Camille wound up near the door again, staying out of the husk’s way. “Who was Dansk when she was alive?”

  “I have no idea. The villagers tell me nothing about the corpses they bring me. I give them a name so I can order them about.”

  “It seems so…wrong.”

  Rowena snorted. “She’s a tool like any other.”

  “She’s a person.”

  “Not anymore.” She glared, her voice angry but also tired as if this was an argument she’d had before. “When you don’t have living servants because some stupid morons have made most people afraid of witches, this is your only option.”

  “What about the villagers that give them to you? Couldn’t they work as servants?”

  “Well, what does it say about them that they’re more comfortable giving me their corpses than they are volunteering their labor? Even if they don’t fear me or wish me harm, they don’t want to get too close.”

  The loneliness of it nearly chased Camille’s affront away, but having dead servants just seemed…icky. “So, this is all you have for company?”

  “No, I also have Ember, who I’m going to get back if you would care to start the research you offered.” Rowena gestured to the pile of books.

  “And who is she? A villager who became comfortable with you?”

  “No.” She picked up the first book, glanced at the title, and set it aside.

  “A relative?”

  “No.”

  “Then who?”

  “Why do you care?” Rowena turned, hands on her hips.

  “I’m just curious to see who would live here with the dead people besides you.” Not quite true. It would have made her feel better if Rowena and Dansk had known each other in life, though she couldn’t say why. “Is she another witch?”

  Rowena rolled her eyes. “You’d probably just call her a dead person, too, even if she’s not.”

  “She’s a husk?” But the memory Camille had of the smiling face and laughing eyes didn’t fit with the icy creature in the corner. Even a glimpse had told Camille that.

  “She’s a homunculus.”

  Camille searched the catalogue of her mind and found a tantalizing whisper, but she couldn’t catch hold of it. “A what?”

  Rowena’s smile was slightly evil as she waved to the library. “Look it up.” She swept from the room, and Camille wondered if she regretted freshening her appearance for her uninvited guest. Camille certainly regretted ever finding anything intriguing about her.

  Camille went to the pile of books. She sat behind them and pulled over a stack of blank parchment and a pencil. She opened the first book and began to read until she got an idea of what the book was about, a history of various magical items. She began to skim for witchstones, but the interesting word Rowena had thrown out kept pulling at her.

  She licked her lips with a tongue like sandpaper and didn’t look up. “Dansk,” she said quietly, almost a whisper.

  The husk stepped forward, and Camille resisted the urge to clamp her teeth shut. She only looked out of the corner of her eye. “Please…” Camille swallowed and tried again. “Please, bring me a book that defines homunculus.”

  The husk was away in an instant, but it only took two steps, reached down to pull a book from the lowest shelf, then placed it on the table.

  Camille couldn’t help shrinking back a bit. “That will be all, thank you,” she said in a rush, the words crushed together, and the husk faded back to the corner.

  The new book gave the definition as a created person and even had some of the steps that went into the creation, those that took a great deal of life force from the creator and tied the two together emotionally, almost psychically. Only powerful witches attempted it, and only the most powerful succeeded.

  The loneliness of it all hit Camille again, making her glance in Dansk’s direction. Rowena couldn’t find anyone to share her life except the dead, so she’d made Ember. No wonder she was frantic to get Ember back. It was almost enough to excuse her for being such a colossal ass.

  Camille was tempted to go to her, say she understood, even apologize since she still found the husks incredibly creepy. But she really didn’t care to face Rowena’s sarcasm again before she made progress on the witchstones. She bent her mind to that task, copying fact and rumor about witchstones, how they were made, what they were for. Like most topics on magic, many authors disagreed. Rowena had many tomes written by actual witches, a find that made Camille want to steal several. Many of their stories held encounters with witchstones, full of feeling but with very little usable data. Whenever Camille found a tale of a witch countering a witchstone, she wrote furiously, copying the salient points and looking up many of the words she didn’t know. After a few hours of research, she was almost at ease ordering Dansk around, and she had a huge pile of books before her.

  Camille separated her research into columns, making sure to note where each tidbit was from and starring the items that received more than one mention in different texts. Those were the most likely to be true. She noted that there seemed to be different types of witchstones. All of them disrupted spells, but some held witches in place. According to Rowena, this witchstone tried to drag her through the spell and ended up getting Ember instead. Camille couldn’t find any descriptions to match. One stone was rumored to have the power to attach to a witch like a barnacle and prevent them from moving at all. So, there might be unique witchstones that were unlike any other.

  She commanded Dansk to search the pile in front of her for mentions of special or unique witchstones, then took the texts from it without flinching. When her back began to ache and her eyes started to blur, she stretched and admitted that having a library corpse was pretty handy. She wouldn’t have gotten so far in her research if she’d been climbing about the library as well as researching.

  It was still icky, though. Camille hoped Rowena did maintenance on the husk before it started falling apart on the books.

  While standing, Camille opened another book, this one with a mention of a unique witchstone, if Dansk was to be believed. Camille skimmed the first twenty pages or so, slowing when she read about the discovery of a fairy hoard.

  She barked a surprised laugh as she dropped back into her seat. “A fairy hoard?” She’d read about them before in her fascination with magical creatures. Some scholars debated whether or not fairies had ever existed. They’d supposedly disappeared long ago in the time of unicorns, dragons, boggarts, and imps. The author of this text apparently shared that skepticism by the way they’d written mockingly about the claims of tiny skeletons mixed with a hidden treasure trove. The author speculated that the discoverers had probably found the lockbox of some ancient tribe who’d been killed before they could recover their goods.

  Camille clucked her tongue. Even if the author didn’t believe in fairies, it wasn’t up to them to speculate without facts.

  The author did a good job of listing what the hoard did contain even if they called the skeletons “animal bones.” The book listed coins, jewels, and a myriad of other rich objects, including what the local witches described as a witchstone, one with very peculiar properties, like the ability to draw forth any witch who cast a spell around it.

  Gotcha.

  Camille wrote that down, picked up her notes, and headed from the room to find Rowena speaking into her crystal ball. She looked up when Camille entered, said, “Contact me again with any news,” then draped a cloth over the ball.

  Camille bit back her curiosity and hurried forward. “I found it.” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or angry by the surprise in Rowena’s eyes. “There’s mention of a witchstone that pulls witches to it if they cast a spell around it.” She showed Rowena her notes. “It was found in a supposed fairy hoard. Maybe Sir Robert had access to that treasure?”

  Rowena studied the notes for a moment. “You did all this in a few hours? You’ve almost written a book on witchstones yourself.”

  Camille allowed herself a little preen. “Piece of cake.”

  “This fairy hoard was found almost two hundred years ago. Those who dug it up are all dead by now.”

  “Sir Robert could be a descendant. Or he could have purchased it somewhere.”

  “It still disrupted my spell, so we can’t have it in here when I cast another large one.” Rowena rubbed her chin. “I wonder how far away it has to be.” She slapped the small table. “I really don’t want to throw it out for someone else to find.”

  “There was nothing about it disrupting a transportation spell,” she said. “I guess the witches who experimented on it didn’t try one, so there’s no data on where it could have sent Sydney, Ember, or the knights.”

  “My contact near the border hasn’t seen any of them, either. Lucky for us, he also hasn’t seen any Kells.”

  Camille gasped. “I’d forgotten about them. I guess this means we have some time for the knights to get in position?”

  “Why would Sir Robert do this?” Rowena stood and paced. “Was he so determined to catch or kill me that he’d put the entire kingdom in jeopardy? Did he think the spell would work, and then he’d catch me with the stone?”

  Camille bit her lip and thought about it. “He might not have known anything about witchstones except that they’re anti-witch.” She sighed. “I can’t see him combing through a library, can you? Someone had to have given him the stone and told him enough about it to get him to use it.”

  “Someone who didn’t care whether the knights were there to meet the Kells? Who knows about magical artifacts and isn’t keen on witches?” Rowena snorted. “I’d like to meet this person and wring their bloody neck.” She tilted her head and seemed thoughtful. “Though I can see Sir Robert as a pawn rather than a mastermind. Maybe it was one of the bloody fairies.”

  Camille nodded. Sir Robert as a pawn made sense. Though that still left them with a big problem and now three potential enemies: the Kells, Sir Robert, and the so-called mastermind who had yet to show themselves.

  And who was possibly a fairy.

  No, that was beyond ridiculous.

  Later that night, Camille set about making tea. She’d become quite familiar with Rowena’s kitchen in a short amount of time. Luckily, it was well stocked. She didn’t know who did most of the cooking, Rowena or Ember, and she didn’t want to ask. Any mention of Ember sent Rowena to sniping. Her sarcasm was clearly a mask for pain, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Maybe she usually yelled at her husks. They probably did a lot for her and Ember, maybe even the cooking. Camille tried not to gag at the thought of corpses preparing luncheon.

  And she wasn’t going to let Rowena treat her like a walking corpse.

  She brought the cups to the workshop where Rowena sat staring at the covered crystal ball as if willing someone to contact her. It was getting late. Rowena’s worry would probably keep her up, but Camille didn’t know where she was supposed to sleep. She was just glad her pack had been close enough to get caught in the transport spell. Even if she had to bed down in a quiet corner, she’d have a blanket, a change of clothes, her face cream, and her cap. Small comforts.

  Rowena grunted a thank you when Camille set a cup at her side.

  “You’ll find her,” Camille said quietly, breaking her vow not to mention Ember, but she had to do something to ease Rowena’s pain.

  “You don’t know that.” She sounded beyond tired, her voice shaking with worry.

  “You’ve succeeded in everything you’ve planned since I met you.”

  Rowena snorted a laugh. “That wasn’t long ago.”

  “It’s still a one-hundred-percent success rate.”

  A tiny smile rewarded her. “I may have succeeded with the transport spell, but it didn’t go according to plan.”

  Camille shrugged. “You made a person. You can do anything.”

  Another barking laugh, but this one had genuine humor behind it. “You make ’em, then they leave you. Way of the world, I guess. I just didn’t expect it so bleeding fast.” She clenched a fist. “But Ember didn’t leave. That bastard Robert stole her from me.”

  “You’ll find her,” Camille said again. “With your tenacity, you’re bound to succeed.”

  “I’ve sent some husks to search for her,” Rowena said, smoothing her hair. She disturbed the clip she’d put in earlier, displaying the white streak in her hair for one moment before it became hidden again in her dark locks. “They’re exploring in wider and wider circles, but they’re not good at complex tasks, and they can’t speak to anyone they meet. And if they find Ember, and she doesn’t want to come home…” Her voice broke a little on the last word.

  Camille was up in a moment. She drew Rowena into her arms. “It’s all right.”

  Rowena sagged against her so briefly, Camille thought she imagined it as Rowena pulled away. “I’m okay.” She wiped her eyes furiously and looked everywhere but at Camille. “It’s fine, you’re fine, everything’s…” She took a deep breath.

  Camille rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll help you. You’re not alone.”

  Rowena’s lip trembled before she turned away. “Thank you. Good night.” She hurried out of the room without another word.

  Camille sighed and wondered if she’d ever seen anyone so self-confident and so awkward at the same time. She gathered her things and went to the library. The couches in there had looked pretty comfortable. Maybe she could throw a blanket over Dansk. She shivered. Who knew creepy could become normal so quickly?

  Chapter Nine

  Sydney’s throat was parched. She didn’t think she’d ever spoken so much in all her life, especially not to an attractive woman who seemed so interested in her. Women who were interested usually made an attempt at small talk, then winked or leered or broadly hinted that they should find a convenient room or storage cupboard or clump of bushes. After a vigorous round of lovemaking, all that was left to do was say good-bye.

  Ember didn’t seem to know what a broad hint was. Her stares were openly admiring. From anyone else, they might have even been rude, but there was something about Ember’s curiosity. She didn’t seem to expect a reaction or think she was owed physical affection. She just wanted to know everything and wanted Sydney to know everything about her, too.

  A woman who wanted to know Sydney and not just her body. That was more than refreshing. It was a little…frightening.

  Especially since Ember wasn’t wholly human.

  She shook her head and tried to banish the uneasy feeling, certain Ember would have reacted this same way with anyone. But that was a little depressing. Sydney wanted someone to be interested in her specifically. All the women she’d dallied with had thought her a little special, at least for her charm.

  Or had they? Maybe they would have behaved the same way with anyone they found attractive. Even Camille, who’d seemed so tongue-tied and nervous upon their first meeting, admitted that Sydney wasn’t the first woman she’d taken to the basement to be alone. Maybe she’d had plenty of charming women. Sydney would have to get up the courage to ask her.

  If they ever saw each other again.

  “Are you angry or sad?” Ember asked. “You’re frowning, but there’s something about your lips that says sad. Rowena gets that look sometimes, and that means she’s lonely or possibly bored. Are you bored? You can’t be lonely since you’re not alone.”

  Sydney chuckled. “No one could be lonely around you.”

  Ember beamed. “Thank you. I try to take up room.” She stretched her arms out, and Sydney had to agree. Her bubbly personality took up a lot of space. Even for as short a time as Sydney had known her, the flame of affection had kindled. She wasn’t going to ask if they could find a convenient clump of bushes, and she was still a little mystified as to why Ember hadn’t already asked for anything physical, but Sydney had been enjoying their conversation as much as she’d enjoyed her liaisons.

  And as much as she hated to admit it, the “not wholly human” thing kept popping up in her mind.

  “You’re bored, then,” Ember said. “Are you tired of talking about your life? We could talk about something else. You mentioned horses, and I don’t know anything about them besides the few things I’ve read, so you can talk about them.”

  Before Sydney could respond, Ember rubbed her pierced ear, setting the three dangling ornaments ringing together. Sydney had seen this gesture often enough over the past hours to know it meant she was thinking. “Or we could spar. Rowena sends me to spar with the husks when she’s tired of talking. She says, ‘Go dump some of that bloody great energy you have,’ but I don’t ever get rid of all of it. She said that when I was newly formed, I even kicked in my sleep.”

  Good to know that she did sleep, then. At least one thing would keep her quiet. And thinking about that could keep Sydney’s thoughts away from phrases like, “when I was newly formed.”

  As if summoned by the thought of rest, a great yawn overtook Sydney, and she put her arms above her head and stretched. “How about a break?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she plonked down on a hummock that stood slightly larger than the surrounding grass. They’d been walking over a fat lot of nothing for miles, just some rolling scrubland with clumps of heather, grass, and the occasional spindly bush or ditch. Ahead, Sydney could see the start of some proper hills and Ember’s mountain beyond. To the right somewhere was the border, and a forest sat in the distance, little more than a green blob. On the Arnvild side, the fat lot of nothing extended as far as she could see; the ocean was somewhere far behind them, but she hadn’t caught a glimpse of that, either.

  No wonder no one lived out here. Even the animals seemed to have abandoned it. She’d seen one lone bird since she’d been walking, and she suspected it was lost.

  Or it had come out here to die.