He regained his thoughts. Octavia was glancing about. "Still no sign of Lucy? I am wrong to worry, perhaps?"

  Carlo leaned toward her and spoke softly. "I have an excellent guess as to where she is hiding. Give me a moment and I'll go looking. That man by the window. That must be Vergilius Claudian, correct?"

  "Yes."

  Drusus looked like a more genteel version of this man. Vergilius, the son who would inherit the country estate, had the look of a rough and tumble adventurer. Carlo remembered Drusus was the third. "There's a second brother?"

  "Antonius," said Octavia. "At sea most of the time."

  "Who is the woman with Mr. Claudian?"

  "His wife Lenore. She is a Dantes heiress. Her English has much improved. When she arrived, she couldn't speak a word."

  "Aren't you English reluctant to marry outside of, well, your nationality?"

  "Magicians are not. Turn to your right."

  Carlo moved and saw a brown woman, her hair swept back in a simple bun, wearing a draped outfit of a skirt and a shawl-toga that swept over her shoulders. He could see a glimpse of her brown stomach. Next to her was a gentleman with a bushy beard, dressed in a turban and a white coat.

  As a Venetian, he was used to people from the world over. It had often been suggested Venice was the place where Europe and the East met. Here in Hathersage, he was amazed such people existed, especially given the reaction at The George to his own arrival. "Do they live here?"

  "No," said Octavia. "They are visiting for the party. Business partners of the Galts. A branch of the Pasha. I have met the woman before, Miss Swati Pasha. Her brother is Siddharta Pasha. Miss Pasha and young Titus are interested in each other. We magicians are fewer in number in most countries and so are interested in aligning with people who understand us, regardless of the way biases work in other places. A relationship with someone who doesn't understand the magical families could be complicated. It would be foolish of us to let artificial notions keep us from combining our resources."

  "You make it sound as though you all live in peace and harmony, yet the Klaereons hate the Galts."

  "We do not all get along, make no mistake. You said you were going to find Lucy?"

  "No doubt she is hiding in the library."

  Octavia tipped her head. "I wish I were hiding in the library. I will greet Vergilius while you are gone. They will begin seating for dinner soon, so don't be long."

  Carlo clicked his heels again. Octavia laughed. "I am not taken in by your faux Austrianism."

  "That is for the rest of the room."

  "You should tell Lucy how you feel."

  Carlo raised his index finger to his lips. "We shall not speak of that again." He weaved through the guests on his way back to the now empty entry hall. Where in the house was the library? There had to be one.

  "Excuse me?"

  Carlo opened his eyes. Helen Galt. Carlo retreated into the shell of the little foreign man. "My apologies," said Carlo. "The crowd was too much."

  Miss Galt nodded. "The weather is a bit cool for me to suggest you step into the garden, and dinner is soon."

  "I will spend a moment here. Unless you know where I might find Miss Klaereon?"

  Helen's eyes narrowed just a bit. "You are an old friend of hers?"

  "Like a brother."

  "You're in luck," said Helen, just under her breath. "She is in the library."

  Carlo had it in one guess.

  "That would be a good place for you to regain your center as well. Let me show you."

  "Thank you, Miss Galt."

  "Mr. Borgia," said Helen as they journeyed out of the main room, "I understand you made Miss Klaereon's acquaintance in Venice?"

  "Yes," said Carlo. They continued down a hallway of the same bland paneling. Galt House seemed to be a package wrapped in plain paper, but when you peeled back the paper, the rooms were surprises.

  "In a rather dramatic way?"

  How much did this woman know? "Some would say so."

  "And here you are in our corner of the world. I hope you will find Hathersage much more tame."

  "Venice is polluted and dangerous. Your English countryside is fresh and beautiful."

  "You would be surprised at how dangerous some places can be." Helen opened a door. "Our library, sir. I would wait, but I am hostess and must begin seating. If you could coax Miss Klaereon out of the library, I would be most grateful."

  "Coax?"

