A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(50)

“Is it painful?”

“The opposite,” he growled. Rook’s whole body shuddered. He grabbed my wrists and gazed down at me. “We can’t do this,” he murmured.

If we kept going, where might it lead? “I know,” I said.

And then every hair on my head stood on end; I heard someone else breathing. We weren’t alone here. Something crawled on its belly out of the shadows, hissing as it inched across the grass.

The creature had no stag, no terrifying friends. In fact, it was the most pathetic thing I had ever seen. In the moonlight, its tattered black robes scraped over the ground. Smoke curled in feeble whispers over its body, and a black hood cloaked its face from view.

I hadn’t seen a shadow Familiar since Korozoth had fallen. The Familiar looked up at Rook and hissed one word: “Master.”

The thing bent its head and began to lick the ground. God, it was tasting Rook’s footprints in the dirt, lapping them up in adoration. He kicked at the thing, sending it crawling off with a whimper.

“Get away from me, you demon,” Rook spit.

Despite the horror in front of us, his violence startled me. The creature only gurgled as it reached for him again. The thing’s nails were shredded and filled with grit. This was the most miserable monster I had ever seen.

“Don’t fight it,” I said, but Rook didn’t listen. With a quick sweep of his arm, even more shadows rushed in from every corner and crevice of the garden, covering the Familiar. I listened for the monster’s horrified screams.

Instead, a crowing emerged, repulsive in its delight. When Rook uncovered the Familiar, we found it rolling about on its back, ecstatic as a cat in a beam of sunlight. It crawled on its belly to Rook, grasping at his ankles and licking at his feet.

“Leave me alone!” he bellowed. His face was crimson. God, someone would hear us.

The Familiar got to its knees, and its smoke hood rolled away, revealing a face I instantly recognized. Pale, stringy hair, eyes cruelly sewn shut with a black thread—it was Gwendolyn, Master Agrippa’s daughter. She’d fallen to R’hlem’s influence long ago. Her teeth chattered as she stared mournfully at Rook. Blood tracked down her cheeks like an obscene parody of tears.

“Master,” she whimpered. She leaned forward, putting herself nose to nose with Rook as he crouched down. The fury and hatred fled his face. Gwendolyn held up her hands in a pleading gesture. “The bloody king wants her. Come. Come with me, master. Come.” She tugged at his sleeve the way a child might beg a parent for a sweet. Rook’s disgust dissolved into…tenderness. It was as if some energy existed between the two of them. Shadows bristled and slithered toward the pair.

With a cry, I flung a stream of fire at Gwendolyn. Spitting, she launched herself backward, snatching up her dagger. I grabbed Rook’s arm when he started to pursue her.

“Don’t! It’s a trap,” I said, meeting Gwendolyn’s oncoming attack with another burst of fire.

Flinging a hand over her eyes to shield herself, Gwendolyn fled into the darkness. With another burst of fire, I looked about the garden for her, but she was gone. Swallowed up by the night.

Rook shifted, unsteady on his feet. Growling, he turned and slammed his fist against the garden wall.

“I didn’t want you to see me weaken,” he said. “I never want that.”

Right then I was on the verge of telling him what he was becoming. Only Fenswick’s warning kept me silent.

“I want you to see how I’m mastering these powers.” Rook looked into my eyes. “How I’m strong enough to care for both of us.” He pulled me closer. “Because I want to marry you, Henrietta.” He kissed me again, cupping my cheek in his hand.

“I love you,” he whispered when we pulled apart. I closed my eyes, misery welling up inside me.

“I love you, too,” I said.

I did love him. And I did fear for him. Very much.





The next morning, Rook and I sat on a bench in Fenswick’s apothecary. Maria, her sleeves rolled and wisps of hair sticking to her face, poured some boiling liquid into a wooden cup. Steam rose up in a hissing cloud, smelling of lemons. Maria laid a sprig of something green in the cup, then pushed it over to Rook.

“Drink,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked, poking at the leaf with an uneasy expression.

“Mint. Sweetens the taste.” She chewed a sprig and caught my eye. After I’d told her what had happened the night before, she’d agreed we needed to try something new. Quickly.

Rook gulped the concoction in one go, then slammed the cup on the table. “What’s in it?” He coughed, shoving the cup away as though it had hurt him.

“Dandelion root, honeyed belladonna, certain types of mushroom.” Maria deliberately left out the spider eggs she’d mentioned to me, which I thought was wise. The belladonna also worried me. It was poison—treated so that it wouldn’t kill him, of course, but poison nonetheless. It was supposed to attack the shadowy parasite that was growing inside Rook. If this worked, we’d kill the thing. No, no ifs—it would work.

It had to.

Rook put a hand on his stomach and groaned, climbing to his feet and nearly collapsing.

I rose as he took a knee and pressed his head against the table, digging his fingernails into the wood. The room darkened. In an instant, I had my fire in my hand. The darkness warped while Maria took up her ax. Please, God. Not like this, not now.