“I enjoy the shadows,” Sophie said.
“The shadows?”
At the phaeton, the wolfripper hound licked her hand. Charlotte let it into the back, and they got into the vehicle. Sophie started the phaeton, and they rolled off into the night.
“I walk the path of the lightning blade. A warrior poised between light and darkness. It’s difficult to explain.”
“I would appreciate it if you tried anyway.”
Sophie frowned, her profile, lit by the golden glow of the instruments panel, etched against the night outside. “The death isn’t important. The only thing that matters is the moment of decision. My path is a line. My opponent’s path is another line. In the instant we meet, we’re forever altered. We may both walk away, or my line or his line may end, but for a brief time we exist in the same space on the verge of action, and that space is full of possibilities. It’s the moment in which I truly live. It’s short. It’s always so very short.”
An old memory flashed before Charlotte. She was sixteen, attending a dance during a summit with another college, and as she stood there, chatting with her friends, she saw an older boy looking at her from across the floor. She saw admiration in his eyes. In that brief instant, when their gazes met, an array of possibilities flashed before her: he could come over, he could talk to her, there could be the start of something . . . It was a sweet kind of thrill, slightly frightening, but exciting. But Sophie found it in battle and was addicted to it. How could you even begin to fix something like that?
“What’s the next step?” Sophie asked.
“The next step is to prepare for the Grand Thane’s wedding. We need to pack and leave in three days. It will take us at least a day to get there, and we need to make sure we don’t arrive too early or too late. You will love Pierre de Rivière. I saw it first when I was your age, and it is a beautiful castle. We’ll attend the wedding, where I’ll catch Brennan’s attention, and find some way to connect Hunter and Maedoc.” She wasn’t quite sure how she would go about it.
Thinking about the wedding made her feel uneasy. Anxiety took her heart into a cold fist and squeezed. What if something happened to her or to Richard? This was no game. If they stumbled, Brennan would kill them.
She didn’t want to do it, Charlotte realized. She was afraid. She wanted to run away with Richard back to the cabin in the woods and pretend none of this had ever happened. The anticipation of what she was about to do pressed on her like a crushing weight. She wanted to escape.
“That’s where Spider will be,” Sophie said. “At the wedding.”
“That’s where you won’t kill him.”
“What if I could?” Sophie asked.
“Tell me, what does Spider do?”
“He’s an agent of the Hand and the head of a Hand’s crew,” Sophie said.
“People under his command are enhanced to monstrous levels. I find it very unlikely that he would travel alone. Look at me, Sophie.”
The girl turned her face to Charlotte.
“Promise me that you won’t kill him. I placed so much trust in you. Tell me you won’t betray it.”
“I won’t,” Sophie said. “You’ve been very kind to me. You don’t have to worry, Lady Charlotte. I keep my promises.”
FIFTEEN
THE long-distance phaeton shot out of the woods. It was time to wake Sophie. Charlotte touched the girl’s hand, and she awoke instantly, fully alert.
“Look out the window,” Charlotte said.
Sophie leaned toward the wide panel of glass in the phaeton. A vast river stretched before them, its placid waters golden and pearl, reflecting the glory of the setting sun. A flat bridge spanned the endless width of the river, and in the middle of the bridge, thrusting straight out of the water, a castle rose.
Sophie took a sharp breath.
The castle of Pierre de Rivière towered before them like a massive stately mountain of buildings crafted with cream stone. Couched in green trees growing from planters, its walls and countless terraces and balconies all but glowed in the sun. Thin, ornate spires stretched to the sky. Giant windows looked out onto the world from among the textured parapets and ornamental wall carvings so delicate, so light, that the entire enormous structure seemed to float upon the waters of the river.
“It’s so beautiful,” Sophie whispered.
“I hoped you would like it. It’s one of the wonders of the continent.”
The phaeton entered the bridge. The wolfripper dog raised his shaggy head in alarm.
“It’s fine,” Charlotte told him.
She’d suggested leaving the hound at the Camarine estate, but Sophie had hugged him and looked at her as if she’d suggested cutting off an arm. Faced with two pairs of sad puppy eyes, Charlotte had capitulated. She had insisted on a leash, a bath, and a haircut, all of which had failed to turn him into a pampered pet. He still looked like he chased wolves through the woods. They would have to make an effort to walk him, and he would make things less convenient, but it couldn’t be helped.
