A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(102)

“You’ll be killed!”

At last, the merry facade fell. He looked bone-weary; there was no life in his gray eyes any longer. “I don’t pretend to be necessary. You’re the burning rose, Maria the chosen one, Blackwood the Imperator, but I?” He shook his head, his auburn hair catching the sun. “A soldier, nothing more. One dispensable brass cog in the great war machine.” His voice faltered. “The only person who needed me died while I stood there and watched.” He fastened a strap on his horse’s saddle, then closed his eyes tight. “It was cowardly of me to blame you for Rook.”

“No, you were right.” My voice shook. Make him stay. His was a presence I’d taken as a given, and it was only now, when he was riding into oblivion, that I realized how badly he was needed. He was a spot of light in an ever-darkening world. Such a person shouldn’t—couldn’t—throw himself away. “Magnus, we need you.” I paused. “I need you.”

“No. You need Blackwood.” He sounded resigned. “There’s no reason for me to stay when you have him.”

That was all he said, but his eyes and voice expressed more. You forbade me to speak of my feelings ever again, he’d said, and I agreed.

My face went hot. “Eliza needs you, for God’s sake.”

“If I die, she’ll be in mourning for a year. I’ve saved her from Foxglove. At least I could be useful once.” He took out his stave and presented it to me with a low bow—a sorcerer’s bow. “There’s nothing left for me in this world, Howel. Let me find some meaning in the next, at least.” Sheathing his stave, he mounted his horse and took the reins. “Goodbye.”

“I won’t allow you to do this,” I said, positioning myself before the horse. Magnus’s shoulders slumped.

“You have to let me go,” he said.

Before I could reply, Valens whistled, summoning his squadron. Magnus rode to join his fellow soldiers. Together, the ten of them cantered ahead, breaking through the perimeter and heading north. I watched until a cloud of dust and the faint pounding of hooves were all that remained of them.

Magnus had gone.

I accepted the agony in my shoulder as I made my way back. Blackwood was waiting for me at the carriage, holding the door open.

“So they’ve left, then?” He said it with some degree of satisfaction.

“You should have forced them to stay,” I muttered.

“Them?” he asked pointedly. “Or one in particular?”

My silence mollified him. Cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me. “Come inside. The sun is too hot.”

He helped me into the dark of the carriage.





Days blurred into one another while the nightmares tugged at me. Upon waking, I’d often find Blackwood and Maria in the carriage, monitoring me. Apparently, I’d taken to sleepwalking and had nearly got outside the camp one night. It was just how Rook had been in the early days of his illness. My head ached all the time now, even when I slept.

Would I become like Rook? A vessel for Korozoth’s hatred and power? Maria and Blackwood, perhaps, should kill me. But I knew they wouldn’t, and I didn’t have the strength to do it myself.

We had come to Yorkshire; I could tell it without even pulling up the blind. The air tasted different here, like stone and frozen earth. The north was harder, and hardier. Even the light had a slate-gray appearance. Soon we’d wake to frost on the windowpane and snow on the breeze. I’d been happy to leave this place once, when my greatest problems had been Colegrind and a meager breakfast. How could I have been so stupid?

“We should be home soon,” Blackwood said when I awoke on the third day. I sat up, pushing off my blanket and hissing as Maria undid the top of my dress. Blackwood turned away to give us privacy as she exposed my shoulder, peeling off the gauze. I winced, then looked at my marks.

They were black as night, the punctures neat, round, and surprisingly fresh. Maria rubbed in ointment, which stung so badly I cursed and accidentally kicked Blackwood’s shin.

“Will they always be that black?” I asked through my teeth.

“Aye. It would appear so.” And why shouldn’t they? Rook’s scars had always been inflamed. Working my shoulder, I studied Maria as she put her bottles back inside a wooden chest balanced on her knee.

“When do we tell them we’ve found our true chosen one?” I asked. Blackwood and Maria both looked up in surprise.

Blackwood lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s wise?”

That was his way—ask a question, then let the answerer fall into a trap of her own making.

“Isn’t it wise?” I asked.

Maria stopped our arguing. “I don’t want anyone else to know. Not yet.” She pulled up the blind halfway and gazed at the rolling countryside. “I like being invisible to them for now.” She still didn’t trust sorcerers.

“Quite.” Blackwood breathed more easily. “We’ll wait for the best opportunity.”

I kept silent until the carriage stopped for a rest, and Maria climbed out to tend the other patients. “You’re trying to keep your power,” I said to him.

Blackwood rolled his eyes. “She wanted to hold back.”

“Oh, don’t play games. If everyone can at least pretend I’m the best we have, your support is stronger.”