A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)
Jessica Cluess
A girl-child of sorcerer stock rises from the ashes of a life.
You shall glimpse her when Shadow burns in the Fog above a bright city.
You shall know her when Poison drowns beneath the dark Waters of the cliffs.
You shall obey her when Sorrow falls unto the fierce army of the Blooded Man.
She will burn in the heart of a black forest; her fire will light the path.
She is two, the girl and the woman, and one must destroy the other.
For only then may three become one, and triumph reign in England.
—Taken from the Speakers’ Prophecy
London was waiting, and so was I.
Tonight was an official gathering of Her Majesty’s sorcerers—my first since being commended to the royal Order—and as the city’s church bells tolled seven o’clock, my stomach fluttered with nerves. We were a country still at war with monsters, but at that moment attacking hellbeasts were the furthest thing from my mind. The thought of going inside the palace made me wildly uneasy.
From out Blackwood’s carriage window, I watched the sorcerers as they rode up to Buckingham Palace on horseback or floated out of the evening sky to alight upon the ground with ease. They adjusted robes and ran hands through their hair as they hurried inside, trying to look presentable. I stayed hidden inside the carriage, my gloved hands folded tightly in my lap.
Two months before, when I’d arrived at the palace, it had been blazing with lights, ready for a grand ball. Now it was darker, more somber. It was a place of business. My business now.
“Your first Order meeting,” Blackwood said, sitting opposite me. “You must be excited, Howel.”
“Excited or numb with terror?” That was a joke. Mostly. “What should I expect?” I still felt awkward in my black silk sorcerer’s robe. It wasn’t designed for a woman. I was the first female to be inducted into the royal Order by a monarch, at least in recent memory. And so I fidgeted, pulling at the collar.
“I’ve never been inside.” He patted the handle of his stave. “Only commended sorcerers may enter. But I have heard,” he said, attempting to sound all business and knowledge, “that it’s quite impressive.”
“Something that might impress the great Earl of Sorrow-Fell?” I said. Flicking my gloved fingers, I shot a few embers at him. The cool night air quickly swallowed my fire. Blackwood laughed, bolstering my courage. He wasn’t much in the practice of laughter, though I liked to think he’d got more used to it after months of living with me.
“Do I have to worry about you bursting into flames every time you mock me?” he asked, wiping at his sleeve as the footman opened our carriage door. Blackwood stepped out and handed me down. I shivered. The evening was cool, a reminder that summer was nearly done.
“Don’t be absurd. I mock you far too often to set fire to myself every single time.” I took his arm, and we made our way to the palace’s entrance. Around us, sorcerers were greeting each other. I searched for my friends, Dee or Wolff or Lambe, but saw none of them.
Blackwood cut through the crowd gracefully, men twice his age stepping aside for him and nodding. I’d never have imagined this was his first Order meeting. He moved about in his robe with ease, as if he’d been wearing it all his life. Perhaps he’d practiced? Or it could be that he was simply good at everything to do with being a sorcerer.
I was surprised how many of the sorcerers were young, my age or only a few years older. I knew I should have expected it—a group of tottering old men couldn’t be expected to win a war—but seeing others plucking awkwardly at their robes, laughing too loudly and then ducking their heads in embarrassment, made me feel less alone. We entered the palace through a large, arched doorway and turned down a carpeted hall before making our way outside again, into the grand courtyard. In the center of the yard, a great black dome awaited us. We filed through the door, and I gasped as we entered a room of pure night.
I’d been inside obsidian rooms before, but this was an obsidian cathedral. The ceiling soared above us, fifty feet at least. No windows interrupted the smooth, dark expanse of stone on either side. The only source of natural light came from the large, round glass ceiling. It allowed the moon to cast a baleful eye upon the proceedings. Sconces lined the walls, the flickering fire lighting the way to our seats.
Whoever had designed this room had taken inspiration from the Senate of ancient Rome: tiered seating, much like an amphitheater, went up several floors in a semicircle. Most of the younger sorcerers clumped together in the back rows.
It felt rather like the day I’d first come to Master Agrippa’s, only so much worse. At least when I’d first arrived in London, everyone had thought I was their great prophesied girl destined to bring about the end of the Ancients. Now as they turned to stare, we all knew that was not true. I had played a key part in destroying one of the seven monsters—Korozoth, the Shadow and Fog—but at the cost of shattering the protective ward around the city, leaving us all vulnerable to attack.
Yes. Feeling all the sorcerers’ eyes upon me, it was definitely worse.
“Howel, ease up. I prefer to keep my arm.” Blackwood’s voice was tight with pain.
“Sorry.” I relaxed my grip and began the calming exercises Agrippa had taught me months before. Imagine a stream of cool water running down your hands. The exercises kept me from going up in flames at bad moments.