A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(9)

“How was your day?” I asked, feeling stiff and awkward. “Were the horses happy to see you?” Lord, what kinds of stables were open this late at night?

“Very happy.” He laughed, passing a hand through his golden hair. “They all insisted on an extra handful of oats.”

“You spoil them.” I drew a little closer, and he let me. Yes, that was much better.

“I’m happy to have the work.” His mouth tightened. He hated living off Blackwood’s charity. In the first days after he’d nearly died, he’d kept trying to get out of bed so he could march outside and begin looking for a job. “And you?” he asked, his expression softening.

“It’s been the most beastly day,” I murmured.

“Still reading, then.” He took the book from me and flipped through the pages. “You think there’s a way to stop the Skinless Man in here? Truly?”

“Do stay quiet about it,” I said, blushing. “I don’t want word spreading.”

“No one will know.” He caught my hand. There was a hard light in his eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday. “I still don’t understand why R’hlem wants you.”

Gently, I released myself and sat on the sofa. “It’s a way to show the people the sorcerers can’t even protect their great ‘chosen one.’?” My eyes rolled inadvertently whenever I said those stupid words. “Who knows? Perhaps he thinks I can do something for him.”

“He’ll never have you.” Rook sat beside me, his cap bunched in his hands.

“Of course he won’t. I’m notoriously difficult to catch,” I said lightly. That made him smile.

“You recall when we were thirteen, and your powers had just shown themselves? The things we had to do to hide them from Colegrind?”

God, the days when I’d set fire to just about anything. “When I scorched his parlor drapes?”

Rook smiled. “When you set fire to the rhododendron in the garden.” He looked rather proud. “I convinced Colegrind it was an exploding bird. ‘An act of God,’ he said.”

I pictured the pompous expression on our old headmaster’s face and burst into a giggling fit. Rook and I drew nearer. If I reached out my hand, I could touch him. Turning my head, I looked up into Rook’s eyes.

His black eyes. The sight of them made me shudder. They had once been a pale blue, but the color had shifted. Part of his gift from Korozoth. Part of his transformation. Fenswick and I had slowed it with our studies and potions, but we could contain it only so long.

Rook said, “I helped you then, and I can help you now. I could use my powers to protect you.” His hand covered my own. My heart leaped as I watched the fire’s glow play over his face, the strong line of his jaw.

I wanted to make some teasing comment, but the firelight began to die. Shadows slunk from the corner to play about our feet. Instantly, I pulled away from Rook, and the darkness vanished. He stood, cursing softly.

“We can’t play with your powers until we know how they’ll be received,” I said. Though I knew how the sorcerers would receive them; we both did.

“Of course,” he said, his tone distant.

“One day the war will be over. We’ll be free.” I got up and went beside him.

“One day,” he echoed. He touched me, only a hand on my waist. “Henrietta,” he whispered, sending a thrill down my back. And then, his black eyes searching mine, he leaned closer. Closer still.

He wasn’t going to stop.

Trying not to tremble, I slid my hand up his shoulder, tilted my head back…until he twisted away with a thick and bloody cough. Heart sinking, I watched as the shadows slithered toward Rook’s feet.

“Help,” he whispered, turning back to me. His eyes had gone full black, shining and depthless.





“Drink this down,” Fenswick said, handing Rook a wooden cup filled with a steaming liquid. The hobgoblin doctor took up Rook’s wrist and felt it, tapping his clawed finger to mark the pulse.

I’d brought Rook to the hobgoblin’s apothecary, at the very top of the house. The room was under a sloped wooden eave, loops of garlic and bunches of dried flowers hanging from the rafters. A small stove squatted in the corner, unwashed copper pots strewn about it. Pewter bowls and wooden pestles, covered in pollen and rose paste, were littered across a long wooden table. The place was homey and comfortable, not at all where one would expect to find a rabbit-eared, bat-nosed little hobgoblin in fashionable trousers.

Rook rolled his sleeve down. His face still looked a bit green.

“Should I be worried? I’ve had more control,” Rook said. I winced. Fenswick and I knew that gaining more control was a bad sign. Rook’s body was accepting his abilities. He was changing.

When I’d helped him through the dark house below, his arm slung about my shoulder, I had prayed that no one would see as the shadows had flared and rustled. They’d caught at my skirt with inky hands as I’d helped Rook up one painful step after another. Every day they grew stronger.

“No need to worry right now,” Fenswick lied smoothly. My stomach knotted. “Get some rest.”

“I’m sorry,” Rook said to me. “I hate that you had to see such things.”

“I don’t care.” It was the truth; I didn’t give a damn about his powers. I only cared about him. I wanted my Rook back. Gently, I put my hand on his cheek. His skin was hot to the touch. Rook squeezed my wrist, kissing my fingers quickly. My body thrilled for a brief instant, and then he stood.