A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(99)

R’hlem hadn’t touched this place. Even the china bulldog remained on its customary table, waiting for a head pat that would never come again. Already, the optiaethis lantern glowed in its own private corner. It had survived the ambush, then. I hated the sight of it. Blackwood appeared to have anticipated my arrival, because he was seated in a chair and doing a poor job of looking casual. When he saw me, there was a mixture of triumph and concern in his face. I tried to sit with dignity, but the pain twisted like a knife. He rushed to help, but I stopped him.

“I can manage,” I said. He sat opposite me. For someone so bold that he could announce a public engagement, he averted his eyes. “That was a shock,” I said flatly.

“I don’t know what came over me.”

“Liar.” I didn’t say it harshly. “You wanted to put me in a position where I couldn’t say no; at least, not in the room.” I lay against the back of the seat, which ordinarily no lady would do. But the pain became easier to handle.

“You know me well,” he whispered, sounding pleased. His eyes tracked over my form again, the overt longing in his gaze heating my face. He couldn’t desire me now that…well, now.

“I’ve become Unclean.” There was no point trying to pretty up the reality. “You can’t mix a Blackwood bloodline with my degenerate—”

“Don’t say that!” He rose, his features livid. “I don’t care what you become. I want you.”

All my coldness thawed, and I found myself near tears.

“Everything that’s happened is my fault,” I whispered.

“How is that possible? You’re likely the reason there are any of us left at all. If you hadn’t landed that blow on R’hlem…How the devil did you do it?”

This was an order from my Imperator. Even now, the impulse screamed, Lie! Lie for your life! But I was too tired and too hurt.

“R’hlem is my father,” I said. Odd that a few small words could so thoroughly change one’s life.

The muscles in his face went slack. “What?”

“He was thrust into the world of the Ancients years ago, during a failed experiment he performed with Mickelmas.” I paused. “And with your father.”

Blackwood slumped in his seat.

I told him what Mickelmas had revealed about the runes, and how I had convinced R’hlem to get close enough to strike. Every word seemed to deflate him further. When I described my injury from Rook, he put his head in his hands.

I told him what his father had done: cutting the rope that sent my father to his doom. When I’d finished, Blackwood was still.

“You must hate me.” Finally, he looked up, his eyes red. He teetered on the edge of emotion. “Of course you could never love me knowing that.” Every word was soaked in self-loathing. He pounded the side of the chair, the violence startling me, then got up and walked away. “My father poisoned everything else in my life. Why not you as well?”

“When I rejected you, it had nothing to do with your father. I loved Rook.”

Loved. Because Rook was gone now. The wounds at my shoulder throbbed, reiterating my failure.

“Loved?” Blackwood said the word tentatively. Hope was in his voice and eyes. “So you don’t love him anymore.” No question. It was a veiled order. Gritting my teeth, I climbed to my feet. I would not be told what I could and could not feel, not even now.

Agony burrowed deeper, kicking my knees out from under me. Blackwood caught and cradled me while I grounded myself in the steady rhythm of his heart. The silk of his waistcoat was cool, his small ivory buttons biting into my cheek. He murmured apologies.

“At least we’re honest with each other again,” I whispered.

“Yes. Your secrets are mine.” That slight edge of delight pervaded his voice. His grip became possessive. Here was that tiny part of his father, the bit that sought to master. But Blackwood was not his father.

“I suppose it’s up to you, as the Imperator, what to do with me.” If he wanted to throw me into a prison wagon and drag me up north, I wouldn’t fight.

“We’ll keep it quiet, of course, but if R’hlem survives, we can use you to our advantage.”

I’d stabbed my father in the heart. If we met again, I doubted he’d be at his most cordial.

“You’re taking this rather well,” I said cautiously.

“I can hardly judge you for your father, given what you know of mine.” Blackwood circled his arm around my waist, helping me to sit. My shoulder throbbed, but the pain diminished as his slender fingers cupped the back of my neck. “In a perverse way, it makes me feel nearer to you.” He brought his lips close to mine. “I know I don’t have your heart the way Rook did, and I don’t enthrall like some.” Magnus’s unspoken name hung in the air. “But I can promise you my love, Henrietta.” His voice caressed my name. “I want you to rule at my side.”

Rule the Order? I didn’t think I was fit to rule anybody.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” I said carefully. The desire I glimpsed in his eyes overwhelmed me.

“You could be the second-most powerful person in English sorcery, and you don’t think it a good idea?” He sounded baffled.

That was the problem, sorcery itself. We were now an endangered species, about to isolate ourselves further from the world. Perhaps it was wise, but it didn’t feel right. Besides, Mickelmas had left me with the Army of the Burning Rose—well, the promise to protect it, at least. So…