“I’ll endeavor to be your best pupil.”
I turn to leave but he catches my hand in his. He looks up at me with dark eyes open and sincere. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
“Thank you for deserving one.”
I practically skip toward Eleanor’s uncle’s town house. It’s a few blocks away from the Greenhaven Park door, but I relish the time to myself to consider what just happened. I’m not sure what it means, to me at least, but I don’t have to be sure. Whatever happens between Finn and me, I care for him right now more than I knew I could ever care for anyone.
The future will take care of itself. In the meantime, I see nothing wrong with kissing. Kissing is wonderful.
Lord Rupert’s butler shows me in, saying that Eleanor will see me in her private sitting room. She hasn’t been feeling well lately, still not recovered from her nerves after the symphony.
“I have decided,” she says from the couch where she’s tucked up beneath a quilt, “that I never again want to be the center of gossip. Gossip is much better observed and spread than lived.”
My dreamy haze collapses when I see her. She looks as though she’s lost weight even in the three days since last I called. I sit next to her, putting my hand to her forehead, which is cold and clammy.
“Have you been seen by a doctor?”
“I’m fine. Just tired. But you look like a sparrow in springtime. What has you all bright eyed and blushing?”
I laugh. “You haven’t given Finn a plant, now, have you?”
“I don’t need to spy to tell something is different. Tell me.”
“I kissed Finn.”
“Lord Ackerly? Kissed you? No—you kissed him?” She sits straight, eyes as round as children’s marbles. “You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me. I thought Moira Chapel’s flirtation with the gardener was the best story I had heard this year, but this tops all. Has he proposed, then?”
“No, and I wouldn’t accept if he did. Not yet. I’m perfectly happy to figure out just how much I adore him without committing to adoring him forever.”
“You have a strange idea of marriage if you think that’s what it is about. I expect an engagement before the end of the month. Untouchable Lord Ackerly indeed. Promise to tell no one but me first. I’ll have to book every waking hour with calls to see as many looks on as many faces as possible when they hear.”
I laugh. “Who else would I tell?”
She settles back down, resting her head against the sofa with a cat-in-the-cream smile. “Of course, it would make sense that Lord Ackerly would find the most ridiculous match possible. Oh, pardon, I don’t mean it to be rude.”
I wave my hand. “Doubtless our whole relationship is viewed as a lapse of sanity on his part. But why does it make sense?”
“On account of his parents. He’s told you about them?”
“Only that they shadowed each other.” I blush, realizing that, though I’ve only now opened myself to my feelings for Finn, he threw his soul to me with reckless abandon. I wonder if what is a thrilling, unexpected romance to me is actually a massive relief to him after how I’ve dismissed his shadow and even demanded its removal.
Eleanor huffs. “That man is hopeless. Here he was sitting on one of the great forbidden romances of the century, and he didn’t bother to tell you? I must do everything around here. He’ll have told you about the two magical lines, correct?”
I nod, remembering the symphony. “Albion has all the descendants of the Crombergs, and the rest are Hallins, spread through the continent.”
“No one knows exactly when the split happened, but it was as deep and unbridgeable as any divide in history. The Hallins, being smaller, guard their magical knowledge with deadly fierceness. Crombergs have been killed for merely asking the wrong questions while traveling abroad. We don’t have to be so vigilant about our magic, since our strength is in numbers, not skill. But for ages it’s been mandatory to keep the two lines of magic completely separate. So imagine the scandal when the youngest daughter of the king of Saxxone fell in love and eloped with a certain Lord Ackerly the elder.”
“Finn’s mother was from Saxxone?”
“A princess. Please do not leave that part out, it makes it ever so much more romantic. Anyone else would have been killed, but the king of Saxxone is the most powerful man alive, and the story is that she was always his favorite daughter. So he forbade anyone from doing them harm, but banished them both from the continental countries forever. Lord Ackerly was shunned in Alben society, but as he had already inherited—and those laws are ironclad—there was not much anyone could take from him. They moved to his country estate, removed from everyone and utterly unconcerned, so in love they were with each other.”
“What happened then?”
