by CJ Brightley
Panic seized her completely. What had she done? Dominic would be furious when he realized. Her only impulse was to get away before he woke and saw her, and in a confused, tangled rush she scrambled out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and ran.
It really was fortunate the servants were gone, Ardhuin thought, struggling to do up her dress as she ran. She must look like a madwoman with her hair streaming down her back, and there was no time to fix it, she had to get away. Illusion, that would have to do for now.
When she reached the main stairs, she stopped. She was doing this the wrong way. She should be illusioning Dominic instead. He would realize something had happened as soon as he woke up in her room, if he hadn’t already. Could she remember what the inside of his cottage looked like well enough to convince him?
She ran back, now terrified he would be awake. Carefully, she eased open the door, gathering shadow around her. Would that even work with him, or would the magic reveal more than the shadows concealed? Would illusion work, for that matter?
She carefully parted the ivory damask bedcurtains and peered inside. Dominic was still deeply asleep; the sharp angles of his face even more pronounced in shadow. He’d barely moved since she’d left; one arm was still curled around the fold of blanket where she’d been.
Ardhuin frowned. Was that normal? It would work to her advantage if he was a deep sleeper; she could move him to the cottage and he would never know. She concentrated, feeling the delicate threads tug on her senses, telling her the magic was formed and awaiting her bidding.
Dominic groaned, a half-strangled sound deep in his throat, and writhed. His face contorted with pain, and Ardhuin quickly dissipated the levitation spell. He collapsed into unconsciousness again.
That was definitely not normal. Ardhuin stared at him, noticing his face was flushed and damp with sweat. Working up her courage, she reached in and touched his forehead. It was burning with fever.
Her knees buckled, and she had to sit on the edge of the bed for a moment. Dominic was very sick, probably because of her. What was she going to do? How could she summon the doctor without revealing too much? There was a limit to eccentricity, especially for young women. But what if he died?
She was quite sure this was not a usual development of an…intimate encounter. Surely the stories would mention such a thing? He had acted so strangely, as if he had mistaken her for someone else. Someone he thought beautiful and desirable. She had gone along with his misperception, even encouraging it, snatching at the chance to know what it was like to be loved.
Magic was to blame somehow; she wasn’t sure how. If it was a spell, it was one she had never heard of. It had even affected her, making her feel at one point as if she would explode or go mad with the overwhelming sensations that shuddered through her.
She fetched cold water and a cloth and bathed his forehead while she tried to decide what to do. His pulse was quick but steady, which she recalled being mentioned as a good sign. Were there any medical texts in the library?
He didn’t look so flushed now. She kept up her efforts, and a few hours later it was clear his fever had broken. Ardhuin nearly wept with relief. Poor Dominic. First the defensive spell on the book, and now this. She really wasn’t good for his health.
She ought to be sorry, but she wasn’t. Even now. She could live out the rest of her lonely life with the memory. Just once, she could pretend she was desired. Even if she still didn’t understand how it had happened. For a brief time, she had felt beautiful.
But she didn’t want Dominic to pay the price for her bad behavior. Ardhuin reached out to check for any returning fever. He stirred under her hand, sighing, and she started and snatched her hand away. Dominic turned his head restlessly, groaning, then opened his eyes and looked at her. Immediately he cried out and clenched them shut again.
Ardhuin stood for a moment and struggled not to burst into tears. She felt like she’d been slapped. It was the horrible dancing class all over again. Then she realized the light from the sun had fallen full on his face through the open curtains.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry….” She ran and closed all the blinds on that side of the room, then peeked in at the bed again. “Is that better?”
She could just see him nod, very slightly, in the gloom, and she felt absurdly happy. He wasn’t dying. He might hate her, but he was alive to do it.
The drawn expression of pain on his face faded a little, replaced by confusion. He struggled to speak, and when he did, his voice was faint and raspy.
“Not my bed.”
