“Do you know why the Touched used to always burn the bodies of their dead?” Nellie’s question seemed to come out of nowhere. Sometime in the last several moments the spell rooting him to the floor had vanished, and Braxton was able to move a step closer to Nellie. He was outnumbered, outsized, and at a serious disadvantage since he had no magic to speak of, but he would die protecting her.
Once everyone was looking at her, Nellie let her eyes go black. “It was because your kind did not want to give my kind any more weapons to use against them.”
The man who was guarding them backed away as if faced with the devil himself. Sidhe muttered a curse. Across the room, Bits slumped back against the floor, letting Garroway’s hand fall back to his side. The message was clear. If Nellie was willing to show her power, there would be no use for hers. People coveted the abilities of a Velchan, but they feared what a Bokor could do.
“It’s a shame you’ve abandoned the practice.” On the shelf a glass jar containing what appeared to be a human finger began to shake. “How far do you think you could get before my army rises? Not that it matters. Once I put them on your trail they won’t rest until you’re found.”
“She’s not bluffing,” Braxton felt compelled to point out.
Proving he wasn’t completely insane, Garroway nodded his compliance and took a dark crystal out of his pocket. His gaze never left Nellie as he walked across the room, and hers never left him. Her eyes were still a solid, inky black, proof that somewhere a corpse was getting a second chance at life.
Once by Bits’s side, Garroway moved her arm, revealing a dark, star-shaped mark just above the edge of her gloves. He placed the crystal in the center of the mark, and Braxton had the urge to pull him away.
“Cause her further harm and we will have a beheading at dawn,” Sidhe warned.
Silver once again slid over Garroway’s gaze. He spoke a few words, whose root were in no language Braxton knew, and the spot on Bits’s arm started fading until there was no sign it was ever there.
“Mark my words, Sidhe,” Garroway said, finding his feet, “you have made a grave error. She will be the end of peace in Corrigan.”
Sidhe rubbed his eyes, and for the first time, Braxton noticed how tired and worn the man looked. Nellie had said her message came from the duchess, and now that he was looking, the signs of a man grieving were obvious. Dark purple shadows gathered beneath eyes shot through with red. Deep lines carved by something other than age marred his ashen skin. Sidhe was still large and imposing, but he seemed less so than he had before. “You are the one who has made a grave error, Garroway,” he said. “Demir, escort him back to his house and assist him however you can to ensure he is no longer within the city’s walls come the first light of morning.”
Garroway’s lips narrowed until it was as if he had none. “You cannot banish me.”
The blonde, who had made her way to Bits along with Nash and Nellie, cocked an eyebrow. “Of course he can. He’s the Oberon, or have you forgotten?”
“Harm none,” Sidhe said. “It is the creed by which we live, and an oath you swore when you became our priest. Yet tonight you attempted to kill an innocent woman under my protection. You have dishonored our people, committed treason, and disrupted my daughter’s ball. You will leave Corrigan, and you will not be welcomed back. Should you seek refuge, our gates will be closed to you; should you seek aid, we will refuse it; and should you ever again try to meddle in the affairs of the House of Sidhe, your life will be forfeit.”
A vein in the middle of Garroway’s forehead throbbed with each word Sidhe spoke. “You will regret this.”
Sidhe nodded to Demir, and the other man moved across the room with a grace that seemed completely at odds with his size. Surprisingly, Garroway went without struggle or further comment.
“That will not be the last you hear from him,” Braxton said once the door was firmly shut.
“No, I suspect not.” Sidhe went to the cabinet and poured two glasses of brandy, extending one to Braxton, which he eagerly accepted. “Now, tell me, why did my guards find you sneaking into my city in the dead of night, Braxton. Don’t tell me you didn’t know where to find the front gate.”
“I came to save my sister.” His eyes found Bits. The blonde and Nellie had moved her to the couch where Nash was examining her. At least, Braxton thought it was an examination. He’d never seen a doctor conduct an examination with stones and bells before. “It does seem we arrived just in the nick of time.”
