11

The sheen of magic covered everything Dominic saw like frost. How much of it was from the fight and how much was normally there, he could not tell. Chunks of plaster and pieces of broken furniture littered the floor. He dropped to his knees beside Ardhuin’s unconscious form.

Her face was pale as marble, the lack of color even more noticeable since her fiery hair was now loose and framed it. For a terrible second he thought she was not breathing, then he saw her chest barely rise and fall. He took one hand in his, gasping when her dark gloves shattered into flakes of ash at his touch.

“Her hands are like ice,” he said, even more frightened than before. His heart was beating so hard and fast it felt as if it would jump into his mouth.

“Not surprising, given that an entire window has gone missing,” Markus said absently, searching the room cautiously.

Dominic glanced over to where the window had been. Draperies hung at a lopsided angle, one end wrenched loose. He jumped to his feet and pulled a section free, returning to tuck the fabric carefully around Ardhuin. His hands were shaking.

“Gott im Himmel.” That was Jens-Peter, for once unable to make a joke. “What happened? Who is she?”

“I think she used to be Herr Andrews, or he used to be her, or…something. It’s not quite clear,” Ermut said slowly, as if he were still figuring it out. “That is, I saw Herr Andrews fighting von Gerling, and then von Gerling escaped out the window, and then she was standing where Herr Andrews had been.”

Jens-Peter’s mouth hung open. He shut it and moaned, “I missed it?”

“I asked for discretion. I distinctly remember saying the words.” Markus Asgaya addressed the ceiling, arms outspread. “Where did I go wrong? Does this,” he said to the group gaping in the doorway, gesturing at the wreckage of the study, “look like discretion to you?”

“Not in the slightest.” Gutrune von Kitren stepped into the room, gracefully avoiding the debris on the floor. She was still holding her pistol. “In fact, you have attracted notice from the neighboring houses. They will be here soon.”

Jens-Peter, Stefan, and Ermut glanced respectfully at her weapon and edged slightly closer to the wall.

Dominic returned his attention to Ardhuin, only dimly registering the sound of voices around him. Jens-Peter was arguing about something, and Gutrune von Kitren was responding in a calm, reasonable tone. He took Ardhuin’s hands in his own, trying to warm them. What had happened to her? He hadn’t seen any attack from von Gerling when her illusion had vanished, or when she had collapsed.

“Ardhuin. Please wake up,” Dominic pleaded, his voice breaking. “You’re frightening me. Ardhuin.”

Still no response. Was it his imagination, or was her breathing more even now?

A scrap of torn wallpaper fluttered in an icy breeze that came from the shattered window. The floor was becoming quite cold. Dominic lifted Ardhuin’s shoulders, cradling her head against his chest while holding her close to give her what warmth he had. A strand of fire-red hair partially covered her face, and he brushed it away.

Moonlight. The scent of roses. Confusion, desperate need, his hands wrapped in thick, silky warmth….

Dominic snapped out of the sudden, overwhelming memory with a gasp. Ardhuin’s hair was not warm now, and his fear gave him unexpected strength.

Somehow he managed to stand, carrying her. The next room down the narrow corridor was a small dining room. It was warmer, but there was no place for Ardhuin to rest. The kitchen wouldn’t be any better, so he turned carefully to go back to the front parlor.

Markus was there without his illusion, dark and lithe. He was lighting one of the lamps, and talking to Gutrune. The students were gone.

“It’s gone too far to be concealed now. I was merely hoping to keep them out of it, if possible,” he said.

“But all of them?”

The lamp flared and glowed as the match caught, casting Markus’ face in planes of light and shadow. Dominic was suddenly reminded of an illustration he had seen of Loka, the Teuton god of trickery.

Markus shook his head. “Ermut Arendt felt it was his duty to report, and I could not persuade him otherwise. I only hope von Stangen—” He looked up and saw Dominic. “Where are you going? You don’t mean to leave us to explain what happened, do you?”

“It’s too cold in the study,” Dominic said, trying to ignore the sudden, hot spurt of irritation at Markus’ attempt at humor. “She will be more comfortable on the sofa.”

Markus came around the marble-topped table that held the lamp. “Here, let me help you.”

He reached for Ardhuin, and Dominic snapped. “Get away from her!” he shouted, clutching her even more tightly. She shifted with a small sigh, a promising sign he barely noticed through his rage.

