Yet he frightened me, too, with the way he wanted.
Still, perhaps this was where my path had always been meant to lead. Perhaps the monster I concealed within myself could only be governed by him, and vice versa. And I had my magicians, wherever they might be, along with the non-magical folk shut out from sorcerer protection. They would need someone to speak for them. So, taking a breath, I nodded.
“Yes?” Blackwood sounded amazed.
“Yes, I will marry you,” I said. He kissed me.
His lips were soft, but that was the only gentle thing about his embrace. There was no heated teasing as there had been with Magnus, no sense of homecoming as with Rook. His hand gripped in my hair, he claimed my mouth again and again until he was satisfied. When I moaned in shock, he ran a trembling hand down my body. The sleeping thing inside me awoke and unfurled itself, responding to his call. Despite my pain, I also found my lips parting with an unexpected flush of pleasure. Only when I was returning his kiss did he let me go, to make me crave more.
He took me to my feet, his eyes glowing in triumph. At last he’d got what he wanted.
It was both thrilling and frightening to see.
“We will be happy together,” he whispered, tipping my chin and catching my lips until I pulled away.
“Above all,” I said, “we will be strong.”
We left London the next morning, our carts and carriages banging over the rubble-strewn streets. The sorcerer army assumed the rough shape of an arrow, with Blackwood and his most reliable Masters at the front, and the uninjured men fanning out behind them. This allowed Her Majesty, the provision wagons, and the wounded to be protected on all sides. As we passed out of the city, a sense of gloom permeated the air.
For the first time since the Norman Conquest, there would be no sorcerers in London.
I should have ridden with Blackwood but instead lay shuttered inside his carriage, wincing at every sharp movement. Maria was trying to keep me asleep as much as possible to ease my pain, but even she could not stop the dreams.
My nightmares had teeth, and they dogged my heels. In sleep, I glimpsed yellow eyeballs and curved talons, heard whispers in a language that should not exist. When I resurfaced from another fevered rest, shaking and sweating, Maria would feed me some broth or another potion. When I couldn’t drink any more, she’d sit with me.
Had it been this way for Rook? The feeling that, day by day, the dark washed over him with the relentlessness of waves on a beach?
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.”