Not that he’d actually done anything to help the situation. He had a long history of not being much use to anyone, especially where his younger sister was concerned. Whenever she needed him, he’d failed her, over and over again. Even now he was standing on one side of the room, sipping brandy, while others administered her care. He wanted to go to her, of course, but what good would he be when she already had a trio of caregivers, each more competent than him?
“And you just happened to know Garroway was going to attack her tonight?” Sidhe looked at him over the edge of his glass. “That seems a bit far-fetched.”
“I’m standing in a room with two Touched, a Velchan, and a Bokor, and have just witnessed a magical showdown that was ultimately won by a tiny woman who shrieks at the sight of a mouse. I am currently reevaluating what qualifies as far-fetched.”
“That is not an answer.”
“The Duchess of Sidhe sent us.” Nellie said the words in an off-hand way Braxton knew was entirely false. Despite her earlier display, she was terrified of her power and did not speak of it unless she had to, even to those she knew would not judge her. Like Sidhe and the blonde, she was Touched, just not by magic.
“The Duchess of Sidhe has been dead these past three weeks.”
“And she visited me two weeks ago.” Nellie shifted her attention to Bits. “I am sorry it took us so long. There were several unavoidable delays.”
Bits, who was looking very much her old self, much to Braxton’s relief, took her friend’s hand in her own. “You came for me?”
“Of course we came for you.” He knew she’d asked Nellie, but Braxton felt compelled to answer. Beside him, Sidhe downed the last of his drink in one great swallow and went to pour another. “Why on earth would you think we wouldn’t?”
Bits had the grace to look a bit ashamed. “You didn’t want me any longer. I was nothing more than a burden. You were sending me away so you wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. What else was I to think?”
Was she serious? Putting her on that train had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Did she not realize he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t believed it necessary?
“Of all the rubbish that has ever come out of your mouth, and there has been an unbelievable amount, that has to be the most ridiculous.” He was shouting, but he didn’t care. “Ignoring for a moment that I’m your brother and it’s my job to care for you, how could you believe after all we’ve been through together that I would allow you to be cursed and God only knows what else in this horrid place?”
Tears welled up in Bits’s eyes. “This place isn’t horrid. It’s the first place I’ve ever felt free.” A tear escaped, and Nash wiped it away. The two looked at one another, and something passed between them. Something achingly sweet and profound. Something that made Braxton remember how much he wanted to cause the mage bodily harm. “And how could I have known you would want me back?” Bits said once the moment had mercifully passed. “Sarah said—”
“And you listened? I thought we agreed a long time ago to never do that.” Their older sister was full of many thoughts and opinions, none of which had ever done anyone the least bit of good.
Before Bits could reply, the door swung open. The man Bricky held at gunpoint looked worse for the wear. His jacket was ripped, droplets of blood stained his cravat, and a bruise was forming along his left jaw. Braxton hadn’t thought his friend had it in him to fight back, but the evidence he’d done just that was written in his swollen right hand and
the dried blood below the guard’s nose.
“Ah, yes, I had almost forgotten there was a third member of your little rescue party,” Sidhe said. “And who exactly are you?”
“Your Grace,” Braxton said, “may I present the Marquess of Driscoll, Lady Elizabeth’s fiancé.”
Chapter 39
The Marquess of Driscoll was nothing like Bits had imagined. He wasn’t old enough to be her grandfather nor an ogre. In fact, if it wasn’t for the obvious signs that he’d recently been involved in fisticuffs, he would appear completely harmless. Bits guessed him to be close to her age, so he was probably a school friend of Henrick. He was by far the smallest man in the room, being closer to her height than any of the men. He didn’t have the athletic build of Sidhe or her brother, but he wasn’t as thin as Ezra. His rust-colored hair was a reddish brown, and the manliness of his neatly trimmed beard was offset by a spattering of freckles across his nose. Average was the most appropriate word to describe him. He wasn’t the type of man to attract notice, but once you took the time to look at him, he appeared pleasant enough.
