I did as commanded. “Your Majesty. I am your humble servant. I seek your royal commendation to take up arms against England’s foes, and to defend Your Majesty’s life with my own.”
She placed a delicate hand on my hair. “I grant my commendation, Henrietta Howel, that you will take up arms in my defense, that you will live and die for my country and my person, and that your magic shall find its greatest purpose in the service of others. Rise and be known.” I stood again and towered over the queen. Tiny as she was, I bowed my head to her as my leader.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
She smiled. “In time, I believe I will have you to thank, Miss Howel. We will all have you to thank.”
Ten days later, not too long after my more public commendation before the court and the Order, I wandered Agrippa’s garden, trying to grab a moment’s peace. There had been many parties and celebrations lately, what with Korozoth’s destruction, but I couldn’t enjoy any of them. The Queen was taking more of an interest in sorcerer affairs. And I was responsible. People who had claimed to be my allies snubbed me. I often felt alone when I went out in public.
There was one friend, however, I could always rely upon. “Howel, wait,” Blackwood called as he came over to me. I smiled to hear my plain surname from his lips at last.
“So I am a sorcerer now, my lord?”
“Yes. You may as well start calling me Blackwood. No need to stand on ceremony.” He proceeded with me about the grounds, stopping to admire the red roses in bloom. He plucked one and handed it to me. “Your seal, sorcerer Howel.”
“It would have to be on fire to be truly mine.” I laughed. My official house sigil was a burning rose. I liked it, though Eliza had been upset by the lack of unicorns.
“Have you any plans for where you’ll go now?” Blackwood asked. “Master Agrippa’s house will be closed soon.”
“I had planned on receiving my orders and going from there.”
“You can take orders while living with me. If that suits you?” he asked, with a quick glance. “I know you don’t have any money of your own. Eliza would love another lady in the house. Rook would come, too, of course.”
“Thank you for keeping silent about him,” I said. “I swear you won’t regret it.”
“I protect my friends.”
I smiled and took his arm. My dear friend, Lord Blackwood. Two months ago those words would have been impossible. “I accept. Where will the others go?” I thought of Magnus for a moment and hastened to quash the thought.
“Most of them will stay with their families. Wolff will rent rooms. Still, no one should get too comfortable. They say we’ll be deployed to Cornwall before the month is out. Nemneris is our primary concern now that Korozoth is dead.”
“I hope I prove equal to the task.”
“Do you think you won’t?” He stopped, surprised.
“Blackwood.” It felt strange to say his name. “I was born a magician. I’m still a woman doing men’s work. Suppose it is too much for me? Suppose I do go mad, like Gwendolyn Agrippa?”
“Women aren’t the only ones who can be swayed by dark choices,” he said. “You are stronger than you can imagine. I see it. In time, you’ll see it, too.”
We would have continued our walk, but Lilly stopped us as she ran out into the garden.
“Miss Howel! There’s something you ought to see!” She half dragged me into the house. “It’s in your room. I was packing up odds and ends, and there it was. Oh, miss, I daren’t go near it.”
There on my bed sat Mickelmas’s wooden chest. “How did it get here?” I whispered.
“I’m sure I don’t know, miss. It appeared right out of thin air. It started—ah, there it is again!” Lilly cried as the chest rocked back and forth on its own, bouncing atop the bed.
Blackwood tried to open it but couldn’t. “I should blast the thing,” he muttered, removing his stave.
“Wait.” I brushed him aside and laid my hand on the chest. It stilled beneath my touch. I knocked once, just to see what would happen, and the lid swung open. Inside, we found a single plain, folded piece of paper.
“What on earth does it say?” Blackwood asked as I took up the note. Written in an elegant, spidery hand were these words:
Never what you want,
ever what you need.
Until we meet again.
—M.
“It’s from Mickelmas.” So he was alive. I sighed in relief. “But it’s a magician’s box. I can’t keep it.” I threw the note into the chest and slammed the lid.
“Perhaps you should,” Blackwood murmured. “Normally I’d say caution is a virtue, but we need to know why it’s come to you.”
“What if someone sees?”
“No one has to know about it except the three of us.” Blackwood turned to Lilly. “What if I asked you to come into service at my house as Miss Howel’s lady’s maid?”
He wanted to keep her near. For my part, I would be glad of another friend.
“Yes, m’lord. I’d like that ever so,” Lilly said.
“You won’t speak of this to anyone?”
“Speak of what?” She batted her eyelashes in innocence.
“Nothing.” Blackwood smiled. “You can pack Miss Howel’s things later.” Lilly left, and we returned to staring at the chest. “We’ll keep it with us until we decide what’s to be done.” It was odd and touching to hear him so involved in my affairs.
“You’re putting yourself in danger, you know.”
“These are dangerous times. Speaking of, I need you to help me choose a new headmaster for Brimthorn. I hear the old one is untrustworthy.”
“I might have one or two recommendations.” I laughed. He helped me slide the chest beneath the bed. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“I told you that I would always give my allegiance to the prophesied one,” Blackwood said as we left the room.
“I’m not the one.” There was still relief in saying it. “You know that.”
“Well, as I said, we need you. The rest is titles. How important is a title, really?”
“Not important at all,” I said.
We turned back out to the garden, to enjoy the last of the July afternoon’s sun. We would have to hurry. Night was coming, and there were traces of a storm on the wind.
This is the single most daunting task I’ve faced during this process. Not only do I have to be short and succinct, which won’t happen, but I have to adequately thank all the incredible people who’ve made this possible.
Chelsea Eberly, for believing in this book, and for making it the best that it could be. Your suggestions challenge me to do better, and your questions lead me to the most exciting ideas. It’s sometimes embarrassing to think you understand these characters better than I do, but it’s always thrilling.
Brooks Sherman, for being an extraordinary agent and the first to see potential in this story. Thank you for guiding me through the insanity, and for not hanging up on our first phone call when I made weird noises and had no questions. You’re a gentleman and a scholar, and sometimes Batman.
Thank you to the wonderful people at Random House, including Mary McCue, Hannah Black, Melissa Zar, and Mallory Matney, for so much hard work and energy. Massive thanks to Nicole de las Heras, Hilts, and Tracy Heydweiller for the sensational cover design and packaging. Setting things on fire never looked so good.
Thank you to Jenny Bent, Molly Ker Hawn, and the incredible team at the Bent Agency for all your help and insight.
Brandie Coonis, yin to my yang, Spock to my Kirk, Pike to my Cole. The best friendships are a perfect balancing act. Thank you for your sharp eyes and sharper wit. More wine, Doris.
Alyssa Wong, for your creativity, your courage, your compassion, and Catbug. We’ll always have the Skinny Emo Space Lords. Yes, that’s in print now.
Isabel Yap, for writerly wisdom, grace, and sending me pictures of sad anime boys.
My cohorts from the Clarion Writers’ Workshop, who have become my second family. Team Rocketship Spatula forever. Thank you to Shelley Streeby, Karen Joy Fowler, and Kelly Link, who opened the door for me.