“She welcomed him back, but she had placed an enchantment about herself—he could never touch her again.”
“You make it sound rather her fault,” I said sharply.
Magnus lowered his eyes. “It wasn’t her fault. That was when the prince realized his greatest mistake. He had believed her to be a prize to attain. He had not known her: the strength and the honor of her. He had not known how the sight of her was sickness itself, and also the cure. To be near her was to suffer and grow stronger.” He looked to the stars.
“Could we at least stop calling him ‘the prince’?”
“I believe there was an oath never to speak of these things again,” he said. I stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at me.
“I’m relieving you of that vow,” I whispered. Magnus watched me with wide eyes. I kept my hands to my side, unsure of what to do.
He set his mouth in a firm line. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to be hurt.”
“How would I hurt you?” I said. “Because of Rook?”
Even saying his name was a wound, but Magnus shook his head. “No.” He glanced at my hands. “You still wear Blackwood’s ring.”
Indeed, I wore that blasted silver band with the pearl. Part of me wanted to rip it off and chuck it into the ice, but that wouldn’t be right. I simply slid it off my left hand and onto my right. “I need to return this to its rightful owner.” If Blackwood was still alive. My stomach cramped, even now, at the idea he was not. “But I can’t marry him, after what he would have done to Maria. Even after I told him the truth, he was ready to kill her.”
Magnus drew nearer. He was tall enough that I could raise my chin slightly, look up at him with caution…and hope.
“I’ve spent every night since we went to see that damned play wishing I could take it all back.” His hand faltered, but he traced a lock of hair away from my cheek. “Well, not all of it. The kiss in particular, I’d like to keep.” My laughter sounded weak. “Howel, you have to know that was the night I truly saw myself. I hated what I’d done and who I was. I never expected I’d regain your favor, but I at least wanted to be the sort of man who could earn it.”
My entire body vibrated, my blood bubbling in my veins like sparkling wine. When I leaned up to him on tiptoe, he put a gentle hand on my arm.
“Are you certain?” he whispered. That was the glorious thing. I felt utterly, unabashedly certain. There were no questions to ask as I brought my mouth close to his. His eyes fluttered closed. His breath hitched as his hand slipped around my waist.
“Yes,” I whispered. With a low moan, he kissed me.
Our first kiss, all those months ago, had been when we were tipsy. It had been full of fire and passion. There was the same explosive heat in this second kiss. He pressed his lips to mine, lining me up against the hard strength of his body. His hands roamed down my back, traced the curve of my waist. He claimed me, his kiss growing fiercer.
But there was also tenderness. He pulled away to plant a smaller kiss at the corner of my mouth. I placed a hand on his cheek, and he nuzzled my palm.
Running my fingers through his hair, I felt again how overwhelming it was merely to touch him. Magnus took my hands in his, kissed each finger in turn.
My face flushed as I remembered what I’d already given to Blackwood. “You don’t mind, do you?” I looked down at our joined hands. “That I’m…well, that Blackwood…” I couldn’t finish the words, but he understood.
“I don’t need to be the first man who loved you. Only let me be the last,” he said, and kissed me. Our embrace was no longer the burning, uncontrollable fire. He was the sun, all warmth and giving.
It was like waking from a dream to the morning light. Rook had been the one steady thing in my past, the rock to which I clung. Blackwood and I shared a destiny as deeply planted as anything the Speakers had ever prophesied. Magnus was different.
He teased me, and he listened to me. He was as comfortable being led as he was leading.
We were not hewn from the same rock or chosen by fate. We simply fit together because we chose it.
I had never known anything as easy, or as exciting.
“You’re not at all the person you used to be,” I whispered. He smiled.
“Neither are you. Yet I like you better with each day that passes. Isn’t that wondrous?”
Sighing, he placed his chin atop my head. I felt the steady beat of his heart against my cheek.
And then it began to snow.
“Quick, before we catch our death.” Laughing, we joined hands and ran. We arrived at the front of my tent and craned our necks about to search for onlookers. None to be found.
“Good night, my darling,” Magnus whispered, and kissed me again. The snow had frozen on his eyelashes and in his hair. It dusted his shoulders, clung to the front of his coat. He looked as though he were made of starlight as he dashed back down the hill.
Giddy, I entered the tent to find Maria and Fiona nestled before my fire. Fiona had laid her head in Maria’s lap, and Maria was stroking the girl’s raven tresses. She hummed “Black Is the Color of My True Love’s Hair.”
No wonder she’d liked that song so much.
Fiona sat up when I entered. Maria didn’t appear put out by my presence, but Fiona began to speak rather loudly.
“Well! There’s nothing like a good talk to, er, set you to rights.” Fiona blushed as Maria threw her arms around her neck. Smiling, I turned my back to give them some privacy, until Fiona blustered back out into the night.
“Don’t you have your own tent?” I grinned. Maria cocked an eyebrow.
“Aye, but it has people in it,” she answered. “The covens have been wanting to meet with me all afternoon.”
I began to heat some water for a wash, while she examined me closely. Her nose wrinkled in glee. “See I’m not the only one as had a pleasant evening.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. She grinned, and whistled as she left.
“It’s all right,” she said over her shoulder. “I always liked him.”
As we entered Yorkshire three days later, the scout informed us that another army was riding up the hill. “Thirty men at most, but they are sorcerers,” he said.
It could only be Blackwood. Relief and fear washed over me, and I tightened my hold on Gumdrop’s reins.
We did not have time for arguments. The equinox was mere days away, and we needed to be friends as quickly as possible.
“Let me speak to him,” I said to Magnus. He frowned, probably considering how such a meeting would go.
“I believe Her Majesty would like a word with Blacky as well.” He clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward while I followed with a lump in my throat. So much had happened since I had last seen Blackwood. There was so much to discuss, and none of it would be easy.
I rode with Magnus and the queen to the front of the ranks. Queen Victoria sat very straight in her saddle and glared with the full fury of a monarch in command. Blackwood met us at the head of his men.
He looked terrible. He had lost weight; his cheekbones were too prominent. His already slender physique looked all sharp angles now. Dark circles smudged his catlike green eyes, and his black hair was tangled. His triangular jaw was dusted with stubble; his clothes looked like he’d pulled them on in the dark. He seemed hollow.
But when he saw me, life sparked in his eyes. His mouth softened in apparent relief. Still, he did not rush to my side. There was business to attend first.
“Bring your sorcerers forward,” he told Magnus. “Have them swear fealty to their Imperator, and there will be no violence today.”
“Blackwood, how do you propose violence when you can’t sit a horse properly?” Magnus returned.
Blackwood’s eyes scanned me. I could not read his expression.
�
�I see you’ve found my bride,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “Actually, I found him.” Magnus snorted in laughter. “More than that, I’ve brought the queen an army.”
Blackwood scanned the ranks behind us with a wary eye. The men behind him looked as haggard and tired as he—I didn’t think they’d be difficult to bring to our side, with the promise of fire and food. I combed the ranks for Wolff and Lambe, and could have melted in joy when I found them. Lambe rode the same horse as Wolff; he’d been set in front, so that Wolff could keep him from falling out of the saddle. Lambe gazed blearily ahead, not appearing to notice anything.
Something glowed at Blackwood’s side: he’d tied the optiaethis to his horse’s saddle. God, I hated that damned thing. I needed to warn him. But I also found that I could not tear my eyes away from it. It seemed as though I could hear a thin voice calling out to me. Come, it said. Come to me.
Azureus had told us that the optiaethis beckoned all Ancients within a thousand miles. Chilled, I forced myself to look away.
“We’ll discuss everything in my tent,” Blackwood said.
To my shock, the queen rode into his path. “I have not given you permission to pass, Imperator.”
“You cannot stop us,” Blackwood said. The men behind him all put hands to their staves; they appeared to have got over Charles Blackwood’s treachery.
If I didn’t want this developing into a fight, I’d need to do something surprising.
“We must unite or we will die,” I said.
Blackwood’s eyes glinted with rage. “You must keep silent. Secrets can slip when one’s blood is up.” My father was his last remaining weapon. I would have to detonate that weapon myself.
I’d told enough lies and kept enough secrets for one lifetime.
“If you mean that I am R’hlem’s daughter,” I said casually, “that should be obvious.”
There was nothing now but to hope.
The queen regarded me as though I’d turned another color. Magnus winked; I got the feeling he was pleased. The crowd behind me broke out in bewildered murmuring, and Blackwood’s sorcerers appeared white with shock.
Blackwood gaped at me. I turned Gumdrop around to face the sea of people. “R’hlem’s true name is William Howel.”
“How the bloody hell do you know that?” Wilfred shouted. Around me, I could feel the crowd turning from shocked to frightened; outraged was usually the next step. I needed to work fast.
But more than that, I was sick to death of hiding what I really was, of feeling my pulse elevate every time anyone approached the truth.
“I know because he told me himself. My father was a magician who dabbled in the darker arts, but not for evil purposes. He wanted to prove to the king and to the Order that magicians are not England’s enemy. Nor are witches.” I caught Mickelmas’s eye in the crowd. He was paying close attention. “We are all branches sprouting from a similar tree.”
“How long have you known?” Wolff asked. He did not sound accusatory, merely baffled.
“Not long. I should have told the truth as soon as I knew it.” The queen regarded me with a wary expression. She did not trust me. “Now you may all punish me because of who my father is, a situation over which I had no control.” I turned Gumdrop around in order to face Blackwood’s sorcerers. “Or you can lay down your weapons and parley with me. There is only one way to defeat my father, and I have it.”
“What would that be?” the queen asked.
This was the part where everything could go pear-shaped. When we learned whether England would live or die.
I recalled Mickelmas’s words to me all those months ago. William had a vision of witch, sorcerer, and magician. All united. All equal.
“We must form a consortium,” I said. “Witch, sorcerer, and magician shall all work together, united in a common goal. Equal.”
No one spoke. Then Mickelmas began to laugh. It started as a giggle and flourished into a maniacal cackle. Truly not the most encouraging thing he could have done.
“A consortium?” Blackwood said the word as if it were poison. “It goes against thousands of years of tradition!”
