A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(5)

“You wounded R’hlem’s pride as well as his army when you killed Korozoth,” Whitechurch said. “He wants to punish you and hurt us.”

“Should I go to him?” All I could picture was that poor servant, dead on the floor. “Perhaps he won’t hurt me. Perhaps we could set up some sort of operation where I spy on him, or he…” My voice trailed away. My breath wasn’t coming right; perhaps my corset was too tightly strung. I pressed my hands to my stomach, and when my hands trembled, I forced them to stop.

“Agrippa told me about this quality of yours,” Whitechurch said. His gravelly voice gentled a bit. “You couldn’t bear to feel useless, he said. I saw his pride even before you…mastered your abilities.”

Whitechurch knew I’d lied to him about my magician birth. When the queen had first commended me, it was no secret that he disliked me. At first, he’d been cold whenever we met or spoke. But it had changed these past few weeks, as I kept pace with my squadron—despite Valens’s best efforts—and patrolled the barrier with the others.

“I don’t want anyone else to suffer on my behalf,” I mumbled. I was not going to cry.

“Which is why you must not think of going to him.” Whitechurch cracked his knuckles. “He believes you are our greatest asset. He probably wants to show the public that we are so weak we could not protect the person we’ve raised up as our salvation.”

That was smart. As far as the people of England knew, the sorcerers had found their prophesied one. When we walked through the rubble-filled streets of the city or in the shantytowns near the barrier, I could see how people’s faces brightened when I passed. Sometimes little girls would run up with a gift of a flower or a bit of ribbon. While it made me happy to see them so happy, that nagging guilt would return at once. I was not their savior, but I pretended to be. And now that I had R’hlem’s attention, I put every person around me in greater danger, danger that I couldn’t bloody protect them from.

I had to shut my eyes tight and will myself back under control.

“What should we do?” Blackwood asked.

“We must keep our chosen one safe,” Whitechurch said. There was no mockery in his voice. “Blackwood, as you are Howel’s guardian, we should discuss.”

I bristled at that. Blackwood was my age, and not that much more skilled at magic than I. But he had to assume “responsibility” for me, since I was an unmarried girl running around wild.

“Heavens, imagine what a lost lamb I would be without a strong young man guiding me,” I muttered.

“I always pictured you as more of a kid goat,” Blackwood said. “Always butting heads.” Despite everything going on, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Enough.” Whitechurch picked up an amber glass of whiskey from beside his bulldog and sipped. “Besides Howel’s security, fortifying our defenses is our first priority now that R’hlem has breached the barrier.”

Defenses again. We’d come out from under a ward after more than a decade of hiding, and now Whitechurch wanted to go right back under it. Meanwhile, the war raged outside London. R’hlem savaged the land, and his army of Familiars grew. I thought of Brimthorn, my old school, lying open to attack. I imagined little bodies in simple gray dress laid out on the grass, unnaturally still while the school behind them burned.

No. I had to shake those images, or I wouldn’t get anything done.

“We shouldn’t talk about defense, sir,” I said. “We can’t afford to wait for R’hlem to make good on his promise to destroy us.”

“What exactly are you proposing, Howel?” Whitechurch asked.

I hadn’t even considered the words until they were flying from my mouth. But as soon as I spoke them, I knew they were right.

“We must destroy R’hlem before he can come after us,” I said.

The room was quiet. I slid into the chair opposite Whitechurch as neatly as I could. His white eyebrows had shot up into his hairline.

“Of course we should destroy R’hlem,” Blackwood said slowly, as if tasting the words. “How else are we to win this war?”

“Forgive me. I meant that I should do it,” I said. This time, both of them gaped as if I’d sprouted a second head. “There might be something, er, outside our sorcerer magic that could help.” I folded my hands in my lap. When in doubt, appear very prim.

“What resources do you have?” Whitechurch asked. His expression went stony. “The magicians.” He did not sound pleased.

“There could be books,” I said, trying to speak lightly. “Books never hurt anyone.”

“You are no longer a magician, Howel.” That calmness was a sure sign danger lurked ahead. “You swore to it at Her Majesty’s commendation.”

I had to be careful now. “Her Majesty told me that I could use what I needed from my past in order to help.” I watched how each word landed. Whitechurch didn’t hurl me across the room, which I took as a good sign. “Magicians have a strange ability, don’t they? Perhaps there is something in their teachings?” I kept saying they and their. Hopefully, distancing myself would keep Whitechurch on my side.

“We don’t know much about R’hlem,” Blackwood admitted, coming to stand behind my chair.

“You agree with Howel?” Whitechurch’s disapproving gaze made me feel like we were children being scolded.