She smiles sadly. “No one knows. They were more or less forgotten. I hadn’t even heard of them until two years ago when the young Lord Ackerly descended on the finest social circles of the city, charming and handsome and rumored to be downright deadly with his magical knowledge. Everyone called on him, trying to find out whether he had learned Hallin magic. He never demonstrated anything but the most proficient wielding of Cromberg skill since Lord Downpike, whom many consider to be the most powerful man in Albion.
“Lord Downpike was, of course, obsessed with finding out what he knew. According to rumor, he’s been planting spies for years all over the Iverian continent—in Gallen, Saxxone, even the smaller countries like Ruma. Nothing worked. Lord Ackerly was a new, easier target. If Lord Downpike could get your Finn on his side, he thought he could access the elusive Hallin magical knowledge. Downpike tried everything—bribery, threats, even theft—to get to Lord Ackerly, but nothing worked. Lord Ackerly was unconnected to everything and everyone, acquaintance of all and friend to none. He only stepped in when he thought someone was leaning too close to encouraging war. There was nothing for Lord Downpike to do, no advantage for him to secure. Until . . .” She trails off with a pointed smile.
“Until me.”
“Until you.”
“But Finn has said nothing of having extra magic.”
“I’ve tested him myself—oh, don’t tell him! His magic is pure Cromberg. There was nothing strange in it.”
I nod. “And the things I’ve studied from Lord Downpike’s and Finn’s books function in the same way and contain the same relative information.”
“You’re studying magic now? But I thought—can you do anything?”
“No, no. My father may be Alben but he is not noble in any sense of the word. I simply nurture a scholarly curiosity.”
She laughs. “You probably know more than I do now.”
“I’ll admit I find it odd that you have access to all of this information and power and you choose to ignore most of it.”
Her smile becomes sly. “Dear Jessamin, I ignore nothing.”
“But what of the history? I want to know how it happened, where it came from. Who were the original Hallins and Crombergs? How did they discover the magic? What happened to divide them?”
Her look grows serious. “Don’t ask too many questions there. Some history has been lost to time. Other histories have been deliberately hidden. You’re not supposed to know any of this to begin with, and—” She shifts into a hollow, rattling cough. She pulls a handkerchief out to cover her mouth.
“Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
She’s coughing too hard to answer me, so I pour a glass of water and take it to her. When the cough finally passes, she puts the handkerchief down. We both stare.
It’s spotted with blood, seeping as we watch to form the familiar silhouette of a large bird.
“Oh,” Eleanor says, a soft exhalation of surprise. “That can’t be good.”
I stand, then sit, then stand again. “Where is your uncle? He won’t stand for Lord Downpike threatening you!”
Eleanor continues to stare at the handkerchief, her pallor gray. “My uncle left for a month-long holiday yesterday.”
“I’m sending the butler for a doctor immediately. Where is Ernest? Can he stay with you while I run to fetch Finn? Finn can fix this. I know he can.”
Eleanor nods, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Hattie, the maid, she’ll fetch Ernest.” She looks up, her lip trembling. “Jessamin, I’m scared.”
I pull her to me, kiss her forehead. “I will take care of you. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
I wait until the butler is dispatched and Hattie is helping Eleanor into bed before rushing down the stairs. Ernest passes me, his look frantic.
“Jessamin, I—”
“Neither of us can afford to stand idly by anymore, Ernest. I’m sorry for whatever part I play in this, but it is not my fault. It is Lord Downpike’s doing entirely. And until the people with power in this country are willing to openly stand against his vicious bullying to further his cause, everyone is at risk.”
He doesn’t have time to respond before I am out the front door. Finn can fix this. He will. And then—I don’t know. I don’t know how long we can play this game, run around dousing the flames Lord Downpike is sending to lick at our heels.
As I turn a corner at a run, someone grabs my wrist, spinning me to a stop against his chest. I look up into Lord Downpike’s falsely handsome face.
“Such a hurry, little rabbit. It’s as though someone has died. Or is dying, perhaps?”
“You can’t. You won’t. The earl would destroy you.”
