“Don’t you think the world is better served by Dreadnought Stanton the mediocre credomancer than Dreadnought Stanton the very talented sangrimancer?” Mirabilis said at last. “Don’t you think there are enough Captain Cauls in the world as it is?”
“He couldn’t ever be like that,” Emily said.
“People can surprise you,” Mirabilis said. “And not always pleasantly.”
Emily stared at him, her eyes wells of horror. Mirabilis did not smile at her.
“The fact that you have developed a fondness for Mr. Stanton is abundantly clear. I wish to make it similarly clear that nurturing such fondness is a grave error. The blight he labors under is powerful. What is done cannot be undone. He is not for you, and he never can be.” Mirabilis frowned more deeply. “And if the boy had an ounce of decency, he would have made you understand that from the beginning.”
He clasped her solid hand, made a little bow over it. “Until tonight, then?”
And he walked off briskly, his footsteps echoing in the tall empty hall.
Damn him!
When Emily got to her room, she slammed the door behind her and began removing every single article of clothing Miss Pendennis had so carefully put her into. Her immaterial hand made this a tortuous process; buttons scattered and fabric ripped as she pulled at her garments angrily.
Damn Dreadnought Stanton!
She threw the dress in a heap on the floor, and piled the corset and the petticoats and the bustle and the chemise and all the other nonsensical pieces of effluvium on top. When she was finished, she climbed into bed stark naked but for the silk pouch she always wore. She curled herself up into a ball and pulled the blankets over her head.
Damn all Warlocks anyway!
She lay curled in the still whiteness of the bed, listening to her heart pounding against her ribs. Despite her best efforts to maintain a comforting shield of anger, it was crumbling beneath pain and confusion.
Why hadn’t he told her?
All those days and nights … everything that had passed between them. Everything they’d been through. And he’d never told her. Never told her he’d studied blood magic … never told her he’d planned to become a Maelstrom, just like that monster Caul … never told her he was dying … never told her anything about who he really was. And after all, why would he? One didn’t go around telling such personal and important things to the luggage.
Emily buried her head in her pillow, feeling acutely disappointed and embarrassed.
… if the boy had an ounce of decency, he would have made you understand that from the beginning …
How could she have let herself go and grow feelings for him? She was furious with her own stupidity. As if a few kisses meant anything. It was just a meaningless encounter, a by-product of the madness of sangrimancy. He didn’t want her. If he did, he would have told her. He wouldn’t have left such horrible explanations to strangers. He would have trusted her. Goddamn it, she had trusted him! She had trusted him, and he had trusted her with nothing.
Three times what thou givest.
So there it was, then. The final and most crushing of the retributions she’d earned. A silly, stupid broken heart. How perfectly appropriate. And to think that she’d done this to Dag, good, kind Dag …
She wished for Dag, suddenly. If she hadn’t felt close to him before, she certainly did now. She understood him, understood the agony of loving someone who didn’t love you back. She wanted to crawl into his arms and be soothed, and soothe him in return, and forget all the grand ideas she’d ever had about true love, and the necessity for it. Because true love was a load of baloney. Finding a good friend … a good friend who trusted you … was more than enough.
Mirabilis had said that everything would be all right after the Grand Symposium. With a little luck, she could start for home in a day or two. With a little luck, she’d never have to look at Dreadnought Stanton’s face again. She buried her face deeper in the pillow, trying to reconcile herself to the thought.
There was a soft knock at her door. Emily huddled deeper under the covers as the door opened.
“Miss Edwards?” Miss Pendennis’ voice from the door was puzzled. “My goodness, your clothes are all in a heap! Are you all right?”
“I have a terrible headache,” Emily said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d—”
“Certainly,” Miss Pendennis said. “I’ve got something