Markus froze, then slowly and carefully moved back, his face without expression. Dominic breathed deeply, suddenly shaken. Over the rage came a cold wave of fear. What was wrong with him? Markus had never endangered Ardhuin, so why was he acting as if he were a threat?

It’s not her he’s a threat to, a small voice in his mind said slyly.

Dominic shook his head sharply, and with an effort lay Ardhuin on the green velvet sofa near the lamp. His arms ached, and his sudden strength deserted him. He dropped to his knees beside the sofa.

For a moment, his voice deserted him too. “Forgive me. She is…she is in need of a physician.”

A hand on his shoulder made him look up. Gutrune von Kitren was looking at him with compassion in her pale blue eyes. “The attendance of a physician would be wise, but the case is not desperate. Look, her color is better already. Do not take offense, Herr Kermarec, but your talents are needed elsewhere. We have but a few moments to search this place unencumbered, and Herr von Gerling will undoubtedly have magical protections about anything of importance.” Dominic hesitated, and she added softly, “I will remain with her and alert you if there are any unfavorable changes. Make haste. I was unable to stop von Gerling, and he might have allies in the Kriegsa still.”

Dominic got stiffly to his feet. “But I thought you shot him.”

Gutrune’s lips thinned. “He was only wounded.”

“Wounded? Where was he when you hit him?” Markus sounded eager.

Dominic thought Gutrune was as puzzled as he was. “He had just reached the opposite side of the street. Near the post box.”

Markus cast a quick, undecided look around the room, threw a sudden, bright bubble of magic that made Dominic twitch, and ran out the door.

Dominic exchanged a puzzled glance with Gutrune. “Start searching!” she whispered. There were voices outside, ones he did not recognize.

“He’s put some kind of triggered perimeter about us,” Dominic replied in similar low tones. “I don’t know what will happen if I cross it, and it’s hard to see anything through the magic there.”

Gutrune sighed. “It is to be hoped Herr Asgaya does not intend a lengthy errand. Is there anything you can do?”

Dominic walked to the edge of the bubble. It enclosed most of the end of the parlor, centered on the sofa. The walls were out of reach, but two brocade armchairs, a plant stand, and a small wooden cabinet with a glass front were inside.

He discovered that one of the armchairs was missing a spring, that the fern on the plant stand needed watering, and something was odd about the cabinet.

Dominic stared at it, wondering what had caught his eye. The cabinet couldn’t be hiding anything; the glass door showed the entire interior. The shelves held two carved meerschaum pipes, a delicate porcelain floral decoration with the inscription “Souvenir de la Parys,” two mismatched jet buttons, and a copy of a Baerlen racetrack schedule from the previous year. All of them completely devoid of magic.

He shook his head, then caught his breath. There it was again! Just a tiny glimmer, from the joint between the right front leg and the carved front of the bottom edge of the cabinet. The edge was quite deep, at least four inches.

Dominic pulled gently at the edge of the carving. To his surprise, it came out smoothly, revealing a simple drawer. Inside were some of the infamous Parysan postcards of cabaret dancers in various scandalous stages of undress and imaginative poses.

“Have you found anything?” asked Gutrune.

Dominic experienced a moment of pure panic. “Er, nothing of interest.” He stuffed the postcards back, hoping his shocked expression had not been noticed.

There it was again! Only this time the glimmer of magic was stronger, and underneath the last of the postcards. Dominic lifted them away. On the bottom of the drawer was a complex magical seal. Now that he was looking more carefully, the depth of the drawer did not match the depth of the piece of carving. There was a second hidden compartment.

Quick steps in the hallway made him look up sharply, but it was only Markus, returning with a bloodstained handkerchief held up like a trophy.

“Got it!” he said, grinning.

Dominic expected to feel irritation at the sight of him, but it was not as strong as before. Perhaps he was getting more accustomed. “What did you find?”

“His blood,” Markus said with satisfaction. “I had to hurry before the crowds trampled all over it. Why aren’t you looking in the study? That’s where he’d be more likely to hide something,” he told Dominic, carefully tucking the handkerchief away.

No, he was still irritated. “You cast a perimeter before you left. Don’t you remember?”

Markus made a sound of disbelief. “You could cross it, you know. It’s only set for anyone trying to get in.”

Dominic gritted his teeth. “That piece of information would have been very useful to know before you left. Besides, I found something.”

Eyebrows raised, Markus went over to the cabinet. He cast a very amused look at Dominic when he saw the postcards, and Dominic felt his face go hot.

