The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(20)

I raise my eyebrows.

Nicholas smiles at me. “He’s very strict.” He nods at John.

“Like a priest on Sunday,” chimes in George.

John responds with something a priest on Sunday definitely would not do. George and Nicholas crack up with laughter. I start to smile, but stop immediately.

“I’ll check on you both in the morning,” John says, walking to the door.

“You don’t have to do that,” I blurt. Healers make me nervous. And the idea of this too young and far too male healer coming into my room—alone, when I’m in bed—makes me even more nervous.

“Whyever not?” George asks, mystified. “He’s only been checking on you every hour since you got here. If we’re down to twice a day now, that’s a vast improvement.”

I feel my cheeks grow hot. Every hour? Was he the one who changed my gown? Cleaned me up? No, that was the girl. God, I hope it was the girl.

“It’s not necessary, that’s all. I’m fine,” I say again, but John isn’t even looking at me. He’s scowling at George.

Then he turns to me with a small smile. “Don’t argue with the clergy.” He closes the door quietly behind him.

Nicholas leans back in his chair and sips his drink. I wait for him to say something, but he just sits there, tapping his fingernail on the goblet and staring at its contents. Finally, he speaks.

“Elizabeth, up until now, you have been a good and loyal subject of King Malcolm, have you not?”

“Yes.”

“As such, you have, up until now, abided by the rules and laws of his kingdom, correct?”

I hesitate a little, then nod. Where is he going with this?

“Whether or not you believed his rules to be fair.”

That’s where. “Yes.”

He drains his goblet and hands it to George. “As you may know, not all of King Malcolm’s subjects are as loyal as you. Not all of them abide by his rules. Many of them, myself included, believe his rules are wrong. How could it be right that an innocent girl such as yourself be thrown in jail and sentenced to death? For nothing more than possessing herbs?”

The herbs.

I guess I’m not surprised he knows about them. He knew my name, knew I was in prison. It stands to reason he would know why. And what I used them for.

Who else knows? That healer? The girl? George? A glance at him confirms it: He doesn’t meet my eyes, intent now on examining his fingernails. A hot blush works its way up my cheeks again, and I duck my head in hopes of hiding it.

“It’s all right,” Nicholas says, his deep voice quiet. “You needn’t fear recrimination here. There’s no one here who will judge you, or harm you. You’re safe now.”

Safe. It’s the same thing he said in prison. Right after he multiplied on me and converged on me and used magic to subdue me. It’s enough to remind me of burnings, of death, enough to remind me who my enemy is. I was a fool to forget it, even for an instant.

A fool.

“You.” I turn to George. “You’re not a fool at all, are you? You’re a Reformist. A spy.” I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.

George looks at Nicholas, who nods. “Aye. It’s true,” George says. “I am a spy. And a Reformist. But believe me, I’m still a fool,” he adds, winking.

I can’t believe Nicholas managed to place a spy right under Malcolm’s nose. More than that, I can’t believe he admitted it. This is too much, even for me. I have to get out of here. And the sooner I get this wizard talking, the sooner I can figure out how.

“At Fleet, you told me you were sent to find me,” I say to Nicholas. “Who sent you?”

“From time to time we consult a seer. She helps us by telling us things. Things that have not yet happened, things that have already happened but we don’t yet know about. Everything she has ever told us has proved to be true, so we take her visions very seriously.”

Already, I don’t like the sound of this. But he continues.

“The last two times we saw her, she said we had to find you—you, specifically—and bring you here.”

“Me?” The fear I felt earlier is back. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t know. She hasn’t been able to tell us, at least not yet. Seers can be roundabout at times. It can take several visions for their meaning to become clear. But now that you’re here, that will change. We’ll take you to her, and she’ll be able to tell us everything.”

It may not be clear to Nicholas, but it is to me. This seer, she’s finding witch hunters. Because if they’re really looking to stop the burnings, killing witch hunters is a good place to start. As soon as they realize that’s what I am, they’ll start with me.

I can’t kill him: Blackwell’s rule. I can’t fight him or capture him: I’m still too weak and I’m not about to risk his performing any more magic on me. Which leaves only one choice:

Escape.

Out of this house, back to Upminster. Find Caleb and tell him what happened. Lead him straight back here, along with every witch hunter we’ve got. It’s the only hope I have of earning back Blackwell’s favor. The only hope I have of getting out of here alive. So I do the only thing I know that is guaranteed to drive both George and Nicholas out of this room: I bury my face in my hands and pretend to cry.