A Study in Ashes (90 page)

“An official appointment. It’s for both of us. He wants us to talk it over and let him know whether it suits us.”

“An official appointment?” She frowned, propping herself up on her elbow. “What is it?”

“I would rather you’d been there when he explained it,” Nick said apologetically.

“It’s all right. I was with Imogen all afternoon, and that’s exactly where I needed to be.”

He nodded. “It seems that Edmond sees trouble ahead.”

“Where from?”

“The Steam Council had allies and they aren’t pleased with the new order. He wants someone he trusts to look into this and that.”

“This and that?” Evelina asked dryly.

“The sort of enemies that might require a steamspinner packed with clever pirates and one very mighty sorceress to solve.”

Evelina looked away. As intriguing as the offer sounded, her failure to save Tobias still stung. “I feel less than mighty.”

“After all you did?” Nick asked gently. “You blew the bollocks off half the dirigibles in the Empire.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh. “At first I worried about being too strong and becoming a monster. And now I’m crushed because I wasn’t powerful enough to save a good friend. I should have saved Tobias, Nick. I should have …”

“Played with life and death?” Nick sat back, visibly working through his answer. “What more could you have done? All this means is that you’re still completely human. You don’t have every answer, Evelina. And if you still have something to learn, you have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

She bit her lip, releasing an unhappy breath. He was right,
of course—but that didn’t take the ache away. “Do you mind that I miss him?”

“I’d worry more if you didn’t.” He put a finger under her chin and kissed her forehead.

Tobias had possessed every advantage, and Nick nothing. The fact that he could be generous said a lot about who Nick was. “I love you.”

He gave the prince’s document a flick. “Fancy trying your hand at espionage?”

She settled back, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to give up being a pirate?”

“It would be no fun without the steam barons, and Edmond’s a nice enough bloke.”

“All right, then.”

Even though she didn’t look up, she could feel Nick’s grin. She’d guessed he wanted to do it. It was the sort of thing he was made for. She straightened up just enough that they were face-to-face. His dark eyes looked liquid in the low light, and Evelina felt that familiar melting sensation she got when she was with him. Any moment now, she would dissolve into a puddle just from wanting him so much.

“But none of it means anything unless you’re with me,” he said, picking up yet another piece of paper and dangling it in front of her face.

She took it and held it up to read. “A special license. For marriage. For us!”

“We will marry, you and I,” he said with a sly grin.

Evelina’s heart stopped. Suddenly, it felt as if she had no limbs, no body at all. The only part of her that remained was her stuttering, astonished pulse. She supposed it was natural, with more missions in their future, but somewhere along the way she’d lost all notion of something so normal as becoming a wife.

“Will we, Captain Niccolo?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She wasn’t even sure if the words were a challenge or squeak of surprise. “Shouldn’t that be framed as a question?”

His eyebrows quirked mischievously. “We’ll do it properly, in the eyes of the law, the Church, and any other rules
they can dream up. Then everyone will know we belong together.”

Evelina reeled. She wanted to marry him—of course she did! But there was the dark magic, and Magnus, and … Her thoughts trailed off. Nick’s energy was growing sharp as he waited for her to say something. Nick, who saw everything she was but still wanted her. More than that, he wanted her
because
of everything she was. He would keep her true to herself, but he would never hold her back.

“Well?” he asked, the word barely more than a movement of air.

Evelina closed her eyes.
He wants me to be his wife
. The sheer rightness of it melted her like chocolate—the dark, sweet, rich perfection of the moment made her sway with all the giddy girlishness she would have felt had Nick prostrated himself in full dress uniform on a ballroom floor. But a pirate was a pirate, and he had asked for her hand and her partnership on their next mission in the same breath. That made it real, part of his life and not some fantasy from the pages of a book—and that gave a pinch of spice to all that sweetness.

“Marry me, Evelina,” he asked giving her his best and most scorching gaze. “Please.”

She couldn’t bear to make him wait, however much she would have liked time to savor the moment.

“I will,” she said firmly. “I will be your wife.”

She heard his breath escape in a relieved huff. Had he really thought she would refuse him?
Ridiculous man
.

As he leaned in for a kiss, Evelina cradled the special license against her chest, suddenly anxious in case it was creased. “Careful with that.”

“You know I’m careful as a surgeon and just as precise.” And he kissed her urgently, pulling her close until she heard crinkling paper.

“Wait!” she squeaked, trying to rescue the license from getting squashed between them.

He lifted his head. “What?”

She gave him a crooked smile. “When shall we marry?”

Nick chuckled, a sound that rumbled from his chest through
her body in pleasant and interesting ways. “How soon can you find a dress?”

London, October 27, 1889
CAVENDISH SQUARE
2:35 a.m. Sunday

THE DOOR TO
the bedroom opened and Tobias slipped in silently, his shadow a tall grotesque playing along the wall. The curtain was open, and moonlight flooded the bedroom, falling softly on the cradle where Jeremy slept. He considered shutting out the light to make sure it didn’t wake his son, but then he wouldn’t have been able to see as well. He wasn’t one of the Wraiths, who could navigate in perfect blackness.

He gazed down at the boy, losing himself in relief. There wasn’t a mark on the baby’s perfectly smooth skin. Wherever Keating had hidden Jeremy and his nurse, the child had suffered no physical harm. That was something to be thankful for—as was the fact that the Gold King would never trouble them again.

Tobias reached down with his left hand and tucked the blanket close under his son’s chin. Peace seemed to radiate from the tiny form. That boneless, absolute rest was something Tobias would never feel again.
Sleep well and dream fair, little man
.

He heard the footfall in the doorway too late.

“What …?” It was Alice’s voice. He froze, suddenly uncertain what to do. It was the middle of the night, long after she should have been asleep. This wasn’t going according to plan.

His wife stood in the nursery door, clad only in her nightdress. She looked tiny and childlike, too young to be mother to the boy sleeping in the cradle. Tobias drew back a step, knowing he had no business being there. As far as the world above the streets was concerned, she was a widow. It was kinder if they all went on thinking it.

“Tobias!” Alice whispered, but it sounded loud in the darkened room.

He stepped away from the cradle, afraid that if he answered he would wake Jeremy. “Hush.”

She tilted her face up to him, the moonlight reflecting bright in her tear-filled eyes. Dazzled, Tobias searched for what to say.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

No, but I’m having a nightmare
.

“I saw you dead!” she said more firmly, and Jeremy stirred in his sleep.

He put a finger over her lips, feeling their petal-soft warmth. Her breath feathered over his skin. She retreated into the hallway, walking backward, never taking her eyes from him. He followed and closed the nursery door behind him. At once, he stepped into the shadows, instinct making him hide.

Her eyes were wide, and with a wrench of his heart, he saw fear there. But Alice raised her chin, hands closing into fists. “How is it even possible that you’re here?” She was no longer whispering, but her voice was low and angry. “Why didn’t you send a message that you were still alive?”

A message?
His brain rocked slightly. It sounded so … normal. “We can’t argue outside Mrs. Polwarren’s door.”

“She quit.” Alice bit the words off, her chin trembling.

The detail raked at him. Already things were happening in his home that he had no idea about—yet another piece of himself sliding away.

“Tobias, please!”

“I died,” he said, the words blunt and brutal.

She flinched. “But you’re here.”

He remained silent a moment, sifting through events he didn’t fully comprehend. In her struggle to save him, Evelina had bound him to the Black Kingdom, and that power had called his name when it needed another king. But how could he explain that to Alice? “The Wraiths found me and put me back together as best they could. I had no choice about it.”

No choice, and a lot of horror. Things he tried to forget as
he was reassembled, bit by bit in painful and intimate ways. But he gave the simple explanation, the one Alice required. She didn’t need to know how the poison had done its work, or the dragon’s teeth, and what couldn’t be reconstituted from blood and dirt and dragon. Even magic—the magic he hated—could only do so much. And the fact that he was more magic than human had bound him to the underground in ways beyond number.

The Wraiths were his now. He was the Black Kingdom’s master, but still it leashed him. He was too new yet to wander far, and it was already tugging at him, impatient for his return. But thank the dark powers that his wife didn’t see that. And that at first glance, he looked the same. She had already suffered too much. Perhaps he could convince her this was a dream after all.

“My father is dead,” Alice murmured. “Jeremy is all I have now.”

That was all she said, but he heard the anger and sorrow. Keating had deserved what he got at Evelina’s hands, but that would never stop his daughter from grieving his loss—strained though their love had been.
My poor Alice
.

A tendril of hair curled over her cheek, and Tobias reached out to brush it away. His right arm moved smoothly, but the faint whirr of gears gave it away, stopping just short of her face. He saw her look of surprise, and then … her recoil stabbed him to the core.

Alice started to tremble, her gaze sliding to the fingers hovering near her face. Her eyes widened as the truth soaked in. “Tobias?”

Not all of him was as it had been. And in that moment, he hated Evelina for condemning him to this. “I should have stayed dead.” He closed his eyes, his heart too full and aching to bear the sight of his wife. He wanted her with all the fervent need of a man for his woman, but there was so much more to it than that. He had found out too late what she meant to him.

He forced his eyes open, and maybe she saw the truth there, because she reached out—but he stepped beyond her grasp. If he was going to survive this, he had to harden his
heart. Otherwise, Alice would break it with her gentle touch. “I’m not what I was. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, and that doesn’t mean that I won’t watch over you and our son.”

She drew herself up. “Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t ask me to forget you.”

There was no chance he would forget her. His need for Alice had only been intensified by his ordeal. Every sense was new and more than humanly sharp. The smell and sight of his wife might have been familiar, but it was as if he had never truly noticed her fragility or the sweetness of her scent.

But wanting and having were not the same. He wasn’t what he had been—and it would be folly to forget that for even an instant. Without another word, he turned away from her, descending the stairs with the silence of a shadow.

“Tobias?” Alice cried.

Defiance flared in him. This was his house. He should have been able to stay. Part of him had been that dragon in the depths, and it didn’t take denial well. Whatever he was—maker, man, or monster—the Schoolmaster wasn’t the only new Royal in London and he meant to take back what was his. But then more of him knew that wouldn’t be simple, because everything was different now. He was different.

And so much around him needed to change, because London’s underground citizens were weary of languishing beneath the streets. There were possibilities in that discontent.

One day soon Tobias would return to the daylight world, but it would be on his own terms. When he had healed enough. When he was powerful enough. And he wouldn’t come alone.

“I am the Black King,” he said, his voice rough. “No one forgets me.”

London, November 2, 1889
221B BAKER STREET
11:55 p.m. Saturday

HOLMES STOOD ALONE IN THE BAKER STREET STUDY. WATSON
had already gone up the stairs to his bedroom, nearly stupefied with fatigue. War and cholera had taxed London’s hospitals to the breaking point, a bizarre counterpoint to the wild celebration of Prince Edmond’s victorious return. The horror and ecstasy were both real and both valid, and they were also both hell on one’s constitution.