“Not those. There’s a magical seal on a secret compartment underneath. It looks similar to the one I saw on the document packet from the Council. I think it is set to destroy the contents if the seal is not opened correctly.”

“The people from the neighboring quarters are remaining outside,” Gutrune observed calmly, her pistol in one hand as she checked Ardhuin’s pulse with the other. “Why is that?”

Markus grinned again, the glint of mischief strong in his eyes. “Perhaps they took to heart my offhand comments about needing to disable the many magical traps we’ve found,” he said. “And lo, I spoke the truth without knowing!”

“A common occurrence, I think,” muttered Dominic under his breath.

“It will not buy us much time. One of the brighter individuals will undoubtedly realize the Kriegszauberkollegium must have someone equally capable of dealing with traps, and send for them. Describe this seal to me,” he said, looking at Dominic.

His amused, mocking manner was gone. Markus Asgaya was all business dealing with the magical seal, asking precise, knowledgeable questions. Despite himself, Dominic felt a grudging respect. It was very different from working with Ardhuin. Markus was slower, making it easier for Dominic to see the separate steps involved. Ardhuin’s fluid style was more impressive, but this was still interesting.

“Ah, that should do it. Is it engaged?” Markus asked. Dominic checked. All the overlayers were precisely matched to the ones on the seal, and he nodded.

He blinked at the flare of bright magic released by the seal. Apparently even Markus had sensed something, for he whistled.

“That would have been nasty. Now, let’s see what we have here.” Markus delicately lifted the false bottom out of place and reached inside. “Looks like letters. So why the elaborate concealment? Hmm.” Only the pages had been preserved; the covers were missing. Markus skimmed one, and suddenly sucked in his breath.

“What is it?” Dominic asked, seeing his frozen expression.

“Oh, merely a scandal of monumental proportions,” Markus said in a faint voice. “Herr von Gerling appears to be having a most imprudent affair with a certain well-connected woman.” He tucked the letters in an inner pocket of his coat, shuddering.

“Why are you so shocked?” Dominic asked. “I had not thought your morality so strict.”

“Oh, it isn’t,” Markus agreed without offense. “Court scandal usually amuses me, but this…no one would benefit if this came to light. Her husband is vindictive and powerful. The King’s interests,” he said carefully, “would be badly hurt if this were known.”

Gutrune looked up from her station by the sofa. “I exist to serve.”

“I dare not, forgive me. Even you should not know.” Markus appeared genuinely distressed. “I should not know. These should go directly to the King or into the fire.”

“Seal them in a packet, and I will deliver them to the King. You cannot do it yourself without attracting notice,” Gutrune pointed out, stepping closer. “Decide quickly. I believe they have decided to enter despite the danger.” Her gaze alighted on the highly improper postcards, and her eyebrows went up.

Dominic and Markus both made a desperate effort to conceal them, but it was too late. Gutrune gave them an enigmatic look, then commented, “An excellent decoy. Anyone searching would assume the pictures were the only items concealed. I am surprised, though, that some are of quite recent date. I do not think Herr von Gerling was granted permission to travel, considering the current situation.”

“I cannot believe that you are conversant with this type of thing,” Markus said, his eyes wide with shock. Dominic was equally dumbfounded.

A small smile curved the corner of Gutrune’s lips. “I have seen one of these dancers before. The one with the fan,” she said blandly. One of the cards did feature a picture of a dancer with a fan—and no other concealment for her charms. “She was more warmly dressed when I had occasion to see her, on her debut three months ago at the Chien Vert cabaret in Parys. Also, I believe I saw the name Trezabel on another. That establishment, I am informed, opened its doors a mere five weeks ago.”

She turned her head to the entrance. The sound of feet stumbling over pieces of broken door could be clearly heard. “They are coming in. Go to the study—I will attempt to delay them.”

Markus quickly closed the hidden compartment and left the parlor. Dominic followed, dazed by all the sudden revelations. Gutrune had been right about one thing, though. Ardhuin was looking better.

The wash of magic over the chilly study was beginning to fade, fortunately. Dominic started searching, while Markus took the scandalous letters and folded them in a sheet of paper. Dominic saw magic as well as molten wax go into the seal.

“What luck?” Markus asked, tucking the packet back in his inner pocket.

“You have decided to give them to her?” Dominic asked.

Markus scowled. “She’s right, damn her. I have no choice. They are too dangerous. Well?”

