“I chose England over you, and I’d do it again.”
“Is that so?” He sneered at my words. Once again our surroundings warped slightly. “Then the sorcerers are no longer enough for me. England will pay the price.” His expression filled with pure hatred. “The Kindly Emperor comes. You will all bear witness to his smile.”
I snapped back to consciousness with a cry, my shoulder burning. Blackwood had returned to the carriage and laid me against him while I slept. Instantly, he brought a flask of water to my lips.
“Are you all right?” he asked. I finished drinking and wiped my mouth with the back of my glove. Most ladylike.
“R’hlem,” I whispered. “Still alive.”
Blackwood took a shuddering breath. “At least now we know.” For a while we sat in silence. I buried myself against him, lost in the pine and snow scent of him. He had been out of doors, in the fresh air. I envied him for it.
Then, as if making a decision, he whispered, “Here.” Taking my left hand, he gently unbuttoned my glove at the wrist and slipped it off, a daring move. “I risked a trip back to the house for this. It’s tradition for the future Countess of Sorrow-Fell to wear it.”
He produced a ring from his pocket and slid it onto my finger. It was big for me, but hopefully I would come to fit it. A plain silver band, it housed a tiny pearl. I marveled at its small, perfect beauty.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He kissed my bare wrist, my pulse elevating at the touch of his lips. Alone in the carriage, his strict Imperator facade melted somewhat.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered. Damn. He could feel me shivering beneath his touch, but I couldn’t help it. The light sculpted his face in just the right way to make him look exactly like his father.
“I’m not afraid.” I meant it. Mostly.
The carriage came to such a lurching halt I nearly fell into Blackwood’s lap. He knocked on the roof.
“What’s going on?” But then he closed his eyes in relief, as though he could sense the answer. “We passed the barrier.”
I could feel it as well, a light tingling on my skin. Not the same pressure in my head that the ward had provided, but something more soothing and natural.
“Come,” he said, climbing out of the carriage. “I want to show you.” He helped me down and walked with my arm through his.
The mist was heavy all about us but dissipated as we came to the hilltop. Ahead of us, the most spectacular mansion glowed in the early-morning sunlight.
It was like something carved out of time. A marble colonnade decorated the front of the multistoried house, calling to mind temples of ancient Greece. Hundreds of windows sparkled, jewel-like, as the sun struck them. As the length of the house continued, it morphed from classical to the medieval. It bore the rough outline of a castle, but the turrets were corkscrew, the windows positioned at chaotic angles. It gave the impression that gravity did not apply, as though one might run down a staircase and somehow end up dancing upon the ceiling. In truth, it was a perfect estate from Faerie.
Nearby, a pond glittered, and an emerald lawn reached all the way into a dark fringe of trees. Black forest waited on every side of the estate, ancient beyond anything. Magic perfumed the air.
I thought again of the prophecy tapestry, how the girl’s white hand stretched out of a gnarled, dark wood.
It was all coming to pass, wasn’t it?
Blackwood whispered in my ear, “I’d hoped to bring you here alone, after we were married.” His lips grazed my temple. “But that can wait.”
Maria trotted up to us, her peacock cloak fastened about her shoulders. It was resplendent against her hair. “Good to be home?” she asked Blackwood. Her face had better color than I’d ever seen. Something about nature, and the north, appeared to agree with her.
“Very good,” he replied.
Maria grabbed my hand. “Come along. You must keep up your exercise.” She led me away as the other carriages and wagons pulled up the hill, and Blackwood turned away to deal with them.
“Look at it.” Maria parked us beneath the shade of an oak. “Did you ever think to see such a place?”
Did I read some fear in her eyes?
“Never.” I nudged her. “Are you ready for your great destiny?”
“If you’ll stay with me.” She sounded breathless. “Can’t see how I’ll do it alone.”
“Then we shall remain together, always.” As far as I could see it, she was now my great duty in life.
“Aye. Two of a kind, that’s us.” She stepped into the sunlight, which fired her red hair. I hung back, leaning against the tree. Maria strode farther into the light. Healthy and fearless, she was the ideal savior. While I, well, I found comfort in the shadows. Lighting my hand, I watched the fire play over my knuckles. Black still threaded itself through my blue flame. What could it mean?
Bother that. I focused on Maria.
Below us, Sorrow-Fell waited, the sight enough to ease my pain. Looking at the house, I noted the lush growths of ivy that decorated the walls and twined up the brilliant white columns, and I touched Porridge’s carved design. We were meant to come here, the stave and I. Even without prophecy, it had the touch of fate. Here, the kingdom hung in the balance. Here, all our destinies would be decided.
If book one is the courtship, book two is the marriage. In the first book, everything is wide open and wonderful, filled with possibility. The second book requires work and planning as much as love. Thankfully, there were many great people involved in this particular marriage. An odd thing to type, yes, but still true.
First thanks have to go to Chelsea Eberly, who is never too busy for a phone call, never less than certain that something will work out even when I’m convinced it won’t. Thank you for being a brilliant plotter, a helpful listener, and a tireless champion for these books. Every day I’m grateful that I get to work with you. I don’t deserve such luck, but I’ll happily take it.
Thanks to Brooks Sherman, who treats every question I have with intelligence and care, even when I ask something truly ridiculous. Thank you for making time, no matter how inconvenient it is. You’re a tremendous agent, an equally wonderful person, and a peerless brainstormer. Thank you for being in my corner.
Thank you to the incredible team at Random House, who have put so much into this series. Special thanks to Allison Judd, Casey Ward, Bridget Runge, Mary McCue, Hannah Black, Melissa Zar, and Mallory Matney. I’m proud to be a Random House author. Thank you, Ray Shappell and Christine Blackburne, for the gorgeous cover. Thanks also to the team at the Bent Agency, especially Jenny Bent and Molly Ker Hawn, for insight and support.