Thornbound: Volume II of The Harwood Spellbook

by Stephanie Burgis

  Still, I knew better, by now, than to repeat any such prejudicial nonsense myself. It had been nearly thirty years since the first fey-human marriage had been legally recognized. For all that matches like the one between Miss Birch’s parents were still viewed by closed-minded people as shocking, they were hardly unheard-of anymore. Besides, there were more different types of fey than any other creature in the nation. It was horrendously unfair to tar them all with the same brush, and I never would have done so if I had been thinking at full capacity.

  Exhaustion was catching up with me after nine nearly sleepless nights, making me start to slip in far too many ways—and it was exactly what I could least afford with so many unfriendly eyes judging my new school.

  I tipped my head forward, letting my own eyes fall closed as I rubbed at my forehead with my fingertips, trying to massage away the growing ache of tiredness and gnawing anxiety.

  I still had to come up with a new lesson plan for tomorrow, somehow, amidst all this chaos...if, that was, we actually managed to have a lesson, and that mysterious fey bargain didn’t scuttle everything beforehand.

  “If any politician was discovered to have entered into a blood-bargain with a fey against a fellow human,” said Wrexham, “she wouldn’t only lose her career, she might well face a prison sentence, no matter how high her standing might be. Do you think Mrs. Renwick truly cares so much about your school, to risk such a dire fate for herself?”

  “It would certainly explain why she was poking around in here,” I muttered. My eyes were still closed, and a faint buzz sounded, high and distracting, in my ears as the room began to gently sway around me. “If she left in a hurry when she heard Miss Banks and Miss Fennell coming, then tried to come back to collect the evidence... Did anyone happen to recognize that silver ring on the altar?”

  “I didn’t see anyone wearing it today,” said Miss Banks doubtfully, “although it is so plain, perhaps I could have overlooked it.”

  “It means something important to someone,” I said, without opening my eyes. “Otherwise, it could never have been used to seal a blood-bargain.” Such bargains might have been forbidden for centuries, but the whispered stories of their dangers—and their rules—had been passed through every new generation in this southern part of Angland. A lesser bargain might have been agreed upon for a mere trinket, but a blood-bargain demanded a true sacrifice...and not in monetary terms.

  If it meant so much to our attacker on an emotional level, though, why hadn’t she been wearing it earlier today? I might not trust my own observational skills when it came to fashion, but as neither Miss Banks nor Miss Birch had noticed it either, I could be fairly certain it hadn’t been visible on any lady’s finger.

  In the morning, I would have to ask Amy if she had glimpsed the ring herself—but the mere thought of waking her now to ask that question made me cringe. Self-absorbed though I might be, even I knew better than to rouse a nursing mother who almost never managed real sleep anymore.

  As Mr. Westgate had pointed out, I’d dragged Amy into more than enough of my troubles already.

  “Now the bargain’s been sealed, that ring belongs to its new owner,” said Miss Birch grimly. “It can’t be collected until the deed is done, but that’s all it reeks of now on first sniff—blood and fixed intention. Nasty stuff.”

  Wrexham said something more, but his words blurred together with Miss Banks’s response. My elbows dug into my legs, two distant points of discomfort, as I tipped forward on the stool.

  Acorns and leaves and bloody thorns, tangling around me...

  Wrexham’s voice broke into my consciousness. “...I won’t be leaving tonight, after all.”

  “What?” I jerked upwards, blinking myself awake. My husband knelt just beside me on the carpet, his long arms stretched out as if to catch me if I fell. “What did you just say?” I demanded.

  “Did you really not hear?” He smiled quizzically, his expression tender. “I won’t be leaving you tonight.”

  “Why—? Oh.” Of course.

  Wrexham was an officer of magic for the Boudiccate. He’d never willingly walk away from such a puzzle. Unfortunately, he might not have the choice.

  I shook my head muzzily, trying to pull my fragmented thoughts together. “They’ll call in someone else as soon as we tell them about it. They’d never let you be the one to manage it.”

  “Can we even tell them?” Miss Banks asked worriedly. “If they’re looking for any excuse to shut down Thornfell...”

  A shiver rippled through me at the thought. If the Boudiccate’s inspectors claimed that the school was now unsafe...

  “We don’t even know what that cursed bargain was!” I groaned. “If we find out, after all this, that they were only bargaining for a fey to tie our hair to our beds at night, or some such...”

  “There was blood on that altar,” said Wrexham grimly. “That was no mere agreement to tease or to trick.”

  “Well, they’re not getting away with even that much in my house!” Miss Birch’s small figure seemed to grow, like a tree stretching out sharp branches, as she planted herself before us, elbows sticking out from her crossed arms and her shadow expanding farther and farther along the carpet behind her. “They may have snuck past me tonight, but I’m on the lookout for them now. They won’t be breaking my boundaries again without notice!”

  Wrexham looked her steadily in the eye from his kneeling position. “I have full faith in that assurance, Miss Birch, but the true question is: can you actually stop them once you feel them coming?”

  The wrinkles in her face turned deeper, but she didn’t answer...which was an answer in itself.

  I sighed and pushed myself up off my stool, shoving down all my exhaustion. Time to take charge. “Miss Birch’s alert should give us enough time to go to Mr. Westgate, at least—and he can summon help even if he’s still too drained to manage any magic himself.”

  “He won’t need to summon anyone,” said Wrexham, “if I’m here.”

  “But that,” I said flatly, “cannot happen.”

  After weeks of separation, I wanted to snatch at any excuse, no matter how slight, to keep him by my side. But Lionel Westgate’s earlier words echoed in my ears now as I looked down at Wrexham, who still knelt by my side where he’d offered his support—support that anyone in Angland would be mad to refuse.

  But I was mad about him—so I couldn’t possibly accept. “I’ll follow your earlier instructions,” I told him, “and not give up my school for you—but you will not give up your career for me, either. I won’t have it!”

  Wrexham’s jaw set in aggravatingly stubborn lines as he rose to loom over me. “It’s hardly giving up my career to investigate a magical mystery as an officer of the Boudiccate—”

  “—Who has been ordered to deal with other magic, elsewhere,” I snapped. “The Boudiccate are looking for an excuse to be rid of you, Wrexham. They can’t sack you outright for no reason—so for heaven’s sake, don’t give them one! If you actually refuse to follow their orders, even Mr. Westgate won’t be able to protect you.”

  “The devil take Westgate and my career!” Wrexham snarled. “If you think I’m going to leave you at the mercy of whatever that summoned creature may be, with no active magician in the house to defend you—”

  “I beg your pardon?” I narrowed my eyes up at him, crossing my arms between us. “Do you really think me entirely helpless, only because I can no longer cast any magic of my own?”

  “Um.” Miss Banks coughed frantically beside us. “Miss Harwood...Mr. Wrexham...that is, there are other magicians in this school. Nine of us! We may not be trained yet, but we are practicing. Couldn’t magical defenses be some of our first lessons here?”

  “No!” Wrexham and I both chorused the denial in unison. My husband looked ready to explain, but I got in first. “Magical defenses don’t begin until the second year of study,” I said firmly, “but more importantly: you will never be required to defend yourself from danger at my school. Y
ou are my students, and I will keep you all safe while you’re here.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, don’t worry yourself,” said Miss Birch briskly. “I might not be able to defeat that creature, but I can certainly keep it busy enough while a trained magician is summoned to deal with it. We won’t be needing to drag any young ladies into this...or you, either, sir,” she added kindly, with a nod to Wrexham. “You needn’t worry for your wife’s safety in this house.”

  “Or ever,” I added under my breath.

  Wrexham gave me a look of utter exasperation.

  In the corner, the clock tolled a long, mournful sound. Automatically, I glanced at the time...and winced.

  “Miss Birch,” I said, “may I leave the safe disposal of that...thing...to your care?” I waved at the altar on the window, not bothering to hide my disgust.