“We cannot face R’hlem’s army without a united front. If we don’t do this, thousands of years of tradition will be wiped clean off the face of the earth,” I said. The men behind Blackwood started murmuring, and not in an encouraging way. In fact, the witches and sorcerers didn’t sound all that keen, either.
“We shall discuss this further,” the queen said, raising her voice as only a monarch could.
I was afraid that the different factions would begin breaking off, but the covens all agreed to stay, with Maria’s encouragement. Mickelmas, too, was able to corral the magicians. As we headed downhill to make camp, Mickelmas walked beside my horse. He drew out a spotted handkerchief to wipe tears from his cheeks, still giggling.
“What’s so amusing?” I asked, irritated.
“Forgive me. You see, it’s as if William Howel himself were speaking through you.”
* * *
—
GETTING MASSES OF PEOPLE TO AGREE on one simple thing was harder than I’d imagined. My initial proposal was to appoint one head of each magical “race.” That leader would answer directly to Queen Victoria.
But every magical group had its own issues with this proposal. There were six covens, none of which would declare one leader. The magicians argued among themselves for the fun of it. As for the sorcerers, some backed Blackwood, and others supported Magnus and me. The meeting ground rang with a cacophony of voices. At the head of the assembly sat the queen, looking like a new schoolmistress contending with a pack of unruly children. Finally, she shouted, “Enough!” The talking died quickly. “Proceed, Howel,” she said.
All eyes fixed on me, and I knew that many of the sorcerers regarded my attire—trousers, gray tunic—as belonging exclusively to witchery. I did not resemble one of “them” any longer, and that would make things more difficult.
“Great injustices have been carried out in the Order’s name,” I began, which apparently was the wrong first move. Everyone had an opinion, and everyone shouted it.
“The monsters killed my Bernard!” a magician woman cried.
“You think you’ve suffered? We lost our entire coven to their flames!” a witch shouted back.
“We must put these things behind us today,” I said, trying for order.
“You can say that as you’re one of ’em now!” a woman cried. It was Peg Bottleshanks, a magician I’d met in London.
“It’s your fault!” a sorcerer cried, pointing at the witch who’d spoken. “Everyone knows the history. We sorcerers formed because the witches exercised a tyranny over the men in their coven!”
“And you responded by driving us into the hinterland and burning us alive?”
Weapons were drawn. Violence seemed on the verge of breaking out. I had to act.
Maria and I found each other, our look kindling a flash of understanding. We stepped into the center of the circle. With a wave of her arms, the ground beneath us rattled and rumbled. That shut up the lot of them. I summoned fire, and together we wove a net of flame, vivid blue and crackling orange. Agrippa had once taught me pyromancy, divining through fire. I plucked an image of R’hlem out of my mind and projected it onto the flaming disc. It was a bit dramatic, but it worked. The sight of our true enemy hushed the room entirely.
“We didn’t pull this whole bloody army together for another scrap.” Maria dropped the fire and turned to the assembly. “I’ve witch and sorcerer parentage. Henrietta’s a magician’s child. Don’t you see it? The three of us’re not far removed.”
“Majesty, you’ve seen what Maria and I can do together. The three magical races are strongest when united.” The queen looked pensive. “The Order has ruled by ourselves, for ourselves, for entirely too long.
In the process, sorcerers have destroyed countless magical lives.” I did not forget what my aunt had told me of my mother. “So I propose that our three societies govern themselves equally, and jointly, with the monarch.”
“Are you daft?” Peg Bottleshanks shook her fist. “All you’ll do is put us under another person’s command. The Crown has no love for magicians or witches.”
Queen Victoria stood, hushing all talk.
“I have seen enough to know that sorcerers serve themselves first,” she said levelly. Blackwood, seated in the first row of sorcerers, paled with anger. “We face a great enemy who would tear our way of life apart. I can promise that should you join us, and should we take the day, there shall be a change in how we value magical life.”
The meeting quieted. Maria returned to her coven. They spoke together, nodded, and she approached the queen. Taking a knife from her belt, she cut a lock of her own curly hair and cast it onto the ground. “The Templeton coven seals itself in a bargain.”
A pause. Then another witch came forward, cut her own hair, and added it to the pile. Slowly, one by one and after discussion, coven leaders came forward. Six of them in all added their hair.
The witches had agreed to the consortium.
Mickelmas dragged me to the magicians’ side for counsel.
“Don’t trust it,” Peg huffed.
“This could be our chance, though.” Alice’s eyes brightened. “Besides, if we all die by R’hlem’s hand, what’s the point of keepin’ things as they are?”
Someone had placed a stool to the side of the group. It rocked back and forth.
“Alfred makes a good point.” Peg patted the stool. “We can’t trust a sorcerer, or a sorcerer’s girl.”
“That’s not what Alfred said,” I said flatly.
“Oh, now she speaks chair, does she?”
Bugger this.
Mickelmas cleared his throat. “What my dear burning rose is trying to say is…don’t be daft.” Not the most stirring words.
Of course. The burning rose: my sorcerer sigil and Mickelmas’s name for his magician army.
A Sorrow Fierce and Falling (Kingdom on Fire, Book Three) Page 23