A Shadow Bright and Burning (Kingdom on Fire #1)(76)

“I thought I saw…” Blackwood paused as he studied Rook. He shook his head. “Probably hit my head too hard.”

To change the topic, I said, “Thank God you sensed something. Who could they have been?”

“London’s full of dangerous men,” Blackwood muttered. “This is why you must never leave the ward again without a companion.”

We helped him to his feet and let him lean on us both as we shuffled toward home.

Once we were inside, Agrippa and the housekeeper fussed over Blackwood. Rook seized the opportunity to slip away.

Soon as I could, I ran up the stairs to the servants’ corridor and knocked on his door.

“Rook. Please let me in.”

After my third round of knocking, he said, “I don’t trust myself, Nettie. You must stay away.” His voice sounded strained, as though he was lifting something. Or, perhaps, holding something at bay.

I pressed my palms against the wood. I wanted to claw my way through. “I’d feel so much better if I could see you.”

“I want to let you in,” he groaned. I heard him move farther away from the door. “But I can’t.”

“The ball’s the day after tomorrow. All you need to do is hold on till then. All right?”

“Yes.” His voice was so, so faint.

Only a few more days. Rook could hold on. He would.

He had to.





Lilly helped me into a crimson gown, an outfit I’d not yet worn. I was determined to enjoy this night. Rook was secure in his room, excused from work on account of the afternoon’s attack. That was a comfort; my nerves were raw.

“First time at the theater.” Lilly sighed. “You’ll need something ever so special.” She showed me a paper bundle. “For your hair, miss. From the garden.” They were several red roses, the perfect color of my dress. We de-thorned the flowers and inserted them in my hair where they might stay. When I turned for her, Lilly clapped. “Beautiful!”

I went downstairs, following the sound of the boys’ voices and laughter. When I appeared, everyone fell silent. Dee grinned. Even Lambe and Wolff gave me an appreciative nod. But I felt Magnus’s eyes on me from the moment I came down.

“Shall we?” he murmured, offering his arm.

The carriages dropped us at the theater, directly into a cluster of fashionable people. We entered the red velvet foyer. High mirrors in gilded frames reflected the crowd, giving the impression of a churning sea alive with faces and conversation. Burnished candelabra illuminated murals of pink-and-white ladies seated atop fluffy clouds, playing lyres and surrounded by winged cherubs. We looked about until we found Blackwood and Eliza. The instant she spotted me, she kissed me on both cheeks and took my hands.



“I’m so glad you’ve come. I wanted to show you this particular cut of gown. Do you like it?” She did a full turn for my benefit, charming in an emerald-green dress with puffed sleeves. She fluttered her black lace fan.

“It’s lovely.”

“I told Madame Voltiana to make its style into an especial cut for your commendation, since it’s so fashionable. Do you plan on drinking any champagne tonight? George won’t even let me try it,” she said, tapping her brother’s arm with her fan. He shook his head and smiled. His sister was the only person on earth who could remove his stoic facade.

“I’ve never tasted it before, actually.”

“There! You see, George? If Henrietta gets champagne tonight, then so do I, and don’t tell me I can’t,” she said.

Magnus approached us. Eliza smiled and held out her gloved hand in a rather theatrical gesture. “Hello, Mr. Magnus. It’s been so long since we last met.” She batted her eyelashes.

“My dear,” Magnus said, kissing her fingers. “You’ve grown even lovelier. I didn’t think it was possible.” He bowed deeply as she giggled and fluttered her fan. God, they deserved each other. Blackwood cleared his throat and drew Magnus away.

With the young men gone, Eliza turned to me. “I’ve had a delicious thought. Once you’re commended, we can design a Howel seal. No one’s designed a new sorcerer’s seal in ages, so it’ll be marvelous! Are you partial to unicorns?”



“Not really,” I said with a smile.

“Oh. Well, just a small one, then.”

At some point, we were obliged to take our seats in Blackwood’s box. We’d a good view of the stage. Men and women squinted through small pairs of opera glasses to better watch the play, and to better watch one another. I wondered, uncomfortably, if any eyes turned toward our box. I craned my neck to look up at the domed ceiling, at the crystal chandelier, at the red velvet drapes and the magnificent painted screen in front of the stage. I could never have imagined such a place, and I was so overwhelmed I scarcely read my program. As the lights dimmed, small, mothlike creatures fluttered down before us. I almost swatted them with Eliza’s fan.

“Don’t,” she whispered, “they’re usher faeries.” Indeed, upon closer inspection I noticed the small human creatures attached to those wings. The one in front of me shook its silver-blond hair and giggled, a thin, almost inaudible sound. The faeries flew to the stage, and the play began.

I enjoyed every moment. The four lovers were hilarious, though I found Helena stupid with all her crying and screaming. Titania and Oberon, the faerie king and queen, were so beautiful it practically hurt. Titania’s skin glowed even when she stood far away from the lights.