To my left, the Lieutenant again showed signs of a rather wan smile. I would have to have a word to Alexander about that boy: he showed signs of remarkable promise under stress.
“That was a good day,” agreed Lord Topher, eyes sparkling. “I’m glad you closed your eyes, it would have ruined the fun if you saw me too soon.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought.”
It had certainly been Lord Pecus behind the hedge, because as the light breeze changed direction, I could smell the soap with which Damson laundered his white shirts. I blinked once to steady my face, and tried not to look in the direction of the scent. It was to be hoped that Alexander had a plan, because I was reasonably certain that Lord Topher was a magic user of unsurpassed strength.
I wished, suddenly and irrationally, that Alexander would go away, sickened all over again at the thought that I could lose him. A cold little coil in my stomach suggested that it would be a loss I would not quickly recover from.
“You don’t look well, Isabella. I think you’ve been cooped up here too long.”
“Oh, no!” I managed one, brilliant smile. “I was merely thinking about something. You grew up in Lacuna, I believe, and your father died shortly before you came to Glause. I wonder, did you and your father often travel among the rainforest tribes?”
Lord Topher giggled. “Oh, you really are clever! But you’re not quite right, you know: about Father, that is.”
“You haven’t had a father for a very long time, have you?” said Lord Pecus, strolling into the courtyard.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, my heart sinking; and when I opened them again, Lord Topher’s cheeks had stained furiously red.
“I knew there had to be a reason for the deaths beyond your sick enjoyment in them, but blood magic didn’t occur to me until it was brought to my attention that the house of Topher routinely sends its scions to Lacuna to die, and its sons there to grow up.”
Lord Topher gave a scream of rage. “Shut up! It’s meant for her, not you! Shut up! Shut up!”
Porcelain teeth gleamed in a grin, but Lord Pecus’ eyes were cold through his mask. “Make me, old man. You’ve had one transfusion too many.”
“A youth spell, then,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Lord Topher. The Earl had been right. “But you don’t usually hunt in civilization, do you?”
Lord Topher’s eyes were still narrowed at Lord Pecus, but he said to me: “That was for you, Isabella, I knew you’d enjoy the challenge. I won’t need transfusions again for at least fifty years; this time was just for the fun of it all.”
“And very scintillating I found it,” I agreed, smiling warmly at him. It had occurred to me that it was possible to get Trophy and Alexander at least out of this business with a whole skin. I stood, stiffly sliding the Book of Interesting Excerpts onto the bench beside Trophy.
“I think it’s about time we were on our way, Wilfred, don’t you?”
“Isabella! Do you really mean it?” Forgetting Lord Pecus, Lord Topher took two quick steps toward me, smiling infectiously. “I knew you were the right one!”
“No!”
It was difficult to tell if the word had come from Lieutenant Holt or Lord Pecus: I rather fancied that they had both spoken.
The Lieutenant stood, unsteadily, and positioned himself in front of me. “Isabella stays with us, Topher.”
“Trophy, sit down!” I hissed at him, but he only smiled at me.
“There are three layers of protection on her,” he said to Lord Topher, who seemed to be on the point of giving way to a temper tantrum. “You won’t get through those in a hurry.”
“She’s mine!” countered Lord Topher, his cheeks flushing once more. “I’ll show you! Those spells are only good as long as you’re alive.”
“As are yours,” said Lord Pecus, taking another step forward. At that range, he towered over Lord Topher, whose gangly frame was decidedly less impressive in comparison. Lord Topher looked momentarily taken aback, then giggled.
“All right then! Think of it as a wedding present, Isabella: you can have them both. I’ll be back later.” He darted at Lord Pecus, and I think Alexander was taken by surprise, because he made no attempt to stop Lord Topher tapping him smartly on the shoulder.
“Tag!” he said, with a sparkling smile. “You’re it!”
There was a slight huff of air and I heard Alexander gasp, a deep, groaning breath; then Lord Topher was gone, and Lieutenant Trophimus slid to the ground in a stiff heap.
“Trophy! Trophy, fight it!”
I seized his forearms, and a touch of colour came back to his face while the red leached from his eyes. Very well. So Lord Topher was still not prepared to have me die? I would use that. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Alexander down on one knee, beleaguered but by no means beaten and entirely without any trace of red to his eyes.
Lieutenant Holt, on the other hand, was shuddering, his eyes flicking red on and off; and my fingers were quickly beginning to ache. I didn’t dare loosen my grip around his forearms in spite of the ache: Trophimus had shown a distressing tendency toward reckless bravery, and I had no intention of letting him indulge it if I could prevent him from doing so. So long as Alexander was strong enough to keep the black magic at bay there was no reason for either of them to die.
I smiled down at him with something more of determination than comfort, and said: “You’re going to be fine, Trophy. Keep fighting.” Over my shoulder, I tossed: “Alexander? Are you managing?”
There was no reply, and with a cold heart, I said sharply: “Alexander! Are you managing? You know I can’t save you both, and if you can’t manage I will have to leave Trophy to die. Do you understand?”
“Go to him,” gasped Trophimus, his eyes very wide and red now. The shudders had grown from a shoulder-wracking pulse to a series of violent twitches up and down the length of his body; a sign, I knew grimly, that meant things were coming to their worst.
He tried to shake me off, but Lord Pecus, admirably in time, growled wearily: “Don’t shout at me, woman; I’m not deaf! Stay with Trophy.”
I gave a watery chuckle, and said: “Alexander, your address lacks finesse!”
I passed a cold, shaking hand across my brow, and gripped Trophy’s forearm again. I was at a loss for what to do, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling; I could only cling to Trophimus and hope that the contact would be enough to save him.
Contact, contact . . .
Yes, there was an idea! A tingle started in my scalp and ran rapidly to my toes, making me shiver.
“Oh! Oh! I am a clot! Trophy, sit up.”
He groaned and tried to stir, but I had to wrestle him into a sitting position by main force, propping him against the stone bench. There was a momentary flicker of brown to his eyes, suggesting that Lord Topher had narrowed his interest on us, and I heard Lord Pecus utter a disjointed warning. I ignored it.
“I’m afraid you’re not going to like this, Trophy.”
I slid my hands up his arms to his face, careful to keep contact, and kissed him gently on the lips. His head jerked back but I had a firm hold on it, and after another moment he sat up straight, sliding his arms around me.
Then it was I who was being kissed. It couldn’t have been Trophimus any longer, because he pulled me to my feet with renewed strength, and kissed me again. This time his eyes were fully brown, right down to the hazel pip in Lord Topher’s left eye.
I closed my eyes with a pulse ticking in my ears, waiting until I was sure that Lord Topher had taken over completely.
Then I tore myself out of his reach as Lord Topher looked at me with Trophimus’ face, shock and betrayal blazing from his eyes in the split second before they flooded red.
I caught my breath for a horrible moment where it seemed that I had made a mistake that would cost Trophy, and not Lord Topher, his life. Then Trophy folded to the pavement, white as chalk, and I dropped to my knees beside him, breathing hard. As I did so he opened gloriously blue eyes and
smiled hazily up at me.
“Belle!”
His voice was slurred, but his eyes were bright, and I smiled down at him through a sheen of tears.
“Trophy. I’m glad to see you recovered.”
There was another groan from Lord Pecus, and I had to take a moment to carefully school the joy from my face before I turned to face him. He was trying to rise from his knees.
“Yes, Alexander, I’m very well aware that you’re recovered as well. May I help you up?”
He ignored my proffered hand. “Lieutenant Trophimus, did I just see you kissing. My. Fiancee?”
I was impressed. Said through his teeth, at a growl, just moments after recovering from a decidedly nasty piece of black magic. Lord Pecus was nothing if not resilient.
“Trophy didn’t kiss me, I kissed him,” I informed him. I was feeling a little odd, my ears buzzing, and I thought it best to nip such feelings in the bud with a determined attitude. “Besides, it was technically Lord Topher at the time, Alexander.”
Lieutenant Trophimus scrambled to his feet, guilt etched into his features. “I didn’t enjoy it, Alexander, I swear!”
“Very flattering, I’m sure!” I said a little breathlessly, in spite of the determination of my attitude. I found it necessary to thread my fingers into the hedge for support, and this annoyed me a trifle. “Alexander, you will have kisses enough for yourself in time. At this moment, however, I wish to know for certain that Lord Topher really is dead.”
Lord Pecus’ head turned sharply, and I caught a glimpse of curved porcelain lips. “Is that so? I’ll hold you to that when I return from locating Topher’s body, Isabella.”
“I daresay,” I murmured, letting go of the hedge as a lost cause.
Green and blue swirled together as the horizon merged with the foliage, and the buzzing in my ears spread until my whole body was humming.
I made one last effort and addressed Lord Pecus’ general vicinity. “Alexander, despite my best intentions I fear that I’m about to faint. Please don’t allow me to ruin my dress on the flagstones.”
*
Somewhere above my head, Vadim’s voice said anxiously: “Should she still be out, do you think? It’s been a long time.”
“’Ow should I know?” demanded another voice.
Keenan: sounding disgruntled and suspiciously close to tears. I wondered vaguely what he was annoyed about.
“Shouldn’t have ’appened, anyways, me spell’s still all together!”
Ah. Professional pride.
“Stress of the moment, Keenan,” I said soothingly, lifting my head from the pillow and blinking a little hazily. Someone had evidently put me back in my room while I was unconscious. “Your spell had nothing to do with it, I assure you.”
“Course it didden’t!” scoffed Keenan, while I experimentally sat up and discovered that the world was no longer spiralling around me. “I knew that! Wot’d I tell you, Vadim?”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” said Vadim bluntly, darting forward to assure herself that I was not going to fall over again. “You were too busy blubbering about killing her.”
“Since no one has, in fact, killed me,” I reminded them: “I feel no compunction in interrupting to ascertain if you have yet begun to pack my things.”
Vadim looked considerably surprised. “No, lady. I thought . . . Well, we were just waiting for you to come round.”
“Were you so?” I arched my brows at her, prompting a slight flush. I smiled in spite of myself and stood carefully. “Well, I am fully conscious again, and quite ready to depart. If we pack very quickly, I think we might even be back in the Ambassadorial Quarters for dinner.”
While Vadim flew to remove my gowns from the wardrobe, I turned in front of the mirror, observing myself critically to discover the full extent of the damage to my dress. It was not too severe: evidently one of the gentlemen had caught me before I measured my length on the flagstones, but the right side of my hem was very grubby. I eyed the damage dubiously, and eventually separated one of my more comfortable travelling frocks from the quickly building pile on my rumpled bed, employing Keenan to button the tiny cuff-buttons that sat awkwardly just beneath my elbow.
I was still rebraiding my hair when there was a knock at the door and Damson’s head peeked shyly around the door. I found myself surprised and must have showed the surprise, because she blushed as she slid awkwardly into the room.
“I just came to see if you needed . . . that is, lady are you leaving?”
“Certainly I am,” I said, smiling at the dismay in her voice. “I’m flattered at your concern, of course, but this was never a permanent solution. As I assume you already know, I was here strictly as a prisoner.”
“You weren’t a prisoner to us,” said Damson, barely audible.
I gave her a faint smile. “Tired of your mask, Damson?”
“Most of us are,” she said bluntly, gaining courage. “But it’s not so much us, lady, it’s him.”
“Lord Pecus will be taken care of, never fear,” I told her. “However, it will not be here.”
Damson’s mouth turned down briefly. “And not you?”
“Well, now; I wouldn’t go so far as that. Off with you, Damson, I have all the assistance I need.”
“Yes, lady.” She nodded her head, but paused long enough to ask: “Will I see you again?”
“Oh, I imagine so!” I said, smiling affably. “And quite soon, I should think.”
Lord Pecus returned not an hour later, with the news that Lord Topher’s body had been found. He knocked briefly but entered before I had a chance to reply, and informed me of the find while looking around at the general mess with an expressionless mask.
He nodded at the pile of baggage beside my bed. “You’re very quick off the mark, Isabella.”
“I thought it best,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “I will admit myself very much surprised if Papa and Susan are not on the doorstep before dinner, and I would hate to keep them waiting.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go.”
I fixed him with a sharp look. “Alexander, do you or do you not wish to be free from your curse? Really? It has no doubt proved invaluable on the streets, and I think you may be sorry to lose that.”
“To tell the truth, it has been useful, and if you won’t marry me I don’t care either way. But I do want to marry you, Isabella, and I’d very much prefer to be wholly human when I do so.”
“Very well,” I nodded. “Then you will have to trust me. Do you?”
“Yes,” he said. “Against all sense, yes.”
“Then you may call the footmen to carry my things into the great hall,” I said serenely, and preceded him into the stairwell. Vadim and Keenan, each dutifully carrying an overnight bag, jostled each other down the stairs, and I followed.
Lord Pecus’ voice followed me down the stairs, with an edge of laughter to it: “I was promised kisses, Isabella! Don’t forget!”
Chapter Ten
A week later I was seated rather glumly at my writing desk, perforating my best writing paper with an aimless pen nib. Lord Pecus, bother him, had not called on me as of yet, and I was beginning to wonder if he had misunderstood. Moreover, I had an interview with the King of Glause early that afternoon, and being summoned for an interview with the King of Glause had much the same effect upon one as being summoned to the headmistress’ office. One didn’t know exactly what it was that one had done, but there was certain to be something.
Susan, entering the room in her riding breeches with a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, said: “Good grief, Belle, aren’t you ready yet?”
I regarded her frostily. “Of course I am ready!”
“Bored, eh?” she said, with a rude crack of laughter. “I told you that you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You should have married the Beast Lord.”
“That,” I said, rising with great dignity and tightening my reticule around one wrist: “Is a running endeavour. Are you driving me?”
“Like that, is it? Well, I hope it works. Love curses are a pesky business.”
“Which is precisely why I wished to avoid becoming involved in one!” I returned tartly. “However, it’s no use repining now- Susan, if you think that I wish to be conveyed up and down the streets of Glause by an individual holding a sandwich in one hand and the reins in another, you are very much mistaken! Kindly finish your meal before we begin.”
Susan stuffed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth and grinned widely at me with bulging cheeks as if to say: ‘Better?’
When she could speak again, she said: “You know, you still sound exactly the same as you did when I was in school. You had that same sarcastic edge to your voice that makes people want to curl up in a ball.”
“You don’t seem to be in any particular danger of curling,” I remarked dryly, but smiled in spite of myself. “And I don’t seem to remember you being actually in school, as such. I remember a great many notes from your teacher, complaining about truancy.”
“My mind was too broad to be fettered in the confines of a schoolroom,” said Susan loftily, opening the door for me with a flourish. “Well, actually, mostly I was belting about the hills on a pony I broke in, but what’s the difference, after all?”
“Oh, nothing at all,” I assured her, laughing. “By the bye, why am I being driven by you? What happened to the coachman?”
“He’s all right, I just wanted the practise.” Susan threw me a sideways look. “When the merger’s done the King wants me to stay on with the Ambassadorial staff. Melchior says I can.”
I saw the question in her eyes and took pity. “Well, you’re going to be busy, aren’t you? The king isn’t one to let his officers stand still, even if they are on loan from Civet: once you’re finished with the merger you can be sure that there will be something else. I assume it’s to show a unified front to the villages further out?”
“I don’t want to spoil the sentiment by using it too much,” said Susan thoughtfully; “But I really do love you, Belle. I would have stepped aside if you wanted your job back, you know.”
“Oh, I know. But as it happens, I rather think I’m going to be too busy for the job, what with one thing and another. You’ll enjoy Glause, I think.”
Masque (The Two Monarchies Sequence) Page 33
