Cold Magic
Page 169

Bee grasped my hand as my heart staggered and stopped and congealed to lead in my chest, and then bolted into a full gallop. I laughed, pressing a hand to my mouth.
“Poor dog,” said Bee. “Although I hate those filthy peahens in the park. But it makes you think, doesn’t it? We are not without resources.”
I lowered my hand. “What are you thinking?”
“Fire is their weapon,” she said.
“Whose weapon? The mob’s?”
“No. The radicals. They mean to burn away the old order. Think how sheltered we’ve been, Cat. How little we know. How many times we walked past the Northgate Poet without the least idea he meant to face down the prince. We’re not beaten yet. How shall we start?”
“I think we should start by getting a hearty supper, a bath, and a good night’s sleep.”
She laughed, and then we cried a little just in sheer relief. After, we sat in mute amity, watching the silent city pass and listening to the clop of horses’ hooves as our driver wielded reins and whip, and our stern escort of soldiers and silent cold mage guided us through the city and at last to Falle Square, the place that had once been my home. Gaslights faded as our company drew alongside and then swelled back to life after we passed.
“Look,” said Bee. “There’s a light in Papa’s office window.”
Seeing the candle, my heart grew dark. We disembarked on the porch. Andevai escorted us to the door. It opened before we could knock to reveal an astonished Callie.
“Maestressa!” she cried, seeing Beatrice. Then she recognized me and took in the magister, and she stood back without another word to let us pass inside.
“Wait here,” said Bee. “Let me go up alone to my father. Callie, can you put together some manner of supper? And heat water for a bath? We’ll just use the copper tub in the kitchen.” She went up the steps. Callie hurried into the back, leaving me with the cold mage in the entry hall.
The first time I had seen him, I had thought him vain, arrogant, and conceited, and far too well aware that he was a powerful magister from a powerful mage House who walked through the world with a handsome face and expensive, well-cut, and flattering clothing. Nothing about him had changed, except maybe he had dug down and discovered the kernel that was his essential self, which was still vain and arrogant and a magister. But that was not all he was. I could see his resemblance to his grandmother in the steady regard of his gaze.
“We are still married, Catherine,” he said. “I will not abandon you. Or sacrifice you, as the Barahals did. Neither will I force you to come with me, as so many selfish magisters have done to the women of my village.”
I wanted to argue with him, to declare that I had escaped him once and could do so again, but after all, Bee and I had not escaped Four Moons House. So I remained silent.
Falteringly, he went on. “It became plain to me that my village helped you escape out from under my nose on Hallows Night. They did it because they chose to honor guest rights above their own safety. I cannot do less than they did. So I have my own offer to make you. If you wish, you can make a home with my kinsmen in the village. They will take you in and treat you as a daughter. Or, if you wish”—here he paused to take in a resolute breath before going on—“you can come with me back to Four Moons House.”
“After what happened in the mill, you’re returning to Four Moons House?”
“Catherine! Of course I have to return. Do I have to list the reasons?” He raised a hand to touch the gold locket he wore at his neck, realized he had done so, and fisted the hand as he lowered it. His next words were delivered in a clipped tone. “But of course you cannot wish to come with me, after everything that has happened.”
When it is very cold, it is easy to feel heat flush your cheeks. “I thank you for your kind offer, Andevai Diarisso Haranwy,” I said in as level a voice as I could muster. “I am well aware you took great risk on yourself and your blameless village when you decided to help me. What happened before is therefore gone, forgiven, dismissed, and we are quit of it.”
“Does that mean you forgive me for even one breath considering that I might be obliged to kill you?”
If it were possible to blush harder, I am sure I did so, because he stared at me with such a look as made him seem much better-looking even than he likely thought himself, and it is very bad to encourage young men into believing you find them handsome. “Yes. But my answer must be no. To your offer, I mean. I have to find my own way. I have to find out who my kin really are. I remain grateful to the honor with which your kin treated me. As for the other, I do not belong at Four Moons House. But I thank you, for being what are you, which is a man of honor, one who respects me.”