“Avoidance spell on the bookend that looks like a gargoyle. Sloppy stasis lock on the second drawer of the big bookcase. Something hit the corner of the desk; I can’t see anything past that. Pieces of glass with magic, but that’s from the fight.”

He could hear voices from the shattered window as he continued to point out magic to Markus. They should conceal their presence as long as possible. They were lucky that the study window did not front the street, but it would probably be wise to draw the one remaining drape to hide the light.

Dominic went to the window, kicking aside the larger globes of glass from his path. A folded paper was lodged between the drape and the sill, and he picked it up. Leaning out, he saw two other papers, one torn, on the flagstones outside. Carefully avoiding the glass remaining in the frame, he eased himself out the window and dropped to the ground.

“What on earth are you doing?” hissed Markus. “They are coming!”

“Looks like he dropped them,” Dominic said softly, holding the papers in his hand. Seeing the door to the study open behind Markus, he whispered, “I’ll come in the front! Be surprised!”

He dropped down out of sight, waiting for a clear chance to leave the side alley and get back inside unobserved. Behind him, he heard Markus dealing with the Kriegszauberkollegium officials. Creeping away, he realized it was a very good thing that Markus Asgaya was an accomplished liar.

Someone was beating on her head with padded mallets. Ardhuin wished they would stop. The sensations became a little more distinct, and she realized they were voices, not mallets, but they still made her head throb. She moaned and tried to wrap her head in her arms, but something was making it hard to move them.

“Do you need anything?” It was like being hit with a pillow. This voice was low and much quieter than the others, but it was so close it seemed her whole body vibrated. Ardhuin opened her eyes. Gutrune von Kitren looked down at her, and the ceiling behind her swirled in a way that made Ardhuin’s eyes twist. She shut them again.

“So…loud…” Ardhuin managed, her head aching anew with her own voice.

She felt a firm, strong grip on her hand that released, followed by a cloud of rustling noises. Somewhere in the distance Gutrune spoke, and was answered by chastened booming voices that faded and then disappeared. The relief of silence was so great it brought tears to her eyes.

Rustling and a cool hand on her forehead told her Gutrune had returned. “Do you feel able to sit up?” she asked, so softly it didn’t even hurt. Ardhuin nodded, surprised that her head didn’t fall off. It did swim unpleasantly, though, and a cloud of dust made her sneeze. It sounded like a cannon going off.

She drank the water Gutrune put to her lips, which helped with the dust. After a moment she dared to open her eyes. “What happened?” she croaked.

Gutrune gave her a quick summary, apologizing for being unable to stop von Gerling. “At present we have officers of the Kriegszauberkollegium investigating with Herr Asgaya and Herr Kermarec,” she added. A certain restraint in her voice told Ardhuin there was more to the story.

“Dominic…Herr Kermarec is unharmed?”

“Yes. You are the only one who has suffered any ill effects. He was quite concerned for you.”

Again that slight restraint in Gutrune’s voice.

“Is something wrong?”

Gutrune hesitated. “He did not approve of Herr Asgaya’s attempt to assist you,” she said. “You should be aware—we have not told the officials anything about you, merely indicating you were attacked by von Gerling. They have not asked any awkward questions yet, but they will if given the chance. Do you think you can stand?”

Her head felt much better now, but attempting to stand brought on another severe dizzy spell. If Gutrune had not been there, she would have fallen.

“No matter; you must rest until you feel more able.” Gutrune took a seat in a chair nearby, taking her pistol from the table and tucking it into her fur muff.

Ardhuin frowned. Little memories were coming back.

“Do you remember what Markus Asgaya said to you, when you first showed him that?” she asked.

Gutrune looked at her inquiringly. “Why, yes. It seemed an unusual thing for him to say.”

“That’s because it wasn’t him,” Ardhuin said, feeling awkward. “I mean, it’s a saying. Among the Yunwiyans, “treasure of the nation” is another way to refer to a woman warrior. They have them, you know, and they are held in the highest esteem. Any Yunwiyan man would be proud to marry one,” she said, her voice trailing off uncomfortably. “I just…thought you should know.”

It was impossible to tell what Gutrune’s reaction to this piece of information was. Her expression remained one of calm politeness as she gravely thanked Ardhuin, then asked if she was feeling better.

