The first day, we covered a lot of ground. When we finally rested in the evening, I pulled up the carriage’s blind to look at the camp. A perimeter of sorcerers circled us, hands on staves, ready for battle. They stayed that way throughout the night, only moving for the changing of the guard. Already, Blackwood was running his Order like an army.
The next day, I woke up feeling slightly better, which meant I wasn’t in mind-breaking pain. Though Maria seemed unsure, when we stopped for a rest, I left the confines of the carriage and walked in the sunlight. Had it always been so painfully bright? Shielding my eyes with my hand, I spotted the cluster of wagons used for transporting the wounded men and searched for Dee.
He was lying upon plush cushions so fine they must have been stolen from the palace. We were like bandits, ransacking the best bits of London and making off with them. He stirred when my shadow fell across him, and he opened his one good eye. Weakly, he smiled.
“Glad to see you, Howel,” he croaked.
He tried shoving himself up to sit properly, but it was hard with only one good arm. The stump below his left elbow had been expertly wrapped in white bandages, while his right leg had been splinted—Maria had saved it, after all. That was something, at least. A cloth mask draped the right side of his face, as cover for his blind eye. The swelling had gone down, but ridged lines of scars still crisscrossed over his cheeks and jaw.
I poured him a cup of water. He drank while I settled blankets around him.
“Thank you.” When he smiled, he was still the same blushing young man I’d met at Agrippa’s.
God, I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I found a book beside him, Ivanhoe, and began to read aloud. For a few minutes I could forget the pain in my body and in my mind. The book and the words soothed me in a way no medicine could. When I finished, Dee closed his eye.
I thought he’d fallen asleep, and I was prepared to slip away when he murmured, “Want to know something funny?” Dee’s cheeks tinged pink. “My father will be so disappointed.”
“Oh?” That was all I could think to say. Who would be disappointed to see his son mutilated?
“I’ve only met him three times, you know. It’s because my mother was…That is, she wasn’t.” Dee plucked at the blankets. “She was governess to his children. My real last name is Robbins.”
Oh. Dee was illegitimate. In any part of our society, that would have been frowned upon, but the sorcerers had a strict law against natural children becoming members of the Order. It was a blisteringly stupid law, of course, but one they upheld. How had he even been allowed to train?
“Father cast mother out when they found she was expecting, but my grandmother let us live on her estate. No one ever thought I’d receive a stave of my own, until my half brother, Lawrence, died in combat. My father got the Order to grant me legitimacy. Hard to do, since you need the Imperator’s written consent, but he was desperate for an heir.” Dee sniffed. “I didn’t like giving up my name. Robbins sounds far better than Dee, I think.”
He flipped Ivanhoe’s pages.
“Funny part is, after all the trouble he took, he’ll be so disappointed that I’m…as I am.”
“Brave?” I snapped. The idiocy of some people never ceased to amaze.
“Ah well. Who needs him when I’ve my friends about me?” he said mildly. Settling back against the cushions, he fixed me with a pointed stare. “When I first came to London, everyone was horrid to me about my mother. Until Magnus started fighting anyone who dared speak. After a few bloodied noses, they became dead quiet. He’s a good friend.”
Before I could respond to that, Lilly climbed up into the wagon, a tray of food balanced in her hands. Dee whipped his face away from her. I’d the feeling she’d been listening a while—she smiled warmly as she set the tray onto Dee’s lap.
“Time for your medicine, sir.” She offered Maria’s pea soup–like concoction. Dee still wouldn’t look at her.
“I’m sorry you have to do this,” he muttered. “It must be hard to see.” Lilly blushed.
“Proud to do it, sir.” She handed him a forkful of steaming potato. “I like looking after brave men.”
When she said brave, I thought Dee would pass out. He looked spellbound as Lilly picked up Ivanhoe. “Someone’s left off in the middle. Would you like me to continue?”
“You would read to me?” Dee’s smile widened as I slid out of the wagon to give them some room.
As I walked across the clearing, I studied the company around me. The sorcerer perimeter remained in place, in rigid anticipation of an attack.
Pain flared again through my body. Like magic, Maria was at my side, grumbling as she supported my weight.
“Can’t believe I have to chase you around camp. You’re worse than a runaway pup.”
“I wish I could take a shift.” Joining the guard would have meant I was in control of my traitorous body.
“You’ll be able someday, but not soon, and not as you used to.” A lump formed in my throat; yes, nothing could be as it used to.
We returned to the carriage. I didn’t want to climb into that small, hot box, but I hadn’t much choice. As I placed my foot on the step, Maria said, “Though I don’t know how they’ll manage the guard with that squadron leaving. His Lordship’s mad as a hen about it.”
“Which squadron?” I stopped.
“Valens is taking a handful of men and riding off to aid Her Majesty’s army in the north. Told Blackwood he didn’t want to sit behind glass walls any longer.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Magnus is going with them.”
Shocked, I slipped from the step. “Where is he?”
Maria tried to stop me, but I ran, ignoring the increasing bite of pain. Sure enough, to the north of the perimeter, a group of men were saddling horses and tying up sacks of provisions. Magnus was among them, cleaning out the hooves of his chestnut bay. The men had all dug up spare red coats for the army; his hung loose on his frame, designed for a bigger man.
This was bloody suicide. Heart in my throat, I stopped in front of them.
“Howel.” Magnus looked surprised to see me. “Here to say goodbye?” He put the horse’s hoof down and stroked her neck; her ear flapped in appreciation.
“Where are you going?”
“Northumberland. They say there are more Familiars pouring in against the eighth battalion.” He tried to make it sound easy, but I knew what horrors awaited them. “Blackwood—I mean, the Imperator—was in a snit, but I think when he found I’d volunteered, he agreed to let us go. Don’t believe he’s terribly keen on having me in the family.” Jokes. Always jokes with him.
“You’ll be killed!”
At last, the merry facade fell. He looked bone-weary; there was no life in his gray eyes any longer. “I don’t pretend to be necessary. You’re the burning rose, Maria the chosen one, Blackwood the Imperator, but I?” He shook his head, his auburn hair catching the sun. “A soldier, nothing more. One dispensable brass cog in the great war machine.” His voice faltered. “The only person who needed me died while I stood there and watched.” He fastened a strap on his horse’s saddle, then closed his eyes tight. “It was cowardly of me to blame you for Rook.”
“No, you were right.” My voice shook. Make him stay. His was a presence I’d taken as a given, and it was only now, when he was riding into oblivion, that I realized how badly he was needed. He was a spot of light in an ever-darkening world. Such a person shouldn’t—couldn’t—throw himself away. “Magnus, we need you.” I paused. “I need you.”
“No. You need Blackwood.” He sounded resigned. “There’s no reason for me to stay when you have him.”
That was all he said, but his eyes and voice expressed more. You forbade me to speak of my feelings ever again, he’d said, and I agreed.
My face went hot. “Eliza needs you, for God’s sake.”
“If I die, she’ll be in mourning for a year. I’ve saved her from Foxglove. At least I could be useful once.” He took out his stave
and presented it to me with a low bow—a sorcerer’s bow. “There’s nothing left for me in this world, Howel. Let me find some meaning in the next, at least.” Sheathing his stave, he mounted his horse and took the reins. “Goodbye.”
“I won’t allow you to do this,” I said, positioning myself before the horse. Magnus’s shoulders slumped.
“You have to let me go,” he said.
Before I could reply, Valens whistled, summoning his squadron. Magnus rode to join his fellow soldiers. Together, the ten of them cantered ahead, breaking through the perimeter and heading north. I watched until a cloud of dust and the faint pounding of hooves were all that remained of them.
Magnus had gone.
I accepted the agony in my shoulder as I made my way back. Blackwood was waiting for me at the carriage, holding the door open.
“So they’ve left, then?” He said it with some degree of satisfaction.
