Circle of Fire (Prophecy of the Sisters, Book 3)

by Michelle Zink

  “What are you thinking about so seriously in your bed?”

  The voice is lazy and startles me from my thoughts. I sit up, the embroidered coverlet dropping to my waist as I follow the voice to the figure near the closed door.

  “Dimitri! You startled me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “You were deep in thought. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

  He walks slowly toward me, sitting on the edge of the bed. His weight on the mattress, his proximity, the smell of brandy and fire smoke… It all makes me feel flush and overly warm.

  “Did you have a nice visit with Gareth? Is he comfortable in your room at Elspeth’s?” It is not a very witty attempt to distract myself from Dimitri’s presence, but it’s all I have in the moment.

  He flashes me the grin of a rogue, lying down next to me atop the coverlet. “He said he’s most comfortable, though I’d say not nearly as comfortable as I.” His eyes travel to my lips and then to the place where the ribbon of my nightdress ties near my collarbone.

  “You,” I say, placing two hands on his chest and giving him a gentle shove, “are a very bad influence. You’re supposed to be in the chair.”

  He wraps his arms around me, pulling my body close to his, and though the coverlet is between us it does little to dampen the rush of blood through my veins.

  “Do you want me to go?” he asks.

  “Yes… No… That is, you should go.” My voice weakens as he kisses first my cheek and then the tender skin at the base of my throat. “You must.”

  “Must I?” A shiver races up my spine as his warm breath moves over my neck.

  I sigh, pressing closer to him for a moment despite my best intentions. I do not want him to leave. Not this bed. Not me. Not ever.

  “Well…” My breath is a whisper into the room. “Maybe not yet.”

  And then his mouth his on mine. His tongue slips between my lips, and I am lost in the heat of our kiss as the room tilts beneath me. My hands come up as if they have a mind of their own, stroking his broad back until I wish there was no coverlet, no clothing separating our fevered skin. Everything falls away as we push the boundaries laid before us, those set by Aunt Virginia and society itself. There is nothing but the press of Dimitri’s body to mine.

  Then he is pulling away with a soft groan, sitting upright. His breath comes hard and fast.

  I do not have to ask him why he’s pulled away, and I give him a moment to collect himself. I take advantage of the time to will away the fire still burning in my belly, to clear my head of the desire-fueled fog that has settled there.

  When the rise and fall of Dimitri’s breath seems more regular, I touch his back softly.

  “I’m sorry. It is difficult not to be carried away, isn’t it?”

  He turns to look at me, his eyes unreadable. “Difficult does not begin to describe the discipline I must use when I’m close to you, Lia.”

  I smile, finding an odd pleasure in the effort it takes for him to maintain his distance.

  “I don’t want you to go,” I say. “Do you think you could find the discipline to lie with me for a while? To lie with me, and nothing more?”

  He stretches out beside me, laying his head on the pillow next to mine.

  He grins wickedly. “Can you?”

  My laughter is soft. “It will be at least as difficult for me, I assure you. But I’m not ready to be alone with my thoughts just yet.”

  His face grows serious as he reaches up to touch my face. “And what thoughts would those be?”

  I take a deep breath. “I keep trying to think of something, anything, that will sway Alice from the path she has chosen. I cannot put it off any longer. I’ll have to see her tomorrow.”

  He lifts his head. “So soon?”

  “I must. Beltane is less than a month away, and there is still much to do before we can even think of leaving. Besides, what will change between tomorrow and the next day, or the next? I want to be done with it.”

  He nods. “I’ll come with you.”

  I look into his eyes and smile. “This I must do alone, Dimitri.” I hold up a hand as he begins to protest. “I know you mean to protect me. I do. But she’s my sister.”

  His eyes darken as he clenches his jaw. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “It isn’t. The next battle to take place will be waged at Avebury and on the Planes of the Otherworlds.” I reach out to smooth the worry from his brow. “Don’t you see? I finally figured out why the Guard did not give chase as we made our way from Loughcrew.”

  He waits for me to tell him.

  “They know that, finally, I have no enemy greater than myself. Without Aunt Abigail’s power in the adder stone, I am as weak as I’ve ever been. There is no need to send the Guard. Not now, when there is every possibility I will do the work of turning myself to their side.”

  Anguish shadows his eyes in the moment before he clasps me to him, burying his face in my hair. “You will never turn to their side, Lia. I won’t let you.”

  I don’t answer, for there is nothing to be gained by repeating the words that linger like smoke in the back of my mind: If only it were yours to decide.

  31

  I wait for Alice outside the Savoy the next morning. Concerned that she might refuse me, I have not announced my desire to see her, and I stand with my back against the stone wall of the hotel, waiting for her to emerge, as she undoubtedly will. Alice would never stay indoors on a day like this one. Spring has finally come to London, and the day is capped with a crystalline sky.

  I plan to rehearse my plea, to memorize exactly the right words to bring Alice to our side. But in the end, I can do nothing but stare at the hotel doors, my heart in my throat as I wait for a glimpse of my sister.

