that he knew my secret.
    Even then, I wished he knew.
    •   •   •
    Upon returning to Stoke Morrow from my trip to La Dometa, I noticed the objects in Father’s collections had quieted to some degree. The button was no longer buzzing in my bedroom. There was still an insistence in the objects’ murmurings, though. I was still irritated with Maddy for not giving me the necklace, yet on some level, I understood her motive. The necklace was like the button—a private piece of Nathan Ashe that one would not part with easily.
    I went to the library, dropped my shawl on one of the wingback chairs, and rang the handbell that Father kept near his blotter. Miss Anne appeared promptly in her white apron and a steam-pressed blouse. Her frowsy gray hair was held back from her face with pins.
    “Do you know any servants from Ashe High House?” I asked.
    She wasn’t accustomed to personal questions, especially from me, and she paused for a moment, trying to come up with an appropriate answer. “No, miss. Domestics on the Heath don’t fraternize. It’s frowned upon.”
    I folded my hands and regarded her. “I’m well aware of the protocol, Anne. I’m asking whether you actually know anyone there.”
    Her eyelids fluttered nervously. “There was my mother’s sister. But she’s passed.”
    “Is there no one else?” I