  "Persuade, Mr. Borgia." Helen shook her head. "You know Lucy does not care for people as much as she should."

  "I believe she does as much as she is temperamented to do."

  "So she does. Please excuse me. I would like to stay, but there is a social event to get on with. Very pleased to make your acquaintance." Helen moved down the hallway, leaving Carlo with questions. How convenient it had been that Miss Galt had shown up.

  The Galts had a large library, built to impress. All of the books were bound in the same leather, as in the most erudite of households, an attempt to display opulence, a patrician's home. Carlo wondered if the books here were even magical ones. Probably not. The Galts would not place power in the wrong hands, especially in a room fellow magicians might visit. Carlo could smell the secretive nature of the Galts.

  Directly across from him was a book entitled Family History. If he wished an opportunity to study the Galts, that book would be a good place to start. He suspected they would miss it if he borrowed it.

  "I'm sorry," said a male voice. "I didn't know I'd find you in here." It echoed back to him.

  Carlo turned with a start, then realized the noise came from two shelves away.

  "Atreus," said Lucy.

  Carlo moved closer to the conversation. Of course, Galt would know Lucy was here and come to escort her. Carlo kept to the shadows. In a drama, there would be a convenient couch for him to duck behind. As long as he was unseen, he had no moral qualms about eavesdropping. Lucy was dressed in a lavender evening gown, her hair pulled away from her face in tiny ringlets. Her dress unfashionably had sleeves, and she wore short gloves. Her dark hair sparkled with white stones. She was delicate and beautiful, and Carlo wanted to tell her so.

  "Lucy," said Galt. "It's time for us to join the party. Will you allow me to escort you?"

  Lucy was quiet, drawn into herself. "Every time I come in this room, I am surprised by the extent of your collection. I would be excited to see your magical books as well."

  "That collection is larger," said Galt, a smile touching his lips. He cleared his throat. "Before our marriage, it would be imprudent for me to show them to you. I keep those in my own private study. Once we are married, you may look to your heart's content. I know you value knowledge above all things."

  All Galt would want in exchange, Carlo thought, was a trip to the scroll chamber, where he could gaze at the white bone case, then add it to his collection. Best not to even give Galt the opportunity to get close to Solomon's Scroll.

  Galt wasn't so tall he towered over Lucy. Most people actually were taller than she was by a good foot or so, but he wasn't as tall as Drusus or Carlo. She could probably kiss him without him having to bend over. Maybe she should get a courting stool, lightweight, foldable, easy to pull out for those intimate moments. He shook his head. Those bitter thoughts were unworthy of her friend, who was still going to talk her out of marrying Galt.

  Galt extended his arm. "Shall we?"

  Lucy took a deep breath. "No, Atreus. I am sorry, but I believe I must not marry you."

  Carlo almost cried out with relief.

  Galt's voice was rigid. "It is too late for that."

  "Surely," Lucy said, her voice soft, "you would not really want me. I bring none of Octavia's advantages to a union."

  "Octavia has beauty and passion. You have forbearance and intellect. You also have a tendency to see what is inside society and outside society. You are brilliant and you understand a magician's place in the world."

  "Above those who are not magicians?"

  "We are caretakers, good parents, but these people cannot take care of themselves. Else we would not be surrounded by poverty or disease."

  There was an arrogance Carlo could hardly countenance.

  After a short time, Lucy spoke again. "You don't suppose given an opportunity to manage their own affairs, those above and below you in social status and magical ability could manage to live appropriately?"

  "I don't see that as possible. Where there is true superiority of the mind, there will be success." Atreus paused. "To what end, your sudden reluctance?"

  What would Lucy say?

  "I have examined my options more carefully."

  "I don't understand."

  "Our marriage would be based on the wrong foundation. There is no love here."

  "I am not amused by this change of heart, Lucia." Galt sneered at her. "You know I will not allow this to pass unchallenged."

  "I am sorry for misleading you, I truly am. Things have changed."