  “Oh, trust me,” she said grimly. “It will be a pleasure. I’ll keep that ring safe, too, and locked up tight.”

  “Wonderful. And do please see if you can ferret out any leftover kinships still linking it to anyone in this household.” A mere human spell could never reveal such subtle details, but fey magic was a powerful and sidelong force. It was the best I could hope for, at the moment. “Miss Banks”—I turned to my student—“I’ll see you in class tomorrow. And you need your sleep, so no more secret meetings beforehand, if you please! Wrexham...” I gestured toward the door.

  “As you say,” said my husband, and walked silently by my side all the way back up to our bedroom.

  To an outside observer, he might have looked calm and absorbed in distant thoughts, but I had known him for years, and I could feel his frustration like a dark, close fog in the air around us, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it. So I sighed as I closed the door behind us, and I braced myself for continued battle.

  “I know you’d rather stay and deal with all of this yourself,” I said, “but you know as well as I do, if you want to keep your position—”

  “One day, Harwood,” said Wrexham sharply, “you might consider not deciding what’s best for me no matter what I say about the matter.” As I gaped at him, stunned into momentary silence, he added with an unconvincing attempt at lightness, “I am surprisingly capable of making those decisions for myself—as I have tried to explain to you, once or twice before across the last several years.”

  Hurt battled with anger in my chest, making it difficult to speak. Finally, I managed, “Everyone knows that you’re brilliant—there’s no question that you’re qualified to make your own decisions. But if you sacrifice your own goals for mine—”

  “Then that will be my decision,” he said through his teeth, “and I won’t blame you for it.”

  “Oh, no?” I demanded. “So you’ve changed your mind, and you won’t reproach me if I sacrifice my dreams and my school for you, now? Since you wouldn’t dream of telling me what’s best for myself, either?”

  There was a long, pulsating moment of silence.

  Then Wrexham tipped his head forward with a sigh. “Oh, Harwood.” Shoulders relaxing, he gave me a rueful smile. “We truly are a pair, aren’t we?”

  “Always.” I stepped forward and closed my arms tightly around his lean body, relief coursing through my veins. “I’m not trying to order you around,” I mumbled into his chest. “I just want to look after you, because you’re so stubborn, you’ll never do it for yourself.”

  “...Said the pot to the kettle. Darling hypocrite.” He let out a puff of laughter in my ear. “In other words, we are a perfect match...and we’ll keep squabbling over each other’s welfare for another fifty years or more if we’re fortunate.”

  “But not if you drive yourself into the ground first!” Pushing him back a reluctant inch, I used one forefinger to trace the deep lines under his eyes. “You need to sleep,” I said sadly, “and regain your energy before you start your work for the day. You know I want you desperately, but—”

  “I’m staying,” he said, “until dawn.” I frowned, preparing to argue, but he shook his head at me. “It’s a compromise,” he said softly. “We will sleep, I promise. We’ll only sleep, because we both need the rest—I saw you falling asleep on that stool earlier!—and then I’ll leave the very moment that dawn arrives. I’ll protect myself for your sake, as you’ll protect yourself for mine. No one will fault my attendance or my work. But, my Harwood...”

  His fingertips brushed against my face with unbearable tenderness, his dark gaze holding mine and pulling me closer into his thrall. “What I want,” he murmured, “more than anything else in the world, is to fall asleep with my arms around my wife. I just want us to give ourselves this single night of resting together. Do you think we could agree on that?”

  “Ohhh.” I pressed my face into his chest to keep my unruly expression under control. “You have no idea how happy I am to agree to that!”

  And I fell asleep only fifteen minutes later, despite all the hot, tingling temptation of his proximity. I wrapped myself in the comfort and strength of his deliciously bare arms and sank into pure blackness, smiling...

  Until the dream, as always, began.

  There was never any adequate way to prepare for it—and tonight, I was caught horribly off-guard, eased into complacency by Wrexham’s presence. So the nightmare sucked me into its maw before I could even try to escape...

  And this time, I wasn’t alone in it.

  7

  “Aaah!” I launched myself upright, one hand clawing at my own throat as I reached frantically with my other hand for Wrexham.

  My fingers landed on a cold, bare sheet instead of skin.

  Wrexham’s side of the bed was empty. I stared at the rumpled space where he should have been, my heartbeat rattling, as dream and reality mingled terrifyingly together.

  Thorns wrapping around him, piercing his skin as I screamed and fought to tear myself free from my own bindings. His dark eyes flaring wide with shock and pain, and then—

  No!

  It was a dream and no more, just as always. No cruel thorns pierced my own throat now that I was awake; no bloody marks showed along my skin where piercing vines had seemed to pin me moments earlier.

  Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, lighting the room. Wrexham had simply left, as promised, at dawn, leaving me to sleep on...and that cursed dream had kept me buried too deep in its smothering embrace to even hear my husband leave. That was all.

  It was all that it could be.

  I let out a muffled scream of frustration. If only I could cast a simple spell to check his safety! I would have given anything for that reassurance right now. Dread crawled through me with every breath, like spiders creeping across my skin, whispering threats and warnings...

  ...Which was patently absurd. It was only a dream!

  Taking a deep breath, I scooped a hairbrush from my side table and yanked it hard through my thick hair as I pulled the cord to summon my maid. Just by where the hairbrush had lain, I spotted a scrap of paper startlingly out of place; with a gush of relief, I recognized the sloping handwriting across it.

  Take care of yourself for my sake, will you, darling Harwood? I’m still waiting for our wedding night. - W

  There! I brushed my fingers against it, letting out my breath. No vines had stolen him from our bed; he’d merely left me to sleep, considerate as always. So he was absolutely fine, no matter what that devilish dream had made me fear. It was time to leave behind the murky land of dreams and see what nightmares awaited my school in waking life.

  ...Beginning with my first class in front of the Boudiccate’s inspectors.

  I’d planned to begin with a stirring five-minute lecture that would have lit a fire in any young woman magician—but it would have outraged any member of the Boudiccate. So, with my critical new audience members in mind, I regretfully crossed out that plan over a hasty private breakfast.

  As I’d told Wrexham only a few hours ago, there was no point in handing the Boudiccate any gift-wrapped excuses to be rid of us. Bu
t it was with a sense of vengeful satisfaction that I decided to begin my first class, instead, with a simple demonstration of every politically inconvenient truth that I had planned to blast out in that original speech.

  “Miss Hammersley,” I said as my students took their whispering, giggling places in Thornfell’s back parlor. The air jangled with their gathered excitement and nerves, a chaotic, nearly tangible force that sent goosebumps skittering across my skin. “Would you please join me at the front of the room?”

  Miss Hammersley gulped, while the other eight students rustled with interest. The Boudiccate’s inspection team sat in the back corner, and Annabel Renwick raised one expressive eyebrow as she pointedly looked my most impoverished student up and down, from her plainly dressed red hair to the hem of her faded and much-mended dark blue gown.

  As Miss Banks had told Wrexham, Miss Hammersley—one of my two students without an alibi for last night’s mischief—hadn’t had the opportunity to raid any libraries of magic in her own home. She’d grown up in a practical farming family with hardly any access to spells, so she had none of the cultural or magical experience so prized amongst the fashionable young gentlemen who arrived at the Great Library after years of preparation.

  ...Which served my purposes today exactly.

  “Miss Harwood.” Her pale green eyes were wide with what looked like panic, but her low voice was firm and beautifully resonant. She raised her strong, freckled chin high as she stood before me and clasped her hands together under the gazes of her classmates and our inspectors.

  Brave girl. I gave her a small, approving nod.

  It had taken courage to apply to my school by letter, too, as the first magician in her family, with no one to vouch for her suitability. Of course she couldn’t pay the fee that Amy and I had settled on as both appropriate and impressive to families used to the Great Library’s charges—but the passion and fierce intelligence in her letter had won her a place before I’d even finished reading it.