A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(103)
“No, I’m doing this to protect the woman I love.” He squared his jaw; apparently my accusation had stung. “We need to keep your position secure. You’re Unclean, and if the truth about R’hlem ever gets out, even I may not be able to shield you.” The light from the window threw half his face into deep shadow. He climbed out the carriage without another word.
Uneasy, I settled back and sank into sleep.
The black of my dreams faded to gray. Around me was a world of nothingness. Hell and damn, I was on the astral plane once more. That could only mean…
R’hlem appeared, one hand over his chest. He was barely standing. The left side of his body was bandaged, blood seeping through the gauze. Well. At least we were both hurting.
“You’ve broken my heart,” he said.
He was alive. Despite the terror of knowing that, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat relieved.
“You left me no choice,” I croaked.
“You had a choice. You chose your sorcerers.” He grunted in pain; the astral plane around us flickered. This had to be taking much of his energy. “You joined the men who condemned your own mother.” What the devil did my mother have to do with this? “You preferred murderers to me.”
“You are also a murderer,” I said, my tone icy.
“You chose the men who turned me into this,” he snarled, gesturing to his own skinned face.
“I chose England over you, and I’d do it again.”
“Is that so?” He sneered at my words. Once again our surroundings warped slightly. “Then the sorcerers are no longer enough for me. England will pay the price.” His expression filled with pure hatred. “The Kindly Emperor comes. You will all bear witness to his smile.”
I snapped back to consciousness with a cry, my shoulder burning. Blackwood had returned to the carriage and laid me against him while I slept. Instantly, he brought a flask of water to my lips.
“Are you all right?” he asked. I finished drinking and wiped my mouth with the back of my glove. Most ladylike.
“R’hlem,” I whispered. “Still alive.”
Blackwood took a shuddering breath. “At least now we know.” For a while we sat in silence. I buried myself against him, lost in the pine and snow scent of him. He had been out of doors, in the fresh air. I envied him for it.
Then, as if making a decision, he whispered, “Here.” Taking my left hand, he gently unbuttoned my glove at the wrist and slipped it off, a daring move. “I risked a trip back to the house for this. It’s tradition for the future Countess of Sorrow-Fell to wear it.”
He produced a ring from his pocket and slid it onto my finger. It was big for me, but hopefully I would come to fit it. A plain silver band, it housed a tiny pearl. I marveled at its small, perfect beauty.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He kissed my bare wrist, my pulse elevating at the touch of his lips. Alone in the carriage, his strict Imperator facade melted somewhat.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered. Damn. He could feel me shivering beneath his touch, but I couldn’t help it. The light sculpted his face in just the right way to make him look exactly like his father.
“I’m not afraid.” I meant it. Mostly.
The carriage came to such a lurching halt I nearly fell into Blackwood’s lap. He knocked on the roof.
“What’s going on?” But then he closed his eyes in relief, as though he could sense the answer. “We passed the barrier.”
I could feel it as well, a light tingling on my skin. Not the same pressure in my head that the ward had provided, but something more soothing and natural.
“Come,” he said, climbing out of the carriage. “I want to show you.” He helped me down and walked with my arm through his.
The mist was heavy all about us but dissipated as we came to the hilltop. Ahead of us, the most spectacular mansion glowed in the early-morning sunlight.
It was like something carved out of time. A marble colonnade decorated the front of the multistoried house, calling to mind temples of ancient Greece. Hundreds of windows sparkled, jewel-like, as the sun struck them. As the length of the house continued, it morphed from classical to the medieval. It bore the rough outline of a castle, but the turrets were corkscrew, the windows positioned at chaotic angles. It gave the impression that gravity did not apply, as though one might run down a staircase and somehow end up dancing upon the ceiling. In truth, it was a perfect estate from Faerie.
Nearby, a pond glittered, and an emerald lawn reached all the way into a dark fringe of trees. Black forest waited on every side of the estate, ancient beyond anything. Magic perfumed the air.
I thought again of the prophecy tapestry, how the girl’s white hand stretched out of a gnarled, dark wood.
It was all coming to pass, wasn’t it?
Blackwood whispered in my ear, “I’d hoped to bring you here alone, after we were married.” His lips grazed my temple. “But that can wait.”
Maria trotted up to us, her peacock cloak fastened about her shoulders. It was resplendent against her hair. “Good to be home?” she asked Blackwood. Her face had better color than I’d ever seen. Something about nature, and the north, appeared to agree with her.
“Very good,” he replied.
Maria grabbed my hand. “Come along. You must keep up your exercise.” She led me away as the other carriages and wagons pulled up the hill, and Blackwood turned away to deal with them.