  "You mean that peasant who has returned to see you? You have feelings for him?"

  "No," said Lucy. "I have no feelings for him, or you."

  "You do have feelings for him." Galt sounded like he was forcing the words out. "You will come with me, and we will announce our engagement, and you will follow through."

  "No. I won't."

  There was silence. Carlo waited.

  Finally, Galt spoke. "You agreed to marry me. You said we could be allies. Don't you find the prospect of what we could be together exhilarating?"

  "I feel differently now."

  Galt's voice was calm in the way a summer sky is calm before storm clouds move in. "Lucy, you will—"

  "—regret this decision? I am sorry, but I am certain I would be the last person in the world who could make you happy. I am certain you would be the last person who would make me so."

  "Your family will pay for this."

  "No, they won't." Lucy's voice was sharp. She was angry. Lucy was angry? "Because if I catch a whiff of you near my family, I will kill you with no more thought than I would have snapping a twig off a tree."

  Carlo leaned around the shelf. Galt stepped toward her. Did he need to intervene?

  Lucy stood her ground. "Prove me right."

  Galt steamed. Carlo ducked. Heavy footsteps crossed the room, and then the door slammed.

  Carlo waited for a few minutes. "Lucy."

  "Carlo. How long have you been there?" Lucy ran a finger along the arm of a velvet chair.

  "Long enough. Octavia sent me to fetch you."

  Lucy gazed at the fire. "I am not marrying Atreus."

  "No." He stepped out from behind the bookcase.

  "I know there are things you wish to say to me, but right now I need you to extract Octavia from a most embarrassing position. I have caused a great deal of trouble."

  "Your broken engagement will be good news to her."

  "I imagine so. Right now, however, she will be caught unaware."

  "I can't leave you here."

  Lucy’s head shook and her curls danced. "Helen will see me off."

  "Can I call on you tomorrow, see how you are doing?"

  "No. I would rather you didn't."

  "I am your friend, and that's all. I want to help."

  Lucy would not look at him. "Please do as I ask, Carlo. Do not involve yourself with me."

  Carlo said nothing. He slipped back into the hallway and quickened his steps toward Octavia. The guests were still gathered in the green room, an undertone of rumble and confusion. Carlo sifted through the people to find Octavia. Helen Galt led her toward him.

  "Carlo, Helen tells me—"

  "It's true. We have to leave."

  "What about Lucy?"

  "Leave Lucy to me," said Helen.

  "Ladies and gentlemen." Atreus Galt's voice resonated from the door connecting the dining room and the green parlor. "I regret my betrothed has come down with a sudden illness and won't be joining us tonight. We will not be able to announce our engagement as planned. However, I still invite you to partake of a delicious dinner."

  A servant delivered Octavia's wrap and Carlo's cloak. "Thank you, Helen," said Octavia.

  "Have a safe journey home."

  In the carriage, Octavia settled into her seat. "Tell me what happened."

  "Lucy has broken it off with Galt."

  "Because of you?" The carriage jostled both of them, and Octavia fought for balance.

  "No, not because of me. She seems to have thought better of it."

  Octavia sighed and straightened. "It's for the best. There will be scandal, but we can weather that."

  "Not everyone in the town believes you are evil incarnate now. That might help with the scandal."

  "I suspect not."

  Carlo gazed at his own reflection in the window. "She's not marrying Galt. That's the best we could hope for."

  "I am sorry she causes you so much pain," said Octavia.

  Carlo forced a bright smile. "You and I, let's bring Drusus home."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Carlo threw aside the scratchy blanket in disgust. He stared at the ceiling in his small room at The George. He wasn't going to sleep tonight. Stop. He needed to sort himself. He was going to ignore every bit of Lucy's strange behavior at the party, Lucy being some alien creature who could care for no one. Going to get Lucy out of his mind. Why did he keep revisiting the scene at Galt House?

  Because she had acted so odd this evening, almost like her old self. Because she had broken off her marriage. Because she had talked of happiness, and had been angry. How was that possible?

