Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,33

and wondered if he was really as happy as the magazines suggested. The magazine coverage didn’t fit with the Josh she knew. Did all those beautiful women love sci-fi films and books like he did? Had he opened up to them in the way he’d opened up to her? And what about his course? The pictures gave the impression of him being a London playboy – had he abandoned Manchester altogether?

Cathy stared at the new phone on the table in front of her. She knew his mobile number off by heart. She even picked it up, thumb poised over the keys, but she kept stopping herself. What would she say? And she still hadn’t found a way to stay hidden yet, or protect him from the repercussions of her flight.

And there was the new curse. When she was with Josh her father’s curse had made it impossible for her to undress near him. Now the Iris curse would make it impossible for them to even hold hands. Or kiss.

Just let him go.

The thought cut through the emotional mess and filled her with a sense of relief. Josh had moved on. Of course he had, why wouldn’t he, especially with all those women to choose from? He probably didn’t even remember her, and if he did it was probably the awful things she said to him just before that stupid wish.

The relationship she had with Josh had to be re-framed as something wonderful she once had but was now over, instead of something that was waiting to be rekindled if she could navigate the various obstacles between them. Besides, he’d be better off without her.

Cathy cupped her hands around the mug and blew across the top, watching the ripples on the surface of the hot chocolate. Hankering for an old love wasn’t going to do her any good. She needed to focus on what she could do right now and what she could work towards whilst finding a route out.

She’d been so busy thinking about getting out and finding Josh that she’d lost sight of why she ran away in the first place. She didn’t engineer an escape from life in the Nether so she could watch films, read comics and snuggle on the sofa with a fellow geek. And it wasn’t just to find freedom – even though that was a big part of it. No, she’d wanted to find a way to make the best use of her mind, the best way to fulfil the potential that Miss Rainer’s lessons had unlocked. The dreams of standing up for those without a voice and making all the difference to their lives had been lost in the panic and the upset and the wrench back into the Nether. There was no way she was going to sit around like bloody Rapunzel hoping that someone would come along and carry her off into Mundanus to resume her studies and pass all those exams. She already knew the mundane path towards fulfilment, impossible in the Nether with all the interference of the Fae and the patriarchal death-grip of the Patroons. It was just a matter of pursuing it.

The wedding ring chinked against the cup and reminded her of the marriage. Short of chopping her own finger off she couldn’t remove it and the curse was offensive as hell but neither stopped her from resuming her studies. Would Will stop her if he knew what she wanted to do? She didn’t know him well enough to predict whether it would be safe to tell him. He’d helped at the party in Aquae Sulis, when she really needed an ally, but that was to save her uncle. Caution was probably the best option whilst she got to know him.

7

Cornelius Alba-Rosa took the stairs two at a time. He knocked on his sister’s bedroom door, two quick raps then two slow ones.

“Come in,” Amelia called.

She was seated at the dressing table, wearing one of her favourite dusky-pink brocade gowns, her dark-brown hair arranged in the style of a classical Greek beauty. Jewellery was strewn on the table and she was holding up a necklace against her throat.

“Hello, darling,” she said. When she saw his reflection she twisted round, dropping the necklace into her lap. “What is it?”

“The Agency found Uncle Alfred.”

She struggled not to weep. “How?”

“They intercepted a message, bribed a servant, I don’t know. But that’s the third Rosa in two days. I’m starting to wonder whether they’re spying on us. I know Uncle Alfred