“He would have left you four months ago if that was all he’d cared about,” said my sister-in-law flatly.
I pulled myself upright, shaking myself out of the maudlin memories as I gathered my strength and turned to face her. “Wrexham is a good man,” I said wearily. “He would never willingly abandon anyone in need, much less someone he’d cared about. And when you add in his sheer, bloody-minded stubbornness...”
“Yes?” Amy raised her eyebrows, looking ironic.
If there was a message in that expression, I had no interest in reading it. Instead, I gritted my teeth and met her gaze full-on. “I have no interest in being Wrexham’s pity project,” I bit out, “or the burden hanging about his neck. And fortunately, I don’t have to resign myself to either fate—because, although you seem to have somehow forgotten this, we are no longer betrothed!”
“Hmm.” Amy gave me a measuring look. Then, maddeningly, her lips curved into an understanding smile. “You are tired,” she said. “It wasn’t only an excuse after all.” Reaching out, she patted my arm consolingly. “I’ll see you at supper-time. You’ll feel better by then.”
Argh! I had to press my lips together to keep my groan of frustration from emerging.
The moment that the door closed behind her, I gave in. Scooping up a pillow from the bed, I pressed it to my face and let out a safely muffled howl.
There was some satisfaction in letting my feelings out, after all. But it couldn’t change the truth.
In only two hours, the supper bell would ring. Wrexham would be waiting. So would Amy...and so would a whole party full of happy, practicing magicians, laughing and toasting and arguing over spells that I would never, ever be allowed to cast again.
Cowardly though it might be, I wanted to barricade my bedroom door and stay hidden in this room for the next two full weeks of our visit. But...
“You have one se’ennight.” The elf-lord’s remembered voice whispered in my ear.
I set my teeth and braced myself as I dropped the pillow back onto my bed.
It was time to prepare myself for an evening of social gaiety...because like it or not, I had a rogue magician to catch and only one week in which to do it.
6
When the supper bell sounded, deep and pure, two hours later, I rose from the edge of my bed where I’d been waiting and walked toward the door with my head held high. No more hiding, I told myself firmly.
I had drunk a full pot of hot, fortifying tea. I had spent a satisfying half-hour coming up with my most inventive curses for the situation. And most importantly of all, I had prepared myself for social warfare.
If there was one thing that Angland’s greatest politician had successfully taught her recalcitrant daughter, it was the usefulness of a really good set of sartorial armor.
Tonight, I was wearing my finest bronze silk gown with a golden, braided rope belted underneath my bosom and a chain of shining pearls around my neck. A shawl of shimmering fey-silk was draped gracefully around my shoulders, and my long-suffering maid, Aoife, had arranged my hair into a braided crown worthy of Boudicca herself.
I was ready. No matter who or what awaited me outside—whether it was Amy, Wrexham, or the elf lord himself—I would meet them with calm confidence and sweep unhindered on my way.
I turned the stag-shaped door handle and stepped out onto the carpeted corridor, braced for battle.
It was empty. From the top to bottom of the long hallway, I didn’t see a single soul.
My shoulders sagged with relief. Letting out my held breath, I turned left and started at an easy pace for the staircase...just as the door across from mine flew open.
“Oh!” The voice that spoke behind me was young, female and breathy, and it was all too horribly familiar. “What a surprise! I mean, Miss Harwood, what a marvelous coincidence it is that we both happened to be ready at the exact same moment!”
Oh, for...
It was the most appallingly bad acting that I had ever witnessed. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain as I stopped, forced by courtesy to reply despite myself.
“Miss Banks,” I said flatly. “What a marvelous coincidence indeed.”
“Isn’t it?” Beaming, she swooped in on me, letting her door fall heavily shut behind her. No longer covered by a heavy cloak, her fair hair was curled into fine ringlets about her thin white face, which was gently flushed with excitement. “I was so hoping to find the chance to have another chat with you!”
“Were you?” I asked dryly. “I had no idea.”
But it was impossible to escape such a well-planned ambush with mere sarcasm. Smiling hopefully, Miss Banks took her place at my side. “Shall we walk to supper together?”
I hesitated, my gaze searching the corridor with real hope this time. If only another guest would emerge to join us now...
No such luck. Every door in the corridor remained firmly closed, and the sound of convivial cheer floated up through the floorboards. Apparently, we were the last stragglers. So be it.
“How delightful,” I said, and strode down the hallway as swiftly as I could.
She hurried to keep up. “I’ve been longing to speak to you for simply ages, Miss Harwood! You have no idea how many questions I want to ask you. How you managed your entry into the Great Library in the first place, and whether it was difficult to be the only lady there, and, if you would—if you could explain to me exactly what went wrong, when you lost your powers all those months ago—”
“Miss Banks.” I swung around, stopping in my path and baring my teeth in the vicious parody of a smile. “I have not lost my powers. I am perfectly capable of casting a spell now with just as great an effect as I could have managed five months ago.”
“But...” Her blonde eyebrows drew together. “I thought—that is, everyone said...you know, everyone has been saying—”
“The spell would still work,” I said tightly, “but I wouldn’t.” At the sight of her baffled expression, I jerked my shoulders impatiently, trying to loosen the knotted muscles of my back. “Casting any spell, even a small one...would kill me. Apparently.”
“Because—women really aren’t suited to magic, after all?” Her brown eyes looked suddenly huge and tragic. “Is that why it happened?”
“No!” I snapped. “Being a woman had nothing to do with it. The same could have happened to any gentleman magician—and it has in the past.” Not often, certainly; but it was enough of a risk that our teachers at the Great Library had warned us of the danger of over-extending ourselves in our training, and Jonathan had found mentions of similar incidents all throughout the library’s historical records. The effect was rare, but hardly unheard of.
I had still thought, at the time, that it was worth the risk...but only because I’d never actually believed that any such thing could ever happen to me.
The memory of my own reckless folly was unbearable.