  She appears some time later, and I press my back against the wall, not yet ready to be seen. As she nods to the doorman on her way out, I recognize the curt tip of her head. Alice has never been fond of those she views as beneath her, and I wonder if she sees James, a common bookseller’s son, that way, too.

  She continues down the road, unmindful of those around her, her chin lifted as if in quiet rebellion. It is a strange sensation, to observe my likeness make her way down the street. To see the men offer her admiring glances as the women eye her jealously. I have never thought myself pretty, and I wonder with surprise if perhaps I am, or if it is Alice’s brand of confidence and aloofness that makes her the subject of so much attention.

  When she is almost half a block in front of me, I step away from the wall and begin to follow her fluttering cape. I tell myself it would be unwise to announce my arrival so soon. That it would be smarter to see where she’s going. To wait for a private place in which to speak.

  But I am scared. Not of Alice. Well, not entirely. No. I am scared to force this final worldly confrontation. To let go of my hope, however improbable, that she might be willing to help close the Gate to Samael.

  Alice makes her way past the many shops lining the street. It is not difficult to follow her without being seen. There are few people who carry themselves with as much assurance as Alice, and fewer still who pay less attention to those around them.

  She crosses the street and I speed up, making it to the other side just before a stream of carriage traffic would make it impossible to keep her in view. I follow her for a few more minutes and am not at all surprised when she turns to pass through the gates of a park, largely obscured from the outside world by the many large, leafy trees that form a wall around its perimeter.

  The park is a small one, and as I step through the entrance I find myself on a narrow cobblestone path. Alice seems nearer in such a confined space, and I drop back in order to stay out of view. We make our way deeper into the park, winding our way through the sun-dappled shade of the many trees on the grounds. I duck abruptly behind a tree as Alice finally comes to a stop at the edge of a pond, watching as she lowers herself onto an iron bench near the water’s edge. A family of ducks paddles in the distance, and I wonder if
she is naming them, as we used to do with the ones that lived in Birchwood Manor’s pond.

  Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage as I step away from the security of the tree. Say something now, I think, as I approach her from behind. Being in such close proximity makes me feel off-balance, and I am suddenly flooded with conflicting feelings of loathing, sadness, and, yes, love.

  Even now.

  I am a few steps behind her, preparing to say her name, when she speaks, her words carrying softly across the water. “Why are you hiding, Lia? Come and sit beside me, will you?”

  I am surprised, but not by the fact that she knows I’ve been following her. It’s the quality of her voice, the lack of anger, of passion, that startles me.

  I don’t answer. I simply step forward, taking my place next to her on the bench.

  I follow her eyes across the water, observing the ducks as they paddle their way toward us, likely trained to expect bread or food of some kind.

  “Do you remember when we used to ride our horses to the pond and feed the ducks old bread?” Alice’s voice is wistful, and in my mind’s eye I can see the fields surrounding Birchwood, my sister riding fast and strong in front of me, her hair blowing out behind her in the wind.

  “Yes.” It is difficult to speak around the heaviness in my heart. “You always rode too fast, too far in front of me. I was afraid of being left behind.”

  A smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “I was never as far away as you imagined. And I would not have allowed us to be separated, whatever you might have thought.”

  I take a moment to process this new information. Even so small an admission changes the way I view my sister. “Why did you do it when you knew it frightened me?”

  She gives a small shrug. “I suppose there was some part of me that relished your dependence. Your fear. But as to the real why of it, I honestly don’t know.”

  I look back out over the water. It ripples, gray and leaden, even in the light of the sun. I suddenly do not know what to say. How to begin. I search the opposite shore, studying the grass at its edge, the trees in the distance, as if they hold the words I need. I am not surprised when Alice speaks first.

  “I already know he doesn’t love me.”

  It is obvious she refers to James, but her words give me no sense of victory. “I wasn’t going to say such a thing.”

  She drops her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap. “You don’t have to. I see only you when I look in his eyes.”

  I let the words sit between us. Not to hurt Alice, but because I am trying to think of a way to motivate her to help us when she already believes James doesn’t love her.

  Finally, I can speak only the truth. “Whatever the situation now, Alice, James will not be able to love you if you refuse to aid us in closing the Gate. If he learns of your role in allowing Samael to rule the world as you desire.”

  “It seems I have only two futures available to me.” Her voice is soft, and without the rebelliousness that has always been characteristic of my sister. “Help you and live as a married woman to a man who loves my sister, or take my place beside Samael and rule the world.” She turns to look at me, her eyes a sharper green than I have ever seen them. “What would you do?”

  I consider her question, imagining myself in her place. It takes me only a moment to find the answer.

  “I would accept neither,” I say. “I would find a way to make a future for myself. One in which I might be loved, really loved, and one in which I did not have to trade power for that love.”

  She holds my gaze for a moment, and I think I see doubt flicker in her eyes. But it is a tiny flame, extinguished before I have time to be certain it is there.

  She turns back to the water. “Then you are a better person than I, Lia.” Her smile is wry, and when she speaks again, her words are shaded with a subtle sarcasm. “Then again, we did not need to have this conversation to determine that, did we?”

  I do not want to revisit Alice’s assertions that I was always the favored twin. “We all view things based on our own perceptions, Alice. But whatever you think, Father loved you. He loves you still. We all do.”

