The show was held in the square the night before Andelin's summer festival, and a bonfire illuminated the dancers and acrobats. Andelin was not a large town, but I still managed to lose the Ritters in the crowd that came out to see. This was my first time seeing human travelling shows, so I eagerly pushed to the front with the smaller children that were just as excited as I. William was probably somewhere not too far behind us where his height allowed him to see over us, the prick. It wasn't fair that we were both nine and he was already inches taller. 

	Without magic to aid their performance, I was slightly underwhelmed, but everyone else was quite impressed. The last performers where a black-haired young man and a girl with long red hair in a braid artfully twisted at the back of her head. The crowd began to murmur when they noticed the white bandages covering the man's eyes, and they grew even more restless when another girl, identical to the first, emerged from the shadows pushed in a wheelchair. She held a flute to her lips and closed her eyes. 

	"Ladies and gentleman," shouted the troupe's leader, "Alma, Liane, and Damian." He gestured at each performer in turn and then withdrew to the side. 

	Damian. That was my brother's name. And when Alma began to play a jig and the dance began, I recognized the narrow shoulders that I shared, the fluidity in motion that could only come from years of dueling or dancing, and my brother had done the former. When I looked closely, I thought I could see my nose on his face. But what happened to his eyes, grey that looked green at the right angle, filled with bright laughter? And why was his frown so intense, while Liane was clearly enjoying herself? My brother was not enthusiastic about dancing, but he didn't hate it with the cold rage radiating from this boy. 

	I was too absorbed in thought to pay attention, and the crowd had tossed their coins and was trickling away when I became aware of my surroundings again. The performers had vanished. Full of questions that felt like hot coals in my stomach, I picked up the skirt of my long cotton dress and dashed to the meadow where the troupe's wagons were.

	One of the performers, an actor who had done a tragedy near the beginning, was tending to the donkeys that pulled the wagons. "Please," I said, tugging on his sleeve, curtsying, and generally doing my best to look like a sweet, desperate little girl, "Could you tell me where Damian is?" He pointed at a wagon with green and blue patterned cloth for its cover and I quickly thanked him before taking off. 

	Damian got out of the wagon before I even reached it. He had a lantern, but he set it down in the grass to embrace me.

	"Bianca, where can talk?"

	I was taken aback by the stiffness and lack of emotion in his voice. In the forest. No one goes there at night, I thought, and he let me climb on his back. As he picked up the lantern, I began reliving my life for the past year for his benefit, emphasizing memories where William had proved that he was of use to me and that Andelin was a good place to stay. 

	We reached the forest and Damian found a tree stump where he could set the lantern down. "Angelus took out my eyes in a fight. They were very close to defeating us. I had to escape. I don't know if our parents are all right," Damian said, still disturbingly toneless. "The troupe let me stay with them, provided I was willing to be of assistance. William is coming."

	I screamed when I was thrown off of him and I felt cold metal on my neck, and then I burst into tears when I realized it was indeed Damian holding the knife. By the time I accepted the judgement of my older brother and that death was inevitable for me, William was there.

	"What do you want from her, you-- you--" he racked his vocabulary for a word foul enough to describe him, but finally decided it wasn't worth it and threw himself at Damian. Damian flung the knife aside and pinned William to the ground by his neck.

	"He'll do," he said, releasing William only to knock him down again when he attacked anew. This time, I was the one to restrain him. Damian had only been testing him. Everything would be all right, and I tried to tell that to William, hugging him tightly while trying to pick up his glasses for him. They were too big for his face and had fallen when he launched himself at Damian. 

	"What do you mean, it's okay?" he snarled. "He almost killed you!"

	"Do it now," Damian said. I pressed my right hand to the side of William's neck, making sure that the ruby on my signet ring was touching him. A flash of red light illuminated the forest and William fell with a scream. 

	"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you that badly--" I shook him and he pushed me away. 

	"Listen." Damian made William sit up and he crouched so William would have to stare at the blank white cloth that had replaced his eyes. "My sister has made a contract with you so that you may use magic and be of service to her. It is time you knew who we really are. I am Damian Rona, former heir to the House of Rona. I named Bianca Rona heir when I lost my sight."

	William frowned. "Bianca, you never told me your brother broke out of the asylum."

	"This is nothing to joke about, boy," Damian snapped. "Bianca will do work in the human world, and you are to do your best to assist her. Therefore, she will remain with your family." I tried to touch William's shoulder, let him know that it's okay, but he shrugged me off, adjusted his forever-slipping glasses, and continued to give the bandages a steady stare.

	"Does this mean that you're Vespers?" he asked calmly enough considering that the content of bedtime stories and the religious texts of fanatics had just appeared to him.

	"Yes," I said. He didn't even look at me. 

	"I don't have a choice, do I?"

	"It's not that bad, William," I said, taking his hand and feeling slightly better when he didn't brush me off again. "You can still go to school."

	"Only if she goes with you," Damian said.

	"We can't afford to send two people. My sister already went," William snapped. "If you give us the money--"

	Damian reached into his pocket and gave me a leather bag the size of his hand. It was light, so I guessed it was full of clockwork roses so I could use magic if I needed to. "If you're frugal, you'll be able to keep enough of these to cheat and get a scholarship. The troupe leaves in the morning. I will go with them. When I find out what happened to our parents, I will come back for you. Good night." Damian kissed my forehead and walked away.
----------
Clock Tower
Berkshire
Seven years later

	"Come on, William," I say, tugging at his limp hand. "We've only got about an hour til curfew, we might get one floor done."

	He rolls his eyes to let me know that he heard what I said but doesn't like it. I have to practically drag him across the main chamber to the trapdoor at the opposite end. Lanterns hanging from the brackets lining the stone walls illuminate the chamber with a soft yellow light. The runes carved and then painted into them are done in an angular style that I don't fancy, but they do their job just fine. 

	Next to the spiral staircase leading to the upper level, William stops and no matter how much I pull, he doesn't budge, so I cross my arms and give him my best try at a dirty look. "What now?"

	"Look, Bianca, I really need to finish that essay."

	Not this again. "It's the weekend. Do it tomorrow," I say as nicely as possible. It's his own damn fault for putting off his school work, after all. If I can manage, why can't he?

	"I'm getting a zero if I don't track down Maddock and show it to her by tomorrow evening."

	He adjusts his glasses and coldly returns my glare. Being more than a foot shorter doesn't help intimidate him. I want to tell him no, that he's not getting back to the Academy until our night's work is done, but then I count up how many zeroes he has already accumulated this semester because of me, and I sigh. "Fine. We'll put it off until tomorrow. Just don't expect me to let you copy mine."

	"Oh, sure, like I'd--"

	The ground beneath our feet begins to rumble and shake. William and I have time to exchange puzzled looks before we are knocked off our feet and fall hard on the floor. He immediately reaches for me and holds me tightly to him. Moron. The runes are supposed to keep the tower from collapsing. The fact that we're not going to be buried by rubble, however, doesn't put me completely at ease. One of the Pallones is here. At least it can't be Erica, the mind reader-- we incapacitated her just yesterday. Small comfort.

	"This sure as hell isn't natural-- Bianca, you've got to leave, as soon as it's over, they're coming--"

	"William--" 

	"Shut up and listen! As soon as it's done, go down and find Bartleman, and if he doesn't want to help us, just kill him. D'you hear me? Find Bartleman!"

	"You'd better be able to hold them off--"

	"It'll be enough. You know you've got a better chance of convincing him to cooperate. If he's there."

	The earthquake is over as suddenly as it began and I force William away from me. His glasses are slipping ever closer to the end of his nose and his light brown hair is all over his face, but he doesn't care. A cacophony of yelling and banging comes from outside. The huge wood double doors should have creaked open, giving way to the crowd, but they hold as steadily as if they were iron. Whichever Pallone is here must have put up a barrier to keep out the humans.
	
	William summons his sword in his left hand and points at the trapdoor with his right. "Get out of here, now," he snaps.

	"Are you drunk or something?"

	"I've got a plan. I can lead him off somewhere. He'll believe me.  Just leave, and find that damn mechanic before any of this shit gets worse. Go!"

	I reach into the pouch hanging from my neck and stuff a handful of rose petals into the pocket of his long coat, all but emptying my own supply, before I hurry across the chamber, holding my skirt and petticoats out of the way, and then I descend the creaky wooden staircase beneath the trapdoor. I almost turn back. But he's a match for Angelus, and it's not likely that he came with his father. It can't be too bad.

	When the lanterns in the corridor detect my presence and come on with a slightly redder light than those above, I enter the room right in front of me, which is filled with clockwork rose bushes in clay pots of dirt. I quickly scan the condition of the flowers and notice that many of their blue petals are turning brown at the edges from keeping the clock tower running. Some of them have completely wilted. I manage to find some that are still healthy and pick off as many clusters as I can fit in my pouch. After hurriedly adding even more to the pockets sewn into the lining of my skirt, I leave the room and use the camouflaged portal that I put at the left end of the corridor years ago.
	
	It's dark as tar now--  no lanterns this deep down. I summon my two cleavers and hold them tightly, even though nothing has attacked yet. It's a good thing William and I cleared out the clockwork menaces prowling this corridor yesterday. But maybe Bartleman put in some more, or they wandered here from another level. I have no choice but to invest a few more rose petals into some illumination, and a pulsing ball of dim light floats by my side, just enough to see down the end of the corridor.

	I'm definitely alone here. Then, I remember the doors. Those were what William and I planned to check tonight. If necessary, I could probably hide in one of the rooms and put up some magical defences, if I have enough rose petals. If not, I'll have to fight. Bartleman's probably in one of these rooms now. Unless he has more escape routes. I wouldn't put it past him.

	The first door I try is locked. Frustrated, I jiggle the knob until it comes loose, and I decide to just kick it down.

	"Get away from that, it's probably locked for a reason."

	I jump away from the door and face the woman who just emerged seemingly out of nowhere. Her dress is patched and her shawl is unravelling. She must be over fifty but she holds herself up with dignity and might be able to look William in the eye. Grey curls reach her collarbone. Her lips are pinched in and her eyes are beady and dark. 

	"You look like a Rona. That means you won't kill me, I suppose," she mutters, as if I'm not supposed to hear. She gives me a sharp glance and nods. "Come in, the Pallone might still be around."

	"You know about the Vesper families?" I ask. I have to know what she is before I go any further. 

	"Of course I know about them. Who doesn't?"

	"You even know their names."

	"I've met a lot of interesting people, and they tell me interesting things," she says airily. "And you'd be surprised what the authors of some of the older books know."

	As we didn't have enough to worry about without having to go up and down the country looking for books to burn. 

	"Now, are you coming or not? I've got a portal right here. He hasn't got a clue." The woman jerks her head at the wall next to her.

	As hesitant as I am to trust a stranger that has enough loose gears to live so deep underground, she has a point. The last thing I need right now is to run into my husband. And with all that knowledge she seems to be so proud of, she could be useful. Interesting, at the very least, my brother would think.

	Keeping my cleavers at the ready,  I follow her through the portal and I extinguish my light. The woman stands next to a bed covered with a patchwork quilt that are in the same pitiful state as her clothes. Light comes from a rusting oil lantern sitting on the desk. The scratched up door, greasy window, and peeling wallpaper complete the picture of squalor.

	"Welcome to my home. I can't tell you where it is-- I'm hiding from them too, you know. Make yourself comfortable and I'll go back for a minute."

	"Why?" 

	"I'm going to bring your servant here. You need him, don't you?"

	"Maybe. He might not listen to you," I say, blocking her way to the portal. "How do you know he's my servant? What do you know about us?" 

	"Oh, he'll listen," the woman says dryly. "Believe it or not, I know a few magic tricks. And it's hard to ignore two people going up and down the corridor destroying clockwork experiments and talking loudly. I can put two and two together." She slips through the portal. When I try to do the same, my body meets a solid wall. She certainly thinks she's clever. But while I decide whether or not I should regret this, I might as well take a look around. 

	I need my light again to peer up and down the dusty hallway outside. The wallpaper is in bad shape and the floorboards are unevenly varnished, just like the bedroom. I step outside, and the dull thok of my boot feels so loud that it makes me wonder if I've woken up anything. There's a fair amount of groaning from the floor and the stairs, even though I'm almost tiptoeing. It's a wonder that they're not giving way beneath my feet. 
	
	The dining room is as worn-out as everything else in the house. There is a brown-haired man sitting with his back to me, a man that I know too well, and I hold up my cleavers, preparing to lunge.

	"Don't kill me just yet, dearest," Angelus says.

	Dearest. It takes me almost half a minute to process that one word and what it's doing to me, the rising tears and screaming ready to spill from my gut, to turn the anger and confusion flowing from the newly opened wounds of my mind into an a slash at his neck. But he knows that the attack comes from pure anger, no real thought put into it at all, and he doesn't even have to look to duck in time.

	"I see you've met Cecelia," he says cordially as he stands up, flings away the chair, and faces me, his sword appearing in his hands. I take a few steps back, giving myself time to regain my breath and stifle the emotions bubbling in my stomach well enough to form words.

	"What did you promise her?" I try to disarm him by using my cleavers to grip his sword below the hilt. I'd settle for slicing up his hand, but he avoids me again. 

	"A better life. Humans are so easily bought and sold. Just like yours."

	"Don't talk about William like that," I say through gritted teeth. 

	"I know how sensitive you are about him." Angelus picks up a chair with one hand and hurls it at me. I barely dodge in time and its legs break on the wall behind me.  

	I'm too frustrated with him to say anything, so I attack again. I pretend to try and disarm him again and change the direction of the cleaver to his abdomen. Angelus avoids it in time, and is unharmed. The cleaver is lodged into the table. I'm stuck trying to pull it out and he pounces on me. His weight forces out my breath. I try to wriggle out from under him or push him off, but he's too heavy. 

	No, this can't be right. I've wrestled him off of me before. And he's not even touching me, he's kneeling over me, and I still can't get up. He's already brought magic into the fight, then. I close my eyes and do my best to ignore the fact that he has begun kissing me so I can work on creating an opposing force. It's in Angelus' best interest to distract me until I can't put up a fight anymore.

	"Bianca, I'm sorry, but you're being unreasonable," he says gently. Look who's being unreasonable, I want to shoot back. Or at least stop him touching me. Not too long now, as long as I'm not the one who runs out of petals first--

	"I don't think we need to go through a whole other debate again, my little fox, but are you sure you want to go with your family's bitterness?" He takes my hand and twists my signet ring as though if trying to take it off. 

	That's when I make my move, using a burst of magic to keep my wrist from being dislocated as I strain it to dig the corner of the blade deep into his forearm. Angelus gasps and stands up, slowly backing away from me in shock. I can move freely again, and stand up to stare up into his face while pushing the ring securely toward the base of my finger again.

	"I think I can trust myself to make the right decisions, thank you," I say with the exaggeratedly pleasant tone that I know he's about to adopt to hide his anger and hurt. I add a smile for good measure, making him go livid for a moment before he realizes that he very nearly lost his temper with his little darling. His face relaxes into a grimace.

	"You'll realize eventually. In the meantime, why don't you come home and we'll be able to settle this peacefully with my family, because we love each other, don't we?" There is a pleading tone to his words that irks me even more than his mocking politeness from earlier. Angelus wants me to reassure him. Not because it'll mean that he's won, but because he wants to feel warm and fuzzy inside. "I know you're angry, you must be, after I've treated you so--"

	This time, I don't miss. Once again: no calculation, all emotion, but I have enough speed. The slash across his chest isn't deep because he dodged early enough to avoid a fatal blow, but a substantial amount of blood spreads across his shirt and I give way to savage pleasure upon his misery. But he still has rose petals, and the wound is closed and his shirt is sewn before I know it.

	"You need some time to calm down, Bianca," he says shakily. Magic shoves me into a chair and I drop my remaining cleaver. Ropes appear, securely tying me down. "I don't want to be so... rough with you, but I think if you calm down-- yes. Then we can talk. I'll be right back." He touches my face and kisses my forehead as I use whatever rose petals I have left to get the cleaver back in my hand and cut the ropes. But they've got some sort of enchantment on them, and by the time I overcome them, he's gone.