A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(69)

I put a hand to my mouth to keep from laughing.

“Helen had no time for grand gestures—she couldn’t carry her bags very far, and her hair was damp with the night mist. She caught cold two days later and wouldn’t let me hear the end of it during the coach ride down to Devon. Naturally, I had to read aloud ‘Love’s Philosophy’ over and over again just to vex her.” He laughed heartily.

My parents had eloped? Aunt Agnes had said Mother’s merchant family didn’t approve of her marrying a poor solicitor, but she hadn’t told me this. And I loved that my mother had been more concerned with dry hair than poetry by moonlight. For the first time in my life, I felt that she was a part of me, that she would have understood me. And for the first time, I knew what it felt like to miss her, not just long for her.

“I didn’t want you to cry,” R’hlem said, his voice gentle.

Yes, I could feel the tears on my cheeks. I shouldn’t have brought up my mother; now I was too emotional to continue. Too easy to trip up and make a mistake.

“I have to go. I—I need to rest,” I stammered.

“You’ve been patrolling for the sorcerers.” He said it with bitterness. Don’t respond. “That’s bound to tire you out. But I will see you again.”

His certainty chilled me.

The sound of bells began through the mist. Dong. Dong. Ding ding. Dong. Ding ding ding. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Just as I’d heard them last night.

“Yes. You will.” Then, without promising more, I left.

—

THE WORLD OUTSIDE MY WINDOW WAS pitch black. A bit groggy, I went to my vanity to take the sachet. Might as well try for a few hours’ sleep if I could. As I tumbled back into bed, the herbs in hand, something bothered me. I couldn’t place it as I lay down…until I listened.

There was only silence outside. No church bells ringing whatsoever. But they’d been tolling when I’d woken….

I sat upright in bed, considering. The bells I’d heard hadn’t been ringing in London, but rather wherever R’hlem was. It shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, we could touch each other on the astral plane. Why couldn’t sound carry as well?

Quickly, I ran to my desk and wrote down what I could recall of the bells’ pattern. Attack. South. Ancient. Molochoron.

Forget knowing his mind; R’hlem had potentially given me something much more vital than that, and he didn’t even know it.

Unlike the lesser Ancients, R’hlem did not choose to display himself much on the battlefield. If he emerged, it was after the fighting was done so that he could creatively flay and dismember the unfortunate survivors. Pinpointing his exact location had been slippery, to say the least.

Knowing where Molochoron was, perhaps we could uncover R’hlem’s location as well. Then, if we moved fast, perhaps we could attack with the weapons and—

Are you truly prepared to kill your own father?

There was no good answer for that thought, save for the knot in my stomach.

—

WHEN THE MORNING CAME, I’D BEEN awake for hours. I needed to speak with Blackwood at once to discuss the bell patterns, though I’d have to be smart in how I went about it. I didn’t want him to know everything that had happened—not just yet.

He wasn’t at breakfast, which was odd. Eliza drank a hasty cup of tea, toying with the half-eaten toast on her plate. Tonight was her debut; she should have been excited. The past few days, there’d barely been a moment’s rest in the house. Bushels of roses and flares of orchids were artfully arranged throughout the halls. Rugs had been taken up, furniture had been moved, floors had been waxed and scrubbed, and through it all Eliza had sat as quiet as the eye of the storm.

Since the shouting match with Blackwood, we hadn’t heard a word about Aubrey Foxglove.

“Are you ready for tonight?” I asked, taking some eggs and keeping an eye on the door for Blackwood.

“I’m nervous,” she said. But she looked rather resigned. I should have done more to argue in her corner against the engagement. Perhaps Blackwood could still be reasoned with.

“I’ll speak to your brother about Foxglove,” I said. Eliza looked up, as if properly noticing me for the first time that day.

“You’re sweet.” She chewed on her bottom lip, the first hint of nerves. “I’ll have something to tell you later.”

Mysterious. “Why not now?”

The clock struck eight, and Eliza pushed her chair back.

“The timing’s not right. Later, I promise.” She left the room. Odd. I would never understand the Blackwood family.

He never came to breakfast, and I skirted around the servants as they continued their whirl of preparation for the ball. Great rows of beeswax candles were being lit in the chandeliers and planted all along the walls and tables. Ivy symbolizing Sorrow-Fell decorated the staircase banisters, and faerie lights softly glowed among the tendrils. The Blackwood mansion would be the best-lit building in the city.

Blackwood wasn’t in his study or the parlor. The thought occurred that he’d be at practice, but it wasn’t like him to miss a meal for it. As I walked toward the obsidian room, I noticed that the air felt…off. Thick, somehow. Strange noises emanated from behind the obsidian room’s door: high, keening whining like a dog’s, followed by a grunting, grinding echo.