growing chancy, requiring more and more brandy to dull the pain.
I’d let myself go deeper over the last few weeks as I’d sought information for Simon and Guy while I was out skulking around the edges of the Night World, and I was paying the price for it in my constant headaches.
Tonight, despite the fact I’d already strained the limits of my tolerance by going to the DuCaines’ ball, it seemed I would have to risk delving even further into the depths of my abilities.
Ignatius
, I thought fiercely.
Show me Ignatius
.
The images swirled around me, flickering like leaves in a storm wind. I searched them desperately, trying to find that arrogant face amongst the whirlwind. Other Blood came to me. The stark beauty of Adeline Louis and the cruel face of the late unlamented Lord Lucius. Not what I wanted to see at all.
And then, finally, another glimpse of Ignatius. I reached out my hand and grabbed at the image, drawing it closer in my mind.
Ignatius.
The images multiplied around, rising like a swarm of bees. Full of blood and horror. Ignatius standing over corpses, Ignatius feeding, fangs buried deep in the neck of a weeping woman. Ignatius laughing as someone was killed in front of him. Ignatius seated in a vast hall, in a chair that had to be called a throne while Beast and Fae knelt before him.
What the hell
?
I wrenched myself out of the vision, nerves screaming with the sharp pain of my resistance.
Fae kneeling to the Blood.
No.
Not possible. If that were a possible future, the City was in far worse trouble than I had suspected.
My heart pounded in my ears as the room reeled around me. I tasted bile and brandy in my throat and swallowed it back with an effort.
“What did you see?” Martin’s voice was eager in my ear. “What is it?”
I swallowed again, not sure I could speak without my voice shaking. “I didn’t see Simon DuCaine.” Fire rolled through my head, searing. Gods. I wanted the pain to stop. If I survived this night, I was going to see Saskia, find out if the effect of her touch had just been a coincidence.
Martin growled. “I don’t believe you, boy.”
I opened my eyes as the sick burning feeling in my head receded. Turned my head and stared at him. “I’m telling the truth.”
Chapter Three
S ASKIA
The morning came too soon. The hall maid knocked at my door at precisely half past six as I had requested. I’d had only a few hours’ sleep and they’d been uneasy, with the memory of that last touch of Fen’s hand on mine mixing with images of my brothers fighting and the City in uproar in my dreams.
In truth, it was a relief to be awake, even though my body tried to persuade me to stay where I was. Ignoring the siren song of more sleep, I climbed out of bed, groped for my robe, and stumbled the short distance across the room to the door. The steaming tea tray set neatly on the floor outside was a welcome sight. Even better, the smell wafting up from the china pot it held spoke of coffee, not tea. Thank fire.
I gulped down coffee in between bites of bread and jam. Not my usual breakfast, but nerves kindled sparks in my stomach as I’d known they would. I could eat more after the ceremony. Hopefully I would have something to celebrate by then.
After breakfast I dressed carefully, donning the best of my apprentice tunics, the one I kept for official occasions. Its earthy red was unmarred by burns or scald marks or chemical stains and it smelled like the soap used by the laundry instead of the faint scent of smoke and fire that usually permeated my clothes. With my hair braided behind my head and a clean black skirt, I looked respectable. Adult. Trustworthy.
Nervous
, I realized, studying the pale reflection in the mirror. I pinched my cheeks, not wanting to bother with cosmetics or glamours. There were enough opportunities to play with feminine things in my mother’s world, particularly now with Holly joining the family. Having the services of a very talented modiste at
I’d let myself go deeper over the last few weeks as I’d sought information for Simon and Guy while I was out skulking around the edges of the Night World, and I was paying the price for it in my constant headaches.
Tonight, despite the fact I’d already strained the limits of my tolerance by going to the DuCaines’ ball, it seemed I would have to risk delving even further into the depths of my abilities.
Ignatius
, I thought fiercely.
Show me Ignatius
.
The images swirled around me, flickering like leaves in a storm wind. I searched them desperately, trying to find that arrogant face amongst the whirlwind. Other Blood came to me. The stark beauty of Adeline Louis and the cruel face of the late unlamented Lord Lucius. Not what I wanted to see at all.
And then, finally, another glimpse of Ignatius. I reached out my hand and grabbed at the image, drawing it closer in my mind.
Ignatius.
The images multiplied around, rising like a swarm of bees. Full of blood and horror. Ignatius standing over corpses, Ignatius feeding, fangs buried deep in the neck of a weeping woman. Ignatius laughing as someone was killed in front of him. Ignatius seated in a vast hall, in a chair that had to be called a throne while Beast and Fae knelt before him.
What the hell
?
I wrenched myself out of the vision, nerves screaming with the sharp pain of my resistance.
Fae kneeling to the Blood.
No.
Not possible. If that were a possible future, the City was in far worse trouble than I had suspected.
My heart pounded in my ears as the room reeled around me. I tasted bile and brandy in my throat and swallowed it back with an effort.
“What did you see?” Martin’s voice was eager in my ear. “What is it?”
I swallowed again, not sure I could speak without my voice shaking. “I didn’t see Simon DuCaine.” Fire rolled through my head, searing. Gods. I wanted the pain to stop. If I survived this night, I was going to see Saskia, find out if the effect of her touch had just been a coincidence.
Martin growled. “I don’t believe you, boy.”
I opened my eyes as the sick burning feeling in my head receded. Turned my head and stared at him. “I’m telling the truth.”
Chapter Three
S ASKIA
The morning came too soon. The hall maid knocked at my door at precisely half past six as I had requested. I’d had only a few hours’ sleep and they’d been uneasy, with the memory of that last touch of Fen’s hand on mine mixing with images of my brothers fighting and the City in uproar in my dreams.
In truth, it was a relief to be awake, even though my body tried to persuade me to stay where I was. Ignoring the siren song of more sleep, I climbed out of bed, groped for my robe, and stumbled the short distance across the room to the door. The steaming tea tray set neatly on the floor outside was a welcome sight. Even better, the smell wafting up from the china pot it held spoke of coffee, not tea. Thank fire.
I gulped down coffee in between bites of bread and jam. Not my usual breakfast, but nerves kindled sparks in my stomach as I’d known they would. I could eat more after the ceremony. Hopefully I would have something to celebrate by then.
After breakfast I dressed carefully, donning the best of my apprentice tunics, the one I kept for official occasions. Its earthy red was unmarred by burns or scald marks or chemical stains and it smelled like the soap used by the laundry instead of the faint scent of smoke and fire that usually permeated my clothes. With my hair braided behind my head and a clean black skirt, I looked respectable. Adult. Trustworthy.
Nervous
, I realized, studying the pale reflection in the mirror. I pinched my cheeks, not wanting to bother with cosmetics or glamours. There were enough opportunities to play with feminine things in my mother’s world, particularly now with Holly joining the family. Having the services of a very talented modiste at
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