“Please reconsider,” said the prince.
She spun around sharply. She had no idea when he’d vaulted into the room.
He stood with his back against the wall, his expression blank. “You do not even know where to go.”
But she did. The prince had said that his school was not far from London. She needed to be back in London. Master Haywood had advised her to wait near the end portal for as long as possible, for the arrival of the memory keeper. The move had its risks. But she did not plan to go back inside the madwoman’s house. She could monitor the house from outside, a nearby rooftop, perhaps—
“I would not even think about it.”
Her heart missed a beat, but she turned back to the valise, pocketed the coins, and pretended to check what else it contained.
“That woman in the attic knows who you are—or what you are, at least. She will have consulted other Exiles. There are informants among the Exiles. Atlantis will have the entire neighborhood under surveillance by now. The agents will strip the house of its protections for you to vault in, if you are desperate enough to try. Do it, and it will be the last anyone sees of you.”
She felt nauseous. “Britain is a large realm. My options are nearly endless. As you yourself said earlier, Atlantis, great as it is, cannot hope to locate me so easily in a land of millions.”
“You are not as anonymous as you think. Your jacket is part of the Eton uniform. It will mark you anywhere as an Eton boy. The natives will wonder why you roam about when you should be at school instead—and they will remember you.”
She broke into a sweat. She could reveal herself so easily, without even being aware of it. “All I have to do is to change.”
She exchanged the jacket for a brown one from the valise.
“If only it were so easy. In the countryside, where everyone knows one another, you will be too conspicuous. So you must go into cities, where anonymity is possible. But you do not know which parts of a city are safe for a well-dressed young man, and which will get you robbed and possibly beaten. And before you reassure me again how handy you are with your fists, how many grown men can you take on at once, without resorting to elemental powers?”
“If you aim to convince me that every place out there is dangerous for me,” she retorted, “you have not succeeded.”
But he was coming awfully close.
“Every place out there is dangerous for you. Have you not realized this yet?”
She wished he wouldn’t speak so quietly and reasonably. “More dangerous than here? You will lead me to my death.”
“I will lay down my life for you. Do you know anyone else who will do that?”
I will lay down my life for you. The words had a strange effect on her, a pain almost like a wasp sting to the heart. She shut the valise. “Can you promise me I will live? No? I thought not.”
He was quiet. Saddened. She had not perceived it earlier, but now she saw that there was always a trace of melancholy to him, a heavyheartedness that came of being entrusted with too great a burden.
“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to help herself.
He walked to the window and looked toward the darkening sky. His left hand tightened on the curtain. She could not be completely sure, but it seemed that he shivered.
“What is it?” she asked.
He remained silent for some more time. “The stars are out. They will be quite beautiful tonight.”
He turned around and came toward her, his wand raised. She took a step back, uncertain of his intentions. But he only tailored the brown jacket to fit her.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“If you are going to be caught by Atlantis, you might as well look your best.”
She wanted to snort coolly, but could do nothing of the sort. She seemed to have a ball of sawdust in her throat.
“So . . . this is good-bye.”
“It does not need to be.”
She shook her head. “You took the risks for a reason. Since I can’t give you what you want, I shouldn’t put you at further risk.”
“Let me decide how much risk I am willing to bear,” he said softly.
This almost undid her altogether. If he would shelter her even when she would not help him . . .
No, she must not let herself become starry-eyed again. “I can’t stay, but thank you, in any case, for telling me the truth.”
A shadow darkened his eyes before his face quickly became unreadable. He placed a hand on her shoulder. For a moment she thought he would pull her in and kiss her, but he only drew the pad of his thumb across her forehead, a princely benediction.
“May Fortune walk with you,” he said, and let go of her.
CHAPTER 8
DéJà VU.