A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(45)

For a moment, the only sounds were the ticking of a clock and the china tiger’s mewls. Dee and Magnus were each frozen in a different expression: Dee horrified, Magnus elated. Blackwood finally broke the silence. “You brought him into my house?”

I hadn’t anticipated his outrage. Evidently, that had been stupid.

“I’ll try not to be insulted, Your Lordship.” Mickelmas patted Dee’s arm, and the boy jumped. “Glad to see you fellows still in one piece.”

“Oh. Thank you very much,” Dee said, brightening.

“Howel, you madman.” From Magnus, that sounded like the finest compliment in the world. He went up to the magician. “Good to see you again, sir! I was afraid you were done for.” They shook hands.

“I remember you. The bold, stupid one,” Mickelmas said.

“Bold and stupid is the Magnus family motto.” Magnus pondered a moment. “What’s the Latin? Ferox et stultus?”

“You did remember your lessons! Master Agrippa would be pleased,” Dee said.

“May I see you alone?” Blackwood thundered at me.

He ushered me to the next room, the “armory” that contained the crests of every Earl of Sorrow-Fell there had ever been. His own hung above the doorway: two hands twined in ivy—the standard Blackwood crest—with his own personal insignia, a star to symbolize his status as the family’s guiding light.

Right now, an erupting volcano would have been a better image. Blackwood stormed away from me, his fists clenched by his sides.

“We needed help,” I said.

“How? Where? Why?” A vein flickered in his neck with each word. He made toward an antique clock as if about to punch it.

“He knows Strangewayes’s weapons.”

“The weapons?” The incredulity on his face gave way to cold fury. “You’re lying to the Imperator again. Only this time, you had the audacity to bring the three of us into it!”

My face warmed at the truth. I hadn’t wanted to say this, but there was no other choice.

“And your father had the audacity to sacrifice magicians and witches to hide his own sins, didn’t he?” Charles Blackwood had been every bit as guilty as Mary Willoughby or Mickelmas when he’d allowed the Ancients into our world, but he had managed to hide his involvement and avoid punishment. For over a decade, witches had been executed and magicians oppressed, but sorcerers and the Blackwood family in particular had thrived.

The temperature in the room cooled, and I shivered as Blackwood drew closer. I was tall, but he was taller. Still, I would not be intimidated.

“You think that’s fair?” he hissed, bringing his face close. My pulse quickened, but I stared him down.

“Should everyone be punished for what your father did?”

He struggled for a minute. “No.”

“If we defeat R’hlem with magician weapons and training, we can prove to the Order how wrong they’ve been. You said you wanted to make it right.”

Blackwood stepped closer, and I instinctively moved back. He shepherded me against the wall, locking me in a corner of the room. His gaze captured mine.

“Are you sure this isn’t about you?” he murmured.

“What makes you think that?” I asked, uneasy.

Maybe it was the dim light, but I could swear pity momentarily softened his features. “Since R’hlem sent that message, you’ve grown reckless. Insisting we go to Cornwall, insisting on these weapons, seeking out the very magician you were supposed to stay away from!” His anger resurfaced. “You feel responsible, and that makes you take action. Careless action. God forbid you wait on anyone else’s instruction, oh no. It’s entirely your fault; therefore, it’s entirely your problem to fix.” It was as if he’d seen me naked, my whole mind and soul exposed to him. “But you aren’t alone in this, Howel, and now you’ve made us all guilty by association!”

With nowhere else to go, I turned my head and studied the very interesting wall.

“Don’t be a coward.” His voice softened. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Reluctantly, I turned back to him. Blackwood stepped away. There. I could breathe more freely. “Don’t you feel guilty for what your father did? You know we have to do this.”

With a groan, Blackwood walked toward the door.

“We will.” He stopped to look at me, his expression grim. “I thought we had no secrets from each other, Howel.” And there it was, the great reason for his anger. For years, he’d carried his father’s sin. No one, not even his mother or Eliza, had known their family’s darkest secret. When we’d finally trusted each other with the truth—I was a magician, he a traitor’s son—I’d become his first real friend.

I’d wounded him without thinking.

My face burned, but he left before I could reply. I trailed after him, back into the parlor.

Blackwood settled into a corner of the room, retreating entirely into himself. Magnus, at least, was enjoying this. He’d picked a vase—Ming dynasty, from the look of it—and was badgering Mickelmas to hide inside it.

“Two pounds says he can,” Magnus said to Dee.

“I am not a trained bear, you rascals.” Mickelmas laughed. He’d helped himself to the decanter of brandy by the window and was sipping a glass.