  She lifts her chin, avoiding my gaze. “All except for James.”

  Standing, I pace to the edge of the water, turning my back to her. “James is… Well, the situation with James is my fault. I didn’t—” I choke on the words, for even now the memory of leaving him, of hurting him, causes me sorrow. “I didn’t handle it as I should have. I didn’t talk to him as I should have. It left many unanswered questions in his mind.” I turn to face her. “But don’t you see, Alice? Those questions can be laid to rest now. I love Dimitri. James and I, well… Ours was a love for another time. Another place. If you will only stand with me to see the Gate closed, you might have a fresh start with him. You might have a chance at a life in which you can live, happily and in love, real love, without the shadow of the prophecy and your place in it.”

  She doesn’t answer for a moment, but when she does, it is not to speak of James, but of our father. “Did you know I used to watch you and Father in the library? I would stop by the windows outside the house or stand in the doorway to the room, watching the two of you, laughing and discussing books. It seemed so easy, the way you shared everything, but when I tried to take an interest in the library or Father’s collection, he would only half-listen, always eager to get back in your company.”

  I sigh. “I’m sure Father knew that you were not really interested in the library, Alice. He no doubt appreciated your effort but didn’t want you to have to make it.”

  “Of course. It cannot be that he simply wasn’t interested in me, can it?” Her voice trembles. “I was alone, Lia. Mother was dead. You had Father and James. Henry had Edmund. Aunt Virginia was always looking after you, even before I understood why she eyed me with suspicion.”

  Her words fall like lead. She’s right. The knowledge is a knife to my heart, for doesn’t that make me as culpable as Alice in her choice to deny her role as Guardian? Isn’t it possible that, if given the love that she was denied, Alice might have aligned herself with the cause of the Sisters?

  I cross the rocky path to resume my place beside her on the bench, turning my body toward her and taking her warm hand in mine. “I suppose I never realized you were lonely. You always seemed so happy. So carefree. Talk of the library appeared to bore you, and after a while I suppose I stopped trying.”

  “I didn’t want you or Father to see how much it hurt. Didn’t want you to have that power over me.” She shrugs, looking away. “So I pretended not to care.”

  “I’m sorry, Alice. Sorry to have caused you pain.” It is more difficult than I expect to say the words. Not because it isn’t true, but because of Henry. Because every injustice, every sorrow inflicted upon Alice seems deserved in light of what she did to Henry.

  But I say the words. I say them because Alice needs to hear them, and yes, I say them because I must if I am to have any hope of gaining her support.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Her throat ripples as she swallows the emotion of a moment ago.

  “Perhaps not,” I say. “Can we put the past behind us, then? Can we work together to close the Gate to Samael so that we might begin again? So that you might begin again, with James?”

  She pulls her hand slowly from mine, tucking it into her lap and looking back out over the water.

  “It isn’t my place,” she says simply.

  It is a strange statement, and I find I must make an effort to hide my annoyance. “But it is your place, Alice. As Guardian, it is your place more than any other.”

  “You must try to understand, Lia.” Her voice seems to come from farther and farther away, and I have the distinct impression that I am losing her. That my window of opportunity to bring her to our side is closing. “I have always been one with the Souls. Have always been an aid to their cause. Always.”

  Her words resonate with a finality I cannot deny.

  My heart is once a
gain heavy in my chest as I answer. “So you will not come to our aid? Will not fulfill your role as Guardian, even as you stand to lose James?”

  She turns to me. “I’m sorry, Lia. It’s too late. I don’t know who I am if not the one to aid the Souls in their cause. It is too much a part of me. Too much a part of my purpose. Without it, I think I would cease to be.” She stands, gazing down at me with something sad and indescribable in her eyes as she prepares to leave. “I’m sorry for you, Lia, and I wish you luck in fulfilling your destiny. I’m afraid you’ll need quite a lot of it.”

  32

  I do not respond to the soft rap on the door, but Dimitri enters anyway. He crosses the room in silence, sitting next to me and gently pulling me into his arms. At first I resist, but it does not take long for my body to lean into his.

  Smoothing my hair back, he kisses the top of my head. “She said no?”

  I do nothing for a long moment, not wanting to acknowledge the truth. But there is no time for pretending, and finally, I nod.

  I feel the sigh lift his chest. “I’m sorry.”

  Sitting up, I pull my knees against my body, wrapping my arms tightly around them. “It was naive of me to think it would be so easy.”

  He shakes his head. “Not naive—optimistic. It would have been foolish not to try.” He shrugs. “Now we know.”

  I stare into the fire, not wanting to meet his eyes. “For all the good it does us.”

  In my peripheral vision I see him run a hand through his hair. “We will simply wait, that’s all. We’ll continue to work on Alice, and we’ll wait until next year at Beltane. It doesn’t have to be this year.”

  I lay my head on my knees, turning to look at him. “I cannot wait, Dimitri.”

  “Yes.” He nods. “You can. The prophecy doesn’t dictate a specific year. It simply says you must gather on the eve of Beltane. If it takes us another year to convince Alice, so be it. If it takes ten years, so be it.”