A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(83)

I found myself alone once more. Even the turtledove’s cage was empty. Maria had set the creature free.





Three days later, Eliza and Lady Blackwood were sent north to Sorrow-Fell, along with most of the servants and an escort of five sorcerers. We’d tried to get them access to the Faerie roads, but Mab had been strict about who could use them. Besides, I didn’t like to think of them wandering those paths beneath the earth. Lilly was one of the few who stayed behind with the house. When I tried to get her to go with the others, she simply shook her head.

“If it’s all the same, I feel safer here. And I’ll be waiting to greet you when you come home victorious, miss.” She smiled.

The remaining household all turned out to see the ladies off. Lady Blackwood walked out of the house and climbed into the carriage without so much as a word or a look. She was swathed totally in black, from her lace shawl to her gloves, and a thick, opaque black veil covered her face entirely. Not an inch of her was visible. She passed me as though I did not exist. Eliza came next. I kissed her cheek, and she embraced me. “Why won’t you come with us?”

“It’s my duty,” I said. I spoke the words with all the passion of a novice actress in a theatrical company. These days, my duty did not please me. Inside the depths of the carriage, I heard Lady Blackwood coughing. “I’m sorry for what happened at your ball,” I whispered to Eliza. She waved away my apology.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said softly. Leaning closer, she whispered, “It’s a pretend engagement, you know.” Eliza sniffed. “Magnus was never on my list of prospective suitors. Poor as he was, how could he be? But I confess the idea of it makes me happy, even knowing it’s a lie.” She tried to grin and climbed into the carriage. “I’ll see you at Sorrow-Fell.” She said it hopefully. The footman closed the door, and they departed. A cart filled with the servants bumped behind them down the road, and the sorcerers rode alongside on horseback.

Blackwood had not come out of the doorway. He watched the carriage until it disappeared. When I went to speak with him, he vanished into the house.

—

I KNOCKED AT HIS STUDY THAT evening, receiving no answer. But the lantern light seeping from beneath the door told me he was inside. That night, and the night after, I had my meals alone, walked alone through echoing halls. It was like living in a marvelous tomb. I would sit by the fire in the library and imagine Rook coming in to say good night. Or I would go to the place where Fanny…it became difficult to even think the word. I would sit on the stairs, smooth my skirts, and listen to the utter silence. The memories sat beside me, laid their heads in my lap.

There was nothing else to do but reflect and prepare.

Whitechurch was selective about who would undertake the mission, choosing the fittest and strongest fighters. Valens, Wolff, and Lambe were among the few warriors chosen to remain behind, to keep the barriers secure.

Blackwood, Magnus, Dee, and I worked every day, planning how we would ambush R’hlem. Despite being constantly near one another, we had as little interaction as possible. Magnus actively avoided me. Blackwood would address me always in an impersonal tone. Even Dee was distant.

Every time we practiced the final moment—Magnus and Blackwood at the sides, Dee behind with the flute—I delivered the killing blow, a short upward jab with my dagger, careful to avoid the rib cage. And then a slash across the throat, just in case.

R’hlem, the skinless monstrosity, dying at my feet. But William Howel, the man who’d read my mother poetry as they eloped, bleeding alongside him.

Every night, I lay in bed and asked myself if I could do it. And every night, silence was the only reply.

—

FINALLY, THE DAY ARRIVED. WHITECHURCH SPENT the morning in consultation with his Masters, appraising R’hlem’s movement. They’d got his pattern down and had selected a hilly terrain ideally suited for attack on the high ground. The time had come to march.

I drank tea with a shaking hand while Lilly prepared me. Every button hooked, every pin placed, every lace tied had the weight of goodbye. If this failed, we would never have this routine again.

“You look very nice,” Lilly said when she’d finished. I wasn’t sure who moved first, but we embraced quickly. She was so short that my chin nestled in her hair. The bells began tolling outside, calling the squadrons into position. Today, it seemed that all of London held its breath. The street corners were silent, the windows of every tavern and shop shuttered.

We assembled by the river, standing side by side in the early morning as our robes moved in a breeze off the water. I’d the bone whistle around my neck, Porridge on one hip, a dagger on the other. The little dagger rested in its sheath up my left sleeve.

Thorn knights with oaken armor walked through our ranks, inspecting us. The faerie creatures congregated at the head of the line, raising twisted-looking horns to their lips to sound the signal to advance.

As one, we marched forward, following the Fae.

The transition from our world to Faerie was immediate: the air chilled on my skin, the wind died in my hair. We followed a road lined on either side by tall, bony-looking trees that pointed upward like accusing fingers. The sky—for there was a sky—was speckled with constellations I didn’t recognize. There was no Ursa Major, no Orion’s Belt.

I was in the front squadron with Whitechurch, Blackwood, and Magnus. The Goodfellow we’d seen before in Cornwall stopped us in our path.