“I think so,” Ardhuin said cautiously. The dizziness had abated, certainly. She tugged at the swath of heavy fabric surrounding her, releasing a cloud of dust. She sneezed, her head throbbing again, and looked more closely at what she was wrapped in. “Why a curtain?” she managed when she could talk again. A lock of hair fell free over her forehead. She reached up. As she feared, her hair was half undone. She must look like she had been dragged backwards through a thicket.

“Herr Kermarec was concerned that you were not warm enough. The curtain, I believe, was already torn down during—” Gutrune stopped. Another group of people had entered, one of whom Ardhuin recognized. Ermut Arendt.

“I am glad to see you are better,” he said, coming forward and giving a polite bow. Ardhuin tried not to wince at his voice. It was also depressing to see him treat her with such formal courtesy, after his easy friendliness at the party.

Ardhuin was painfully aware of her disheveled appearance, wrapped in a dusty curtain. Of course she could not be as friendly and relaxed as when she was hiding behind an illusion, and she stammered a greeting. Then it occurred to her that Ermut himself seemed more than a little confused and off-balance. The other men with him continued down the hall, ignoring the two women as unimportant.

“I should apologize for imposing on your friends as I did,” Ardhuin said, as loudly as she could without making her head pound, “but it was the most agreeable part of the evening.”

Ermut smiled and relaxed a little. “The illusion on you was completely convincing,” he said. “As was the one on the schutzmagus. I was going to ask him—but it occurred to me, having seen—” he waved in the direction of the study, “perhaps you are the correct person to ask.” He took out a small photograph. “Can you tell me why he was illusioned to look like this man?”

Ardhuin took the photograph. It was, in fact, the eager young magician she had seen at the Kriegszauberkollegium. “No particular reason, save that it is easier to cast that level of illusion using a model instead of imagination.” There, she had been truthful without admitting anything. “Why do you ask?”

Ermut looked uncomfortable again. “He was the one I mentioned, the friend of Hans. He was killed in a duel earlier today.”

Ardhuin froze, suddenly making some disturbing connections. Hans’ friend, the one killed, was a Kriegsa magician. Von Gerling had not shown any suspicion until he saw Markus, illusioned as the dead man. When he did, he panicked.

Why? Von Gerling must have known about the duel and expected a certain person to die—and if that person hadn’t died, then he knew something von Gerling desperately wanted to keep secret.

“Fraülein….” Ermut still had something on his mind.

“Andrews.” Ardhuin smiled at him, feeling tired. “That much was true.”

“Good, it will save me learning another name.” His answering smile was perfunctory. “I must ask. How did you do it? I could never fight von Gerling and win…and he ran from you. I think…I think the illusion was yours, too. It only vanished when you were on the point of collapse.”

Gutrune had stiffened in her chair, but there was nothing she could say to undo the damage. Ermut was a magician, and confident in what he had seen. Fortunately, he was the only one who had.

Ardhuin twisted her hands together, wondering what to do. “Women don’t do magic. Everyone knows this.”

“But—”

“It is a matter of grave importance that this impression is not corrected in Fraülein Andrews’ case,” Gutrune said quietly. “State importance.”

Ermut looked at her, then at the jeweled eagle pin on her pelisse. His eyes widened. “I see. I will say nothing. The schutzmagus…?”

“He knows.”

“Ah.” Ermut scratched his head. “May I be of help in any way? It would be a privilege, and if you—” he stopped and corrected himself carefully, “if a mage needed temporary magical assistance while recovering from the kraftdampung, I would be glad to provide it.”

“The…kraft-what?” Ardhuin asked. He’d called her a mage. What did he mean by that?

“Kraftdampung. It can happen when a mage overextends his abilities, but usually only in the heat of battle. There is a collapse, then, and limited power for a period of time. If done to extremes,” Ermut said, looking serious, “it can kill. All war magicians are warned of this, from the beginning of their training.”

Well. Useful information, Ardhuin supposed, not that it would have changed much if she had known.

“Is there any way to treat this condition?” she asked.

“I have heard that milk can help,” Ermut offered.

It was very late by the time Ardhuin, Dominic, and Markus returned to the Imperial Palace in a carriage borrowed from the Kriegszauberkollegium. Ardhuin wasn’t completely certain because of her limited Preusan, but it appeared the Council had changed its attitude regarding her presence. Presumably von Gerling had left enough incriminating evidence to convince the officials of his guilt in something. She wished she knew what.

Perhaps it had something to do with the packet Markus had slipped to Gutrune, which she immediately tucked into her muff. