A Shadow Bright and Burning (Kingdom on Fire #1)(90)

“What was it?” I said.



“Why don’t you be quiet like a good girl. It’s nothing that concerns you.”

—

THEY HAD PORRIDGE, AND WITHOUT IT I was lost. I twisted my wrists about in the manacles over and over again, but there was no way I could work a hand free.

“You all right, miss? I mean, you don’t need water or nothing?” the guard said, peering at me through the bars as though I were some exotic animal on display. My golden ball gown was perhaps not the normal prison fashion. He smiled as he looked at me in my cage. Something about the expression on his face struck me as being overly friendly.

“No water, thank you.”

“You’re polite. Poor little thing.” He was a young blond man with a bit of a second chin. He leaned against the bars. “You know, they got different ways of treatin’ sorcerers and magicians. Sorcerers, they take the stave and chain ’em, and that’s that. With magicians, they chain the neck to the feet, so that they can’t stand up, and chain the hands behind the back. Gag ’em, too, so they can’t speak. Back in the old days, they’d even cut out the tongue. Master Agrippa ordered you was to be treated like a sorcerer. Very good of him.”

“Yes.” I tried to conceal my revulsion. Why was he looking at me in so familiar a way? “Can you tell me where I am?”

“The Tower of London. This is the magic wing. They built these cells for troublesome magic users hundreds of years ago.”



Another guard in uniform came down the stairs. “It’s my turn,” said a young man with a rough voice.

“No it ain’t. She’s mine for the night. They already told me,” my guard said, sounding annoyed. “Go on.”

“You’re due for a break.”

“Come back in an hour. I’m busy.” After some more hushed words, he sent the young man back up the stairs. The blond guard leaned against the bars. He smiled at me. “You got nothin’ to worry about from me,” he said. “Them others might mistreat you, bein’ a dangerous magician and all. I won’t hurt you.”

“Thank you,” I muttered. His gaze was unsettling.

“Lockin’ up a pretty little thing like you.” He sighed. “What’s the world comin’ to?”

I turned to the wall, considering. He thought I was only a weak, pretty little girl. What had Magnus said about acting? Show them what they want to see, and they’ll believe anything.

Concentrating, I set fire to the bottom of my gown and screamed. The guard threw open the door and helped me beat the flames out. Much to my distaste, I pretended to faint.

“Careful!” the guard said, catching me as I collapsed. He touched my cheek. “Poor, scared little thing, ain’t ya?”

“My powers are so temperamental,” I whimpered.

“How could they harm a sweet little thing like you?” he said, sounding cross. I gave a weary sigh. He lifted me up in his arms, set me down on my cot, and left. I forced myself to lie there for ten minutes, waiting for the right opportunity. “They taught you all this fancy magic stuff?” the guard said, returning to the door.



“Yes. I can’t control my power.” I sat up, shyly playing with a tendril of my hair. “It got so bad they had to teach me to give somebody else temporary access to my abilities.”

“Why would they do that?”

“In case I burst into flame and couldn’t put myself out. It was helpful to have a man who could take control.”

“Why would you give a sorcerer your power? Don’t they have their own?”

“No, this transferred my power to a normal person. The best magic to help me is my own. Anyone could do it, and the footmen in Master Agrippa’s house helped me practice. It was great fun for them, to be allowed to have a sorcerer’s powers even for a short time.” He mercifully took the bait.

“How would I receive your powers?” He said it casually, but his look was interested.

“Simple. You need to fetch my stave.”

He paused, then shuffled off and retrieved Porridge from somewhere out of sight. Good.

“Take some blood from me and rub it on your bottom lip.”

“That’s disgustin’.”

“I know, but it’s the only way.”

He opened the door while I sat there, chained and ever so proper. Winking, he rubbed his thumb across my cut lip, the result of Palehook’s attack. I forced myself not to shudder when he lingered. He painted the blood onto his own mouth.

“Now?”

“I confer the power upon you.” I touched my thumb to my blood and traced the image of a five-point star on his forehead. “Let’s see if it worked. Take the stave, place it to the ground, and say its name: Porridge.”



He did, and Porridge glowed blue. I gave as much of a girlish clap as I could, wearing those manacles. I knew that men loved being praised beyond life itself. Indeed, the guard looked as if he’d been appointed prime minister. “That it? I can use your power?”

“Absolutely. There’s one more thing you need to do to have complete control. Hold the end toward yourself—that’s right—and now twist it in your hands two times to the left.” I kept my breathing steady. If he heard the slightest waver, the barest hint of excitement…