A Lily Among Thorns(54)

Solomon had been surprised to find that life went on without Elijah. Now he was surprised to find out that it went on with him. He wanted time to stop and let him figure out how he felt, accustom himself to this new world. But of course it didn’t. He must carry on as if the dominant emotion of the past year and a half of his life hadn’t been—unnecessary. Irrelevant. He sighed. “What really happened?”

Elijah looked down. “I explained that.”

Solomon crossed his arms. “I know you’ve been gone a long time, Li, but I can still tell when you’re lying.”

Elijah nodded resignedly. “But it sounded plausible?”

Solomon frowned. “Yes, except for the part about your trying to write to us. That was an obvious fabrication.”

“Good. Now loan me a pen and paper. I can’t risk anyone overhearing what I’m about to tell you.” In spite of his shock and anger, Solomon felt a deep thrill of anticipation. Elijah always made things exciting.

Elijah, gesturing to Solomon to stand by him, wrote, I had to pretend to be dead because I’m a spy.

“You, too!” Solomon exclaimed. Elijah glared at him and offered him the pen.

The marquis is a spy, too, Solomon wrote. For the French. I assume you’re a spy for the English?

Elijah rolled his eyes. Naturally. And I already know René is a spy, because. Elijah stopped. He ran his fingers through his hair. Then he wrote, very firmly, I’m in London to bring him and his informants to justice as soon as I can find concrete evidence.

Solomon did not know quite what to write. Elijah looked so grim. He wrote But and paused. Then he continued, you and Sacreval are friends. Aren’t you? Of course, Sacreval and Serena were friends, too.

Elijah glanced at Solomon. We were. But he’s a French spy. The best. He’s passed lakes of information. We can’t afford to have anything leak right now, or it’ll be him hanging me.

You didn’t know it was him when you took the assignment, did you?

Elijah’s shoulders sagged. He shook his head.

You can’t though, yet. The marquis—

Elijah ripped the pen out of Solomon’s hand and started writing very quickly. He’s no more a marquis than I am, damn it. He’s got two little brothers and a sister and a mother, and they all live in a cramped apartment in the quartier Saint-Germain and keep a very small bakery that belonged to his father. He stopped writing.

Solomon took the pen from his brother’s unresisting hand. I’m sorry, but you can’t hang him just at the moment. He forged marriage lines to get the Arms from Serena, and if he’s hanged, the inn will be forfeit to the Crown.

And what am I going to tell the Foreign Office then? ‘I’m sorry, but my brother says we can’t hang an enemy—the nib caught and ink spattered across the paper. Solomon took the pen again.

Can you tell the others you’re back?

Elijah nodded. I have to. I’m supposed to stay here quite openly. That’s why they were willing to sacrifice my connections in Paris, because they knew you were staying here and if I came suddenly back from the dead, I’d end up here too.

If his connection to Serena hadn’t suddenly proved useful to the Foreign Office, how long would he have had to wait to get his brother back? But there was no point asking that. They’ll pay your shot, won’t they?

Elijah laughed. “So, you and Lady Serena—”

“What about us?” Solomon asked.

“Sol.”

“We’re friends.”

“You might as well tell me, because if you don’t, I’ll find out anyway.”

“I forgot what a bully you are.”

The two brothers looked at each other. Suddenly Solomon was smiling tremulously and Elijah’s lashes were wet. They each looked firmly back at the paper, embarrassed. Then Elijah took the pen and wrote, What the devil does he want with the inn anyway?

I don’t know, Solomon admitted, but I’d swear he set a fire in my room two nights ago while we were out. Someone did, anyway. Tried to make it look like I left a candle burning on the mantel and it fell off. He pointed at the damaged mantelpiece.

Elijah’s eyes narrowed. Destroy this paper, he wrote. As Solomon reached for his tinderbox, Elijah went to the hearth. Getting on his knees, he examined the charred bottom of the carving. Solomon burned the paper in the bottom of a glass bowl and looked at his brother, who was really back.

“What’s on the other side of the wall?” Elijah asked.