A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(74)

Why did he look at me as though waiting for something? For the moment, I laid my confession aside.

“What are you saying?”

“I went to Whitechurch this afternoon with a proposition. I need his permission, you understand, because…” He stopped.

A faint buzzing started in my ears. “What did you ask him?”

“I asked for permission to marry.” He looked straight into my eyes. “To marry you.”





It became surprisingly quiet inside my head. Blackwood continued speaking, but I didn’t hear much of it. Marry him. Impossible. I was going to marry Rook. At least, I wanted to marry Rook. We had only so much time left, and I couldn’t…

I was not going to marry Blackwood.

“I can’t,” I said, backing away. He didn’t react. “I don’t mean that I don’t—I can’t—surely you understand….” Words did not come properly.

“This is all very sudden,” he said. “I’ve never shown you any attention, er, in that way.” He finally sat down in a chair, then motioned for me to do the same. “You must admit, it is an excellent plan,” he said as I sank onto a sofa. “By allying with my house, no one could touch you.”

“Of course.” I sighed, understanding at last. “You only offer to save me from my enemies. It proves what a good friend you are.”

“A good friend,” he echoed. His finger began to tap out a rhythm on the arm of his chair.

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Sacrifice.” He kept parroting things. Standing, he moved over to the fireplace. “Why do you think I asked for your hand?”

“To be a good friend,” I repeated slowly.

“Then you don’t understand.” Something stirred in me, a response to the heat I saw in his eyes. No. This shouldn’t be. He was my friend, one of the few friends I could rely on.

“I understand,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. When I stood, Blackwood put a hand, gently, to my wrist. I was wearing gloves, but even though his skin didn’t touch mine, it still sent a pulsing warmth through my body.

“Can you believe how I treated you when we first met?” His thumb brushed the back of my hand. His voice was deep and rugged. “I thought you an opportunist and a liar.”

“That was all true.” I laughed weakly. He did not.

“Do you not understand how I feel?” He said it almost to himself. “You’re my dearest friend.” He studied me, as if looking for an opening to strike, only there was no threat of violence from him. Quite the opposite. “When I had your friendship, I thought I could never want for anything more. But over time, I have come to feel for you beyond anything I thought I could.”

The passion in his words began to terrify me.

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret.” I turned away and felt him come up behind me.

“I will never regret it,” he murmured. “I’ve fought this feeling. To burn for someone in such a way is weak, and I swore to myself I would never know weakness like my father did.” He spit the word father like a curse. “I’ve tried to take myself back to our first days out of Agrippa’s house. But that is impossible.” I felt him gently touch the golden arrow in my hair. “That’s why I had this made. You’ve brought me down.” He took my hand, running his thumb in circles over my palm. Frozen, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t turn around. He drew closer and whispered in my ear. “I had a dream a few nights ago that you and I were in Sorrow-Fell. No other living soul disturbed us. When I woke, I thought: why shouldn’t we be everything to each other?”

I had things to say, reasonable things. But he placed a hand upon my bare shoulder. At the touch of his skin, heat unfurled inside me. He wrapped an arm around me from behind, holding me against the hard line of his body. I closed my eyes as every sensible thought scattered. There was only the beat of his heart and the sensation of his hand.

It was like being fluent in a language I had never studied. Something dark and rooted in me, some essential part of my soul, began to stir. I thought of the identical strands of ivy twining down our staves.

There were no coincidences in this world.

His hand traced my bare shoulder, my back. His touch left a trail of heat. Move. I had to move away, but it was as if I’d been enchanted. The way I responded, the way my heart pounded…I wanted this. His hands, his body trembled. I didn’t think he’d ever touched a woman like this before.

Blackwood whispered in my ear, “After the victory against Callax, I felt an intoxicating freedom, all because of you.” My traitorous body flushed as he pressed his lips to my bare shoulder. I groaned softly as he kissed my temple. “That is why I beg you to become my wife,” he breathed.

Wake up, wake up. In a flash, I imagined turning and finding Charles Blackwood with his arms about me.

Oh, that did the trick. My body finally listened to my brain, and I wrenched away. Blackwood looked dazed.

“No,” I gasped, “I’m engaged to Rook.”

“Rook?” Blackwood said it as though he’d never heard that name before. Then understanding dawned. “Rook,” he repeated, incredulous.

“I love him. I’ve loved him since we were children.” How could I explain the hours we’d spent to Blackwood? The games on the moor, hiding from Colegrind, sharing what food we’d been able to sneak from the pantry. When Colegrind would beat Rook, I’d be there to soothe his wounds. When the headmaster began to show interest in me, to linger with his hand on me for too long, I had to keep Rook from murdering the man. Our memories, our lives, were linked.