A high, forlorn cry rolled through the sky, as if the clouds had sung.
“Look!” Charlotte pointed at a bright green spark dropping from the sky.
The spark plummeted, growing, becoming an enormous scaled shape armed with massive wings. The wyvern circled the castle, the sun reflecting from the cabin on its back. Another joined it, then another . . . One by one, they landed on the castle grounds.
“The elite of both realms will be there.” Charlotte smiled. “Are you excited?”
Sophie nodded.
“I’m so glad. Enjoy it,” Charlotte told her. “It’s magic.”
They had work to do, but for now she would just sit here and watch the world of wonder blossom in the child’s eyes, and for a few brief moments, she could be fifteen again, riding in a phaeton to her first ball.
The bridge brought them beneath the portcullis to the main thoroughfare that circled the castle. The phaeton veered right, along a side route, and finally came to a stop in the courtyard before a grand stairway. A familiar man stood on the bottom step, speaking to a noble in a dark doublet. Brennan, Charlotte realized.
Their driver opened the door, and Charlotte stepped out.
“Charlotte!” Angelia called.
Oh Dawn Mother. “Angelia!”
Angelia Ermine swept into her view. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
At the stairway, Brennan turned. His gaze snagged on them. He smiled at the man he was speaking too and strode toward them.
Anxiety pierced Charlotte. She pretended to listen to Angelia. She wore a silk tunic and trousers, both in a beautiful shade of green. The clothes were formfitting and only a hint suggestive, which made them rather prim by the standards of society. She hadn’t counted on meeting Brennan right off the phaeton, but the possibility existed, and she had dressed precisely for that occasion.
“Angelia,” Brennan said.
The other woman spun, surprised. “Robert . . .”
“My dear, I’m most put out.” Brennan took Angelia’s hand and kissed her fingers. “You’ve been denying me the pleasure of your company. One would almost think you were displeased with me.”
Angelia blinked. “Of course not.”
“Who is your friend?”
Angelia produced a charming smile. “Charlotte de Ney al-te Ran.”
Brennan blinked. The name had the desired effect.
“Charlotte, Lord Robert Brennan.”
Charlotte curtsied. “Your Highness.”
“Oh no, please. No titles.” Brennan waved his hand. “My memory may be betraying me, but I’m almost positive I haven’t encountered you before. I would have remembered our meeting.”
“May I tell him?” Angelia asked. “May I?”
“As you wish.”
“Charlotte comes to us from the Ganer College of Medicinal Arts. She has spent quite a long time there.”
“They don’t let us out much.” Charlotte smiled. “It’s almost like a convent.”
Interest sparked in Brennan’s eyes. She was right—the idea of seducing a woman shut off in a convent appealed to him.
“How peculiar,” Brennan said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a College escapee.”
“Then I’m flattered to be the first, my lord.”
“Are you a healer?” Brennan asked.
“Only a physician, my lord.” Lucky for her, Ganer College was home to both magic healers and their mundane counterparts. Given that Brennan had gone to visit the Island of Na, he must’ve heard of Silver Death killing people on the island with strange magic. She didn’t want to advertise her talents. He could connect the dots.
“She’s a healer,” Angelia blurted out. “An excellent one.”
Charlotte heaved a small sigh. “Forgive me, my lord. We don’t usually identify ourselves outside of the College.”
“Perfectly understandable. I imagine you would be inundated with requests otherwise.” Brennan glanced at Angelia. “I had no idea you kept such exotic company. I do hope you haven’t been ill, my lady?”
Angelia’s composure crumbled. “Lady Charlotte is a friend,” she squeezed through her teeth. “But now that you mention it, yes, I have been ill. I’ve caught a most unpleasant disease from a most surprising source. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”
“I would love to hear it, but we’re being rude to your friend.”
“Oh no, not at all,” Charlotte said. “I’m tired from my journey, and I need to do all those small secret female things women do to make themselves presentable before the dinner. Please excuse me.”
“Thank you for your understanding,” Brennan said. “The loss is entirely ours.”
Charlotte curtsied and watched them walk away. Angelia’s spine was rigid like a spear—she was fuming. She was about to reveal to Brennan that he had infected her with Dock Rot, and that conversation couldn’t possibly go well.