Lord Downpike’s hand encircles my wrist in a viselike grip. I try to pull away but he shakes his head. “Careful now. That special glove of yours might come off if you struggle much more. Walk with me like a civilized person, not some rampaging savage.” Keeping his bruising hold, he tucks my hand in the crook of his elbow, walking at a leisurely pace I am forced to match.
“Now, never mind about the earl. I certainly don’t. If his niece were to succumb to a sudden wasting disease, who could blame me? I have nothing but the girl’s best interest at heart. After all, it is my job to protect Cromberg lines, to advance them. But I do think I have seen this particular curse—I mean, illness—before. Very fast-acting. She will not last the night.”
“I will kill you myself.” My voice is hoarse with hatred for him and fear for Eleanor.
“Such threats! A fierce little thing for being the helpless pet of Lord Ackerly. But we are all in luck! I know the precise magic to restore her to full health.”
I clench my jaw, hating him, wishing I could do anything but accept whatever terms he offers. “What do you want?”
“Nothing that is not already mine. Return the book you stole. It holds the exact process I need for your Eleanor. Once it is safely in my hands, I will perform the magic necessary to save her life.”
“I don’t believe you. You know how to reverse the spell.”
“Do I? Will you really risk Eleanor’s life? You could ask your dear Lord Ackerly to find the spell, but it’s such a large volume and she has so very few hours left. Ah, here we are.” He stops in the park, shielded by trees but with a view of the door to Finn’s home. “Do hurry. I can almost hear her desperate coughing from here.”
He releases my hand, and I stumble forward on leaden feet.
I cannot give back the book without losing the only insurance I have against another attack, but I cannot allow Eleanor to suffer and even die for my sake. I burst through the door, screaming for Finn. He’ll know what to do. He’ll fix Eleanor, turn Lord Downpike’s evil plan on its head.
There is no answer, so I run through the hall to the library. A note is tacked to the door.
Urgent summons from the queen. Stay in the house until I return. Please.
Yours,
Finn
Twenty-seven
I DON’T KNOW WHICH I DREAD MORE—THAT Sir Bird will be in bird form when I enter the library, or that he won’t, and I will never get to say good-bye. I push open the door to find him perched on the edge of a chair, completely back to his normal black, arranging a pile of shiny coins and buttons.
“I—” My voice catches. Sir Bird looks at me, extending and retracting his wings nervously. “I have to give you back to him. Lord Downpike. If I don’t, Eleanor will die. Do you understand?”
Sir Bird is very still and then slowly bobs his head once.
“I already owe you my own life. And if you don’t want to do this, I won’t make you. I’ll open the door and you can fly away and I’ll try to find some other way to save Eleanor.”
He hops with a flap of his wings and lands on my shoulder and then nudges my cheek with his beak. He’s giving me permission, and it breaks my heart.
“Will he hurt you?”
Sir Bird shakes his whole body from crown to tail, puffing up his feathers, then caws in his most dismissive tone.
“You are the finest, bravest creature on the whole planet.” I take a deep breath, and then have a thought. It’s a gamble at best, probably pointless, and at worst will bring down more pain and trouble on all of us. I’m already allowing Sir Bird to be sacrificed. Eleanor is dying. Can I risk it?
Is it even possible?
“If I were to write a few pages, could I put them in the book? Could you make them a part of yourself?”
He lets out an uncertain squawking sound and then hops to the table. I kiss his feathered head and stroke the length of his back. “Thank you,” I whisper, then he turns into a book.
Sabotage, sabotage. If, like Finn, Lord Downpike has to renew spells every time he uses them, then maybe I have a chance to mess with his abilities. Opening, I search frantically for anything I recognize. I cannot risk damaging a spell that might be the one Eleanor needs. If it’s even in this book. Finding pages we’d looked at earlier, I rip them out as carefully as I can, hoping Sir Bird cannot feel it. I line them up with a blank sheet of parchment and transcribe the sequences nearly identically, mimicking the pen strokes as best I can. But I make subtle changes, substitute the wrong elements, the wrong words. Fire for water, confusion for clarity, darkness for light. I alter the parts of the equations I can understand. If I had more time, if I’d been able to plan . . . But this is the best I can do.