  This melodrama was not worthy of him. He had vowed to start over, and start over he would. He shouldn't care romantically about Lucy. This woman happened to look like the woman he happened to have fallen in love with. That was all. She wasn't marrying Atreus Galt. That was all he wanted to prevent.

  Maybe he hadn't ever loved Lucy. Maybe he just wanted to take care of her and he had confused his emotions with love.

  He knew better. Lucy was brave. She had sacrificed herself to save others. She was worthy of his admiration. Even as she was now, she wanted to be better. He still fantasized about her as she had been when he found her again in the Abyss, walking out of the Golden City of the Egyptians, her hair braided, in her robe of red. There was nothing platonic about his fantasy, ever.

  Nothing for it. He needed to walk. Carlo dressed. A night prowl in Berlin or Venice would calm his mood. Here, he believed the locals called what he was about to do hiking. His night vision was very good for being only a quarter deity, so he wouldn't fall off a peak. Carlo checked the vials in his coat. All there. Poisoning himself was an option, although he wasn't certain, given his ability to heal, if that would end his misery. Besides, he could hardly keep his promise to Drusus and Khun if he did.

  He smirked. Calm down. Who do you think you are? Drusus? If he kept speaking to himself thusly, he might be cured of unrequited love in a decade or so.

  Carlo trotted down the stairs. There were die hard drinkers still in the pub. George had fallen asleep on a stool, his head leaning on one arm. Carlo slipped out the door. The night wind bit him, and his teeth chattered. Bracing. This cold would knock the longing right out of him, he was sure of it. The moonlight rendered the night silver. He was right: The walk would do him good.

  He rounded the pub and debated with himself. Should he take the road toward Hathersage, or the road toward the factory further away from town? Or should he cross the moor toward Mistraldol? He started walking. He'd figure it out when he reached the crossroads.

  Someone else was walking ahead of him, which he thought very odd, even odder when his weary mind made out who it had to be. It was unlikely a girl would be out walking so late at night in the country. She could only be one person. "Lucy?"

  She turned her head, and then moved faster. He ran to catch up with her, and she hurried her steps. "Lucy?"

  She stopped and turned. Moonlight lit up Lucy's skin, transforming her briefly into a Binder again. "Carlo. I am surprised to see you."

  "I am staying at The George" he said stiffly.

  "I meant awake. Out. Late at night," Lucy said.

  "And yet."

  "I have a great deal to think over. I want to apologize for earlier. I felt it unfair to involve you in my personal life. I don't want you to think you were responsible for what happened."

  Carlo cocked his head. "Yes, well, you mustn't assume I am interested. In you. Like that." He was glad she couldn't see his cheeks reddening. Could she?

  "I know you are not." She studied her feet. "Your good opinion is important to me, even if I am not worthy of it."

  Carlo softened. "Given your circumstances, you are very severe upon yourself. Do you often ramble the moor late at night?"

  "Only on special occasions, when old friends are in town."

  Carlo laughed. "That was actually funny. We could walk together a little, if you like."

  "I am not certain we should."

  "No one is going to see us do so. Propriety would be maintained."

  "You forget. Propriety has never known where to find my family." The wind blew the hood off her cloak and strands of her hair fluttered, wispy in the wind. Her hair was still decorated for the party, and the jewels flickered.

  "I am walking toward Mistraldol anyway," Carlo said, deciding. "Let me see you home. For your sister's sake, if not your own."

  They started down the road, Carlo with his hands behind his back, Lucy some small distance away.

  "I like your mustache and beard," said Lucy. "They make you look very adult."

  "Thank you. You look quite grown up yourself, in your finery."

  Lucy didn't say anything.

  Carlo was silent, listening to their footsteps. Had he just reminded her of the broken engagement? Or implied she wasn't an adult because of her size? The silence stretched into the cold night, uncomfortable. "Lucy? Have I offended you?"

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26