Her happiness evaporated into panic. “Don’t talk! You’ve been very ill.” Yes, that was good. Leaving would be even better. “I…I’ll get you some water.”
She twitched the curtains closed again, ignoring the weak sounds of protest inside, and ran out of the room. What was she going to say? How could she possibly explain? She proceeded slowly to the kitchen, trying to decide what to do.
He’d been confused. He also had been quite sick. He might not remember everything that had happened, or perhaps he could be persuaded it was the result of delirium. Ardhuin brightened for a moment, then reality set in. She would have to be very careful, and think about what she told him. If there was one thing she could count on, it was that he would ask questions.
She found a crockery pitcher and filled it from the pump at the sink. He was probably hungry, too—wasn’t there some kind of special food for invalids, like calves’ foot jelly? Marie would be bound to have some stored up, if it hadn’t all been used in her great-uncle's last illness.
Ardhuin searched the pantry with no luck, then remembered the cold room in the cellar. Rather than bother finding a lamp, Ardhuin conjured up a ball of magefire, which reminded her she had still not determined the cause of Dominic’s illness.
Her first instinct was to attribute it to an attack by her enemies, but that didn’t make sense. She’d done a careful scrying on the hill to find the lost boy, and the only people on it were herself, Dominic, and the searchers, all of whom were from Baranton. In addition, why would her enemies attack Dominic instead of her, and in such a way?
It was related to magic, though. She was sure of it. She opened the door of the cold room, shivering as she stepped into the frigid air. Another spell of her great-uncle’s. The shelves were almost completely empty, but on one there were three small glass jars sealed with wax and labeled “beef jelly.” One had gone bad, but the other two looked fine. Ardhuin took one and stepped quickly out of the cold room.
The door to the wine cellar was just a little further down, and she hesitated. Her great-uncle had been sparing in his use of strong spirits, but she had seen him partake after a rather strenuous magical bout, explaining that brandy was of great use in countering thaumatic shock. Certainly, his hands had stopped shaking after the first glass. Maybe Dominic would benefit from some brandy too, since he seemed to have a rather severe case of thaumatic shock. It would also help cloud his inquisitive mind.
Ardhuin made her way slowly and carefully back upstairs, now burdened with the jar of beef jelly, a spoon, a dusty bottle of brandy, the jug of water, a tumbler, and a glass for the brandy. She nearly had a disaster when she reached the door and had to unburden herself to turn the handle. She should have gotten a tray, but she didn’t know where the servants had kept them.
Tiptoeing softly into the room, she first placed the jug on the bedside table, and returned for the rest. The jar of jelly tipped and fell against the brandy bottle with a loud clink, and she heard sounds of motion behind the bedcurtains.
Hastily filling the tumbler with water, she opened them. Dominic looked much more alert than before, his eyes lighting eagerly on the tumbler. She helped him drink, since he was unable to sit up, and only spilled a little.
“How…did I….”
“Just rest now. You will over-tire yourself,” Ardhuin protested, and scrambled for the beef jelly and the spoon. “Here. It’s supposed to be good for you.”
He accepted the sp
oonful of jelly with some confusion, then his eyes bulged and he coughed. “S-strong!” he managed, after several minutes of coughing and two more glasses of water. Feeling guilty, Ardhuin dipped the tip of one finger in the jelly and tasted it. It was rather bland, at least to her. Well, that wasn’t going to work as a diversion.
“I suppose you are wondering what happened,” she said desperately, seeing him try to talk again. He nodded. “Do you remember searching the hill for the missing boy?”
He nodded again, watching her face closely. She had to be careful. Only tell him what she wanted him to know. “You found him, and the others took him back to Baranton.” So how had Dominic ended up here? “After they left, on the way back to your cottage you started acting strangely, and then you collapsed.” True enough so far, but now came the delicate part. “You weren’t making any sense, almost as if you were delirious. I managed to get you back on your feet, but you were clearly quite ill. I could not take you all the way back to your cottage, but we were not far from my house. With some assistance, you managed to reach this room before you collapsed again.”
He’d needed a lot of assistance, because he hadn’t been at all concerned with going anywhere. She’d done the relocation for both of them with magic. It was much quicker than using the stairs, and speed had been strangely imperative.
She didn’t want to remember now. Not while he was still lying there, so close. Ardhuin stepped away from the bed and fussed with the brandy bottle, dusting it off with her sleeve and wrestling with the cork. The label was faded and peeling, but still bore traces of gilt. She poured out a generous portion and returned.
“Try some of this. It might help.”
He took a tiny, cautious sip. She could see his whole body shudder as he swallowed, but he drank again when she offered the glass.
She had to ask. “Do you recall feeling ill?”
Dominic frowned, closing his eyes in concentration. “Remember the hill. Remember finding Alain.” His voice was stronger now, and didn’t sound so dry. “You used magic.” There was a little smile at the corner of his lips.
Ardhuin froze, holding the brandy glass like a shield. “Are you sure about that?” she said faintly, trying for a disbelieving look.
“I can see it,” he answered, soft but confident. “Remember?” Definitely a look of mischief in his eyes now.
She’d been so sure he wasn’t looking! Fuming, she held the brandy to his lips and tilted it, spilling some. He coughed and she made him drink again. He looked at her reproachfully.
“Is that really a good idea?”
“You are suffering from overexposure to magic. You need stimulants,” Ardhuin said firmly. “How do you feel?”
“I can’t move and everything hurts,” Dominic replied, grimacing. “Although the brandy is helping.”
Unfortunately for her plans, it seemed to be making him more alert, not less.
“Perhaps I should let you rest now,” she said, edging away.
“Could you help me sit up a little?” he asked, wincing as he tried to move. Ardhuin cautiously adjusted his pillows, but it was no use, she had to get close to him to lift him. Too close. He could look right at her. And she could see the darker shadows around his hooded eyes, how his face seemed more sharply gaunt than before, and feel guilty.
“How could I be overexposed to magic?” he murmured, puzzled. “You didn’t use that much, did you? I felt fine on the hill. Wonderful, in fact. Such a clear, pleasant night, and so much light.”
Ardhuin frowned. “It was rather dark on the hill. The trees blocked the moon.” Dominic hadn’t had a problem, though. She remembered that. “Do you recall anything else strange?”
Dominic looked up at the top of the canopy, eyes unfocused in thought. “Everything felt alive, intense. Smells, and sounds. And I saw light.”
She gasped, suddenly understanding. “It was the ley lines. I should have thought of that—but nobody’s ever mentioned it before! Your sensitivity to magic,” she explained, seeing his puzzled expression. “The power in the ley lines overwhelmed you. I should never have let you go there.”
“But I felt fine even after we returned,” protested Dominic. “I can remember walking back with you, and thinking if you carried a gun you were afraid of something and I should—”
“How did you know I had a gun?” Ardhuin interrupted, feeling cold. He remembered too much, knew too much.
Dominic closed his eyes. “I could smell it,” he whispered. He opened his eyes again, and with a visible effort turned his head and looked up at her. Ardhuin, standing at the edge of the bed, suddenly had difficulty breathing. He stared at her intently. “You have to help me remember. It’s so confusing at the end. The roses, and the magic all over your house. Then the moon is floating over me and it’s so beautiful but I’m sad because I can’t see you.” His voice faltered for a moment. “Maybe I was feverish then, because the next thing I remember, the moon had turned into your face, above me just like you are now. I didn’t even wonder at it. Just like the moon, beautiful and too far away.”
Ardhuin knew she should leave, but his words had shocked her into immobility. So he hadn’t confused her with someone else—he’d simply been delirious with magic. Still, it was quite gratifying. She must always remember what he said.
His forehead was creased with effort, and she offered the brandy glass as a distraction. There was just a little at the bottom, and she had to hold it cupped in her hand to let him drink. Her hand just touched his cheek, and she felt the reaction, heard the sudden sharp intake of breath.
“It was just a dream,” she said quickly, before he could say anything. “It wasn’t real.”
“How do you know what was in my dream?” Dominic said softly.
Quick. She had to think quickly!
“You were raving. Talking about fire and silk and rose petals,” Ardhuin babbled. She felt the sudden heat in her face and quickly turned away. “Now get some sleep.”
She heard a faint keening noise behind her before she reached the door, and she knew she had failed.
“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” she heard him whisper. “Ardhuin! Tell me the truth! Was it a dream, you and I?”
More practice lying. How many times had she promised herself she would? She knew she wasn’t good enough to fool Dominic. She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t dare face him. She shook her head.
There was a long silence in the darkening room. At last she could no longer stand the suspense and turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, and tears trickled from the corners.
“How can you be so kind to me now? I deserve to suffer.”
Ardhuin set her jaw and turned back to him.
“If anyone is to blame, I am. I wasn’t out of my mind with the effects of the ley lines. You couldn’t even stand up without help! Do you really think you could force me to do anything against my will? I even had a gun!”
“And magic,” Dominic said. “A gun and magic, and I knew about both and I didn’t care. I abused your friendship and your trust in an unforgivable way.” Another tear slid down his cheek.
Ardhuin sighed. “You were drunk with magic. How can you be responsible for your actions? It’s my fault for not stopping you. I know—” she had to stop for a moment to regain control of her voice. He was so miserable, and now she was, too. “I know it was wrong. You…you don’t remember everything.”
“I remember enough,” Dominic said bleakly. “But why didn’t you stop me?”
“I didn’t want to.” Ardhuin glared at him, arms folded. And if that didn’t convince him of her depravity, nothing would. Why was he so eager to claim all the blame for himself?
Dominic gave her a weary look, but did not pursue the subject. “I should not be here,” he said finally. “You should move me to my cottage. You can do that, can’t you? The same way you moved me before, in the library.”
Even in pain and half dead he could figure things out. What had she done to deserve this? She had enough trouble.
“Well, I can, but not now. I tried to move you, after…” she felt herself go red in the face again, but kept on stubbornly, “when you were sleeping. You cried out in pain as soon as the magical field got near. You’re too sensitized to magic right now. I can’t do anything until you recover.”
He digested this for a moment, looking drowsy.
“You need to sleep. Talking tires you.” She was certainly exhausted. Was that an expected consequence of what she had done? She knew so little, really.
He sighed. “Listening doesn’t tire me,” he said quietly. “Tell me how you became a magician.”
“Only if you lie still and don’t talk.”
He nodded. Ardhuin pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. In a way, it was a relief he knew. A relief to finally have someone to talk to.
“My great-uncle taught me. We visited, my family and I, when I was very young, and I did something that caught his attention. He said nothing, but remembered. Then, when I was sent to school in Rennes, he invited me to come and stay whenever I had holidays.”
She still didn’t understand why her mother had insisted on the fashionable Metan Seminary. It was not in Atlantea, and it was clearly intended to prepare one for a life of social events, parties, and the inevitable dazzling marriage—none of which would ever apply to her. Even before sending her to school, her mother had always dragged her along for social visits and other boring events her brothers were never subjected to.
“He gave me lessons during my visits, and he also gave me books I could take back with me. The book you have, that was the first.” His eyes lit up with sudden understanding. “I have to be careful, you see. I don’t have a license to practice magic, and what if someone reported me?”
Dominic looked at her with half-closed eyes, smiling a little. “I would challenge them to a duel.” Then he frowned, saying, “No, that wouldn’t work either, would it? My head hurts; I can’t think.”
Ardhuin got up, putting her hands on the edges of the bedcurtains. “I really think you had better sleep now,” she said. Ignoring his protests, she closed them and walked away.