“Fiancé?” Sidhe, who seemed to be bent on becoming well and truly soused, threw back another drink. “I must say, this is an interesting development.”
Interesting development was putting it mildly. Bits was so shocked when Henrick told her he’d signed a marriage contract on her behalf with a man she’d never met she hadn’t been able to form words. She’d still been in shock two days later when he placed her on a train bound for Scotland and her new life.
Beside her, Ezra went completely still. She wanted to explain it all, to apologize, but she couldn’t do it with so many people, the fiancé in question included, watching.
Driscoll walked over to the couch and gathered Alice’s hand in his own. He lifted it, kissing the knuckles. “Lady Elizabeth, I am sorry for the unfortunate circumstances of our meeting. However, I assure you, I will do my best to keep you from such distressing events in the future.”
Alice batted her eyelashes at him. “And how exactly do you plan to do that, my lord?”
Driscoll blinked down at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“How do you plan to save me from distressing events in the future? You see, I find so very many things distressing — obnoxious people, crying babies, newspaper stories on the plight of the poor, badly cooked meat. However will you save me from them all?”
Driscoll turned to Braxton, irritation creasing his forehead. “You told me your sister wasn’t vexing.”
“I don’t recall ever saying such a thing,” Braxton said, “but if it is any consolation, the lady you’re declaring yourself to is no relation of mine. Lady Elizabeth is the one in green.”
Bits inclined her head. “My lord.”
She realized quickly why Driscoll chose to eschew current fashion and keep a full beard. Without it he would have looked all of fifteen the moment he blushed bright red.
“My apologies, my lady,” he said bowing towards her.
“I won’t marry you.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Not with Ezra sitting by her side, not moving or saying a word. Even though he wouldn’t have her for reasons that became more and more ridiculous by the moment, she couldn’t give herself to another when her heart belonged to him.
“Oh no,” said Nellie from where she stood sentry behind Bits, “it seems she is a bit vexing as well.”
If Driscoll had been Touched, his eyes would have been glowing silver, but since the aether didn’t call to him, his eyes stayed the same mundane green they had always been when he glared at Nellie. Alice tried to smother a laugh behind her hand, and across the room, Henrick began to pace while massaging the bridge of his nose.
“I am afraid, Lady Elizabeth,” Driscoll bit out, “you have little choice in the matter. Your brother and I have reached an agreement. The papers have been signed. You and I are to be wed.”
Bits had never been given a choice on the things that mattered. Her entire life had been a series of others deciding what was best for her. If it wasn’t her parents, then it was Sarah and Henrick. It wasn’t until she found herself stranded in Corrigan that she was able to start choosing her own path in life. And while it had certainly brought her a great deal of heartache and may have led to her almost dying at the hands of Garroway, she refused to go back to the way things were before.
“In case you’ve not been made aware,” she said, “it is 1853, my lord. I’m afraid you cannot force me to marry you.”
“Braxton!” He advanced on her brother, whose shoulders sagged as if someone had just placed the weight of the world upon them. “We had a bargain. You made a promise, and I expect you to honor it.”
Bits didn’t realize she was shaking until Nellie’s hand came to rest on her shoulder and Ezra’s hand enveloped her own. Even Alice lent her support, placing a hand on her knee. After the turmoil of the evening, it felt as if they were keeping her tethered to the earth.
“It appears the situation—” Henrick began, but Driscoll cut him off.
“I dinnae care about the situation.” In his anger, Driscoll’s refined accent slipped into a Scottish brogue. “I was promised a wife, and I will not leave without one.” He jabbed a finger towards Bits. “This one.”
“But the lady has been in Corrigan for the past two months,” Ezra reminded Driscoll. “No matter how she may have acted while enjoying the hospitality of the Duke of Sidhe, every member of the ton will believe she has returned a soiled dove thanks to our hedonistic ways. Will you still be willing to take her to wife and stand beside her when tongues go to wagging?” Instead of sounding like a warning, or even a claiming, Ezra’s question sounded as though he was genuinely curious. As if he wanted the marquess to say he would want her still.
“Which is why I brought Driscoll along in the first place,” Henrick answered for the marquess. “We all know Bits hasn’t done anything in the time she’s been away from Society, but tongues will, as you say, wag. Unless, of course, she comes back married to a marquess. Rumors may swirl, but no one will ever need know she was here nor have reason to spread gossip about her virtue.”
“But I have,” Bits blurted out, knowing she would lose her nerve if she thought about it too much. “I have been in Corrigan, and I have… you know.” Her face felt as if she was standing within the forge’s furnace. “I am no longer an innocent,” she announced with as much dignity as she could muster considering the circumstances.
“That’s it,” Henrick said, glaring at Ezra. “Meet me at dawn. Pistols or swords, it’s your choice.”
“I don’t care if she’s spread her legs for all of England and has the pox,” Driscoll said through clenched teeth. “She will marry me, or I swear, I will ruin you, Braxton.”
Bits and Henrick had been close their entire lives. They played together as children and became the rock for one another to lean on when their parents died. When he was at school, he’d written to her faithfully once a week, regaling her with stories of schoolboy pranks and jokes only the two of them would understand. Once they became adults, he made a point to dine with her at least weekly. She’d thought they were as close as two siblings could be until he’d pushed her off on Driscoll. She’d thought he had been joking at first, but then she looked in his eyes. Henrick’s eyes never failed to tell her the truth, and right now they were saying that Driscoll’s threat wasn’t an empty one. Somehow, he had the power to ruin her brother, and he would do it if forced.
Something inside of her shattered. It wasn’t her heart, for it continued thumping right along. It was something even more fragile. Her hope, her dreams for the future. They crumbled apart like bits of fine glass.
“How much?” she asked.
Henrick’s eyebrows knitted together. “How much what?”
“How much do you owe him?” Her brother had never before gambled more than he could lose, but it only took one night at the tables for someone’s world to come crashing down around them
.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” It was Ezra who asked, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could speak without crying.
“He overheard a discussion I had with Daniel Ware,” Henrick said by way of explanation. It shouldn’t have been an answer, but it was. Ware had come from a workhouse to be an apprentice to her father when he was nine and she was six. He was skilled with clockwork, but not as skilled as she. They’d tried to keep the secret of her abilities from him, but somehow he’d figured it out. Since he was like family, it was never an issue. That was, until after her parents died.
Bits and her father had worked as a team once her powers were realized. She may have been the Velchan, but he was both her father and the more experienced Ironmaster. The projects they worked on were his. She was nothing more than an extremely skilled assistant. After he died, Ware tried to step into her father’s place, yet he didn’t have her father’s vision or skill. They’d argued a great deal those first few years, but eventually he saw that if he were to remain in her father’s workshop, he would do so as her assistant.
At least, she had thought that was the realization he made. She’d believed it until the moment he presented her steam-powered airship as his own at the Great Exhibition. She’d sent him a strongly worded letter, calling him every name a woman of her rank and station should not have known, and he’d answered informing her that unless she would like to discover exactly how it felt to hang from the end of a rope, she would not breathe a word to anyone.
That had been over a year ago, and she had not heard from him or seen him — aside from the never-ending newspaper caricatures — since.
“The entire unpleasant affair with Mr. Ware is behind us now,” she said. “It should have no bearing on our future.”
“It may be behind you, but I assure you, it is still very much alive and well for Ware,” Henrick said. “He’s under a tremendous amount of pressure from the crown, who wishes to see him expand his airship empire. The Queen thinks that more agile, easy-to-conceal airships would give Britain quite the advantage over her foes.”
A Dance Like Flame (Of Magic & Machine Book 1) Page 25