“You should have forced them to stay,” I muttered.
“Them?” he asked pointedly. “Or one in particular?”
My silence mollified him. Cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me. “Come inside. The sun is too hot.”
He helped me into the dark of the carriage.
Days blurred into one another while the nightmares tugged at me. Upon waking, I’d often find Blackwood and Maria in the carriage, monitoring me. Apparently, I’d taken to sleepwalking and had nearly got outside the camp one night. It was just how Rook had been in the early days of his illness. My head ached all the time now, even when I slept.
Would I become like Rook? A vessel for Korozoth’s hatred and power? Maria and Blackwood, perhaps, should kill me. But I knew they wouldn’t, and I didn’t have the strength to do it myself.
We had come to Yorkshire; I could tell it without even pulling up the blind. The air tasted different here, like stone and frozen earth. The north was harder, and hardier. Even the light had a slate-gray appearance. Soon we’d wake to frost on the windowpane and snow on the breeze. I’d been happy to leave this place once, when my greatest problems had been Colegrind and a meager breakfast. How could I have been so stupid?
“We should be home soon,” Blackwood said when I awoke on the third day. I sat up, pushing off my blanket and hissing as Maria undid the top of my dress. Blackwood turned away to give us privacy as she exposed my shoulder, peeling off the gauze. I winced, then looked at my marks.
They were black as night, the punctures neat, round, and surprisingly fresh. Maria rubbed in ointment, which stung so badly I cursed and accidentally kicked Blackwood’s shin.
“Will they always be that black?” I asked through my teeth.
“Aye. It would appear so.” And why shouldn’t they? Rook’s scars had always been inflamed. Working my shoulder, I studied Maria as she put her bottles back inside a wooden chest balanced on her knee.
“When do we tell them we’ve found our true chosen one?” I asked. Blackwood and Maria both looked up in surprise.
Blackwood lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s wise?”
That was his way—ask a question, then let the answerer fall into a trap of her own making.
“Isn’t it wise?” I asked.
Maria stopped our arguing. “I don’t want anyone else to know. Not yet.” She pulled up the blind halfway and gazed at the rolling countryside. “I like being invisible to them for now.” She still didn’t trust sorcerers.
“Quite.” Blackwood breathed more easily. “We’ll wait for the best opportunity.”
I kept silent until the carriage stopped for a rest, and Maria climbed out to tend the other patients. “You’re trying to keep your power,” I said to him.
Blackwood rolled his eyes. “She wanted to hold back.”
“Oh, don’t play games. If everyone can at least pretend I’m the best we have, your support is stronger.”
“No, I’m doing this to protect the woman I love.” He squared his jaw; apparently my accusation had stung. “We need to keep your position secure. You’re Unclean, and if the truth about R’hlem ever gets out, even I may not be able to shield you.” The light from the window threw half his face into deep shadow. He climbed out the carriage without another word.
Uneasy, I settled back and sank into sleep.
The black of my dreams faded to gray. Around me was a world of nothingness. Hell and damn, I was on the astral plane once more. That could only mean…
R’hlem appeared, one hand over his chest. He was barely standing. The left side of his body was bandaged, blood seeping through the gauze. Well. At least we were both hurting.
“You’ve broken my heart,” he said.
He was alive. Despite the terror of knowing that, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat relieved.
“You left me no choice,” I croaked.
“You had a choice. You chose your sorcerers.” He grunted in pain; the astral plane around us flickered. This had to be taking much of his energy. “You joined the men who condemned your own mother.” What the devil did my mother have to do with this? “You preferred murderers to me.”
“You are also a murderer,” I said, my tone icy.
“You chose the men who turned me into this,” he snarled, gesturing to his own skinned face.
“I chose England over you, and I’d do it again.”
“Is that so?” He sneered at my words. Once again our surroundings warped slightly. “Then the sorcerers are no longer enough for me. England will pay the price.” His expression filled with pure hatred. “The Kindly Emperor comes. You will all bear witness to his smile.”
I snapped back to consciousness with a cry, my shoulder burning. Blackwood had returned to the carriage and laid me against him while I slept. Instantly, he brought a flask of water to my lips.
“Are you all right?” he asked. I finished drinking and wiped my mouth with the back of my glove. Most ladylike.
“R’hlem,” I whispered. “Still alive.”
Blackwood took a shuddering breath. “At least now we know.” For a while we sat in silence. I buried myself against him, lost in the pine and snow scent of him. He had been out of doors, in the fresh air. I envied him for it.
Then, as if making a decision, he whispered, “Here.” Taking my left hand, he gently unbuttoned my glove at the wrist and slipped it off, a daring move. “I risked a trip back to the house for this. It’s tradition for the future Countess of Sorrow-Fell to wear it.”
He produced a ring from his pocket and slid it onto my finger. It was big for me, but hopefully I would come to fit it. A plain silver band, it housed a tiny pearl. I marveled at its small, perfect beauty.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He kissed my bare wrist, my pulse elevating at the touch of his lips. Alone in the carriage, his strict Imperator facade melted somewhat.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered. Damn. He could feel me shivering beneath his touch, but I couldn’t help it. The light sculpted his face in just the right way to make him look exactly like his father.
“I’m not afraid.” I meant it. Mostly.
The carriage came to such a lurching halt I nearly fell into Blackwood’s lap. He knocked on the roof.
“What’s going on?” But then he closed his eyes in relief, as though he could sense the answer. “We passed the barrier.”
I could feel it as well, a light tingling on my skin. Not the same pressure in my head that the ward had provided, but something more soothing and natural.
“Come,” he said, climbing out of the carriage. “I want to show you.” He helped me down and walked with my arm through his.
The mist was heavy all about us but dissipated as we came to the hilltop. Ahead of us, the most spectacular mansion glowed in the early-morning sunlight.
It was like something carved out of time. A marble colonnade decorated the front of the multistoried house, calling to mind temples of ancient Greece. Hundreds of windows sparkled, jewel-like, as the sun struck them. As the length of the house continued, it morphed f
rom classical to the medieval. It bore the rough outline of a castle, but the turrets were corkscrew, the windows positioned at chaotic angles. It gave the impression that gravity did not apply, as though one might run down a staircase and somehow end up dancing upon the ceiling. In truth, it was a perfect estate from Faerie.
Nearby, a pond glittered, and an emerald lawn reached all the way into a dark fringe of trees. Black forest waited on every side of the estate, ancient beyond anything. Magic perfumed the air.
I thought again of the prophecy tapestry, how the girl’s white hand stretched out of a gnarled, dark wood.
It was all coming to pass, wasn’t it?
Blackwood whispered in my ear, “I’d hoped to bring you here alone, after we were married.” His lips grazed my temple. “But that can wait.”
Maria trotted up to us, her peacock cloak fastened about her shoulders. It was resplendent against her hair. “Good to be home?” she asked Blackwood. Her face had better color than I’d ever seen. Something about nature, and the north, appeared to agree with her.
“Very good,” he replied.
Maria grabbed my hand. “Come along. You must keep up your exercise.” She led me away as the other carriages and wagons pulled up the hill, and Blackwood turned away to deal with them.
“Look at it.” Maria parked us beneath the shade of an oak. “Did you ever think to see such a place?”
Did I read some fear in her eyes?
“Never.” I nudged her. “Are you ready for your great destiny?”
“If you’ll stay with me.” She sounded breathless. “Can’t see how I’ll do it alone.”
“Then we shall remain together, always.” As far as I could see it, she was now my great duty in life.
“Aye. Two of a kind, that’s us.” She stepped into the sunlight, which fired her red hair. I hung back, leaning against the tree. Maria strode farther into the light. Healthy and fearless, she was the ideal savior. While I, well, I found comfort in the shadows. Lighting my hand, I watched the fire play over my knuckles. Black still threaded itself through my blue flame. What could it mean?
A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire, Book Two) Page 31
