A Shadow Bright and Burning (Kingdom on Fire #1)(20)

“I am here to spirit you back upstairs. Don’t swoon,” he said.

“I’ll try not to.” I rolled my eyes and brushed past him. Emerging into the foyer, we found servants dimming the lamps. Everyone else had gone to bed.

“Well,” he said as we climbed the stairs, “congratulations. You’ve survived your first dinner with bloody Master Palehook. An Incumbent rite of passage. This calls for celebrations. I’d compose a sonnet on the occasion, but all I can think of that rhymes with Palehook is bailbook.”

“It can wait till morning,” I said. “Thank you for your help.”

I turned to walk down the hall but stopped when Magnus said, “By the by, I hope you won’t set me on fire for asking this.” He leaned against the banister. “But I have to know: How long has that boy been in love with you?”

All the air left my lungs. When I managed to speak again, I said, “Rook is not in love with me. He’s been my friend since we were children.”



“All right, all right.” Magnus tried to hush me.

“No.” I gripped the railing. Between Palehook’s veiled threats during dinner and Magnus’s behavior downstairs, I could no longer contain myself. “You shouldn’t make comments like that. And you shouldn’t tease him like you did in the kitchen.”

“Steady on,” Magnus said. He frowned.

“He’s a servant. He’s not allowed to answer back to you. It’s easy to poke fun at the world and think yourself clever, but it’s much harder to stand silent and endure.” With that, I turned for my room. Magnus stepped in front of me, blocking my exit.

“You’re right,” he said, bowing his head. “I behaved badly. The problem with being the adored only son of a widow is that everything I do is made out to be clever, even when it isn’t. Please accept my apology.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Well…you should apologize to Rook as well.”

He nodded. “I shall.”

I hadn’t expected to win the argument this easily. “Then thank you.”

“Of course. Actually, I like when women yell at me. It makes a nice change from all those adoring love letters.” He posed tragically. I laughed; I couldn’t help myself. “In all seriousness, I never meant to insult your friend. It’s wonderful, you two being thick as thieves.” He tilted his head. “You must have had an unusual upbringing.”



“To say the least.” I wasn’t sure why I should say this to Magnus of all people, but there was something genuine in his interest. “Rook was the one steady part of my childhood.”

“In that case, he’s a lucky young man,” Magnus said. “Anyone who could be so indispensible to you would be fortunate indeed. Forgive me?”

I felt strangely hot. Were young men allowed to give such compliments? “Of course.”

“Anyway, I don’t mean to push in where I’m unwelcome. It’s just that I haven’t been this excited since the Christmas when I was eight years old.”

“Why?” I found myself smiling.

“Because our cook made two plum puddings at my request. I was sick for days, but, oh, it was worth it.”

“No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I mean, why are you excited now?”

“Because you’re going to be a lady sorcerer. I think the idea of women doing proper magic is brilliant. Those stuffy Order meetings and congregations will liven up considerably with a few petticoats thrown into the mix.” We walked slowly down the hall toward my door.

“Well, it sounds as if you take the concept of female sorcery quite seriously.”

“I never take anything seriously, but I am delighted by the thought of ladies working magic. Women raised me, you know. My mother and my grandmother, God rest her soul. I had a governess, Miss Watkins, whom I simply adored. Ladies are so much cleverer than gentlemen. They enjoy good conversation and great fun, two things without which I cannot live.”



“Life truly is just a game to you, isn’t it?” I said, almost impressed.

“I’m always on the lookout for a worthy opponent.” He laughed as we stopped outside my room. “Look, I believe we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s reintroduce ourselves, eh?” He bowed low before me. “I am Mr. Julian Magnus, your obedient, humble, and ever-loyal servant, Miss…?”

“Henrietta Howel.” I was not going to laugh.

“An honor, Miss Howel. Please, you may address me as Mr. Magnus, or just The Great. That’s the Latin for Magnus.”

“I knew that.”

“You are brilliant. Now I take my leave. Adieu. Bonsoir. Good evening.” He kissed my hand, his lips soft against my skin. Then he was gone.

I would remember how exasperating he could be the minute I finally stopped smiling.





Gwendolyn Agrippa sat before the mirror, crying and running an ivory comb through her fine hair. I reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away, her face twisted in fury.

Tap, tap, tap.

The old magician with the dark skin and the multicolored coat sat at the foot of my bed.

“I knew it,” he said.

This was clearly a dream. Everything in the room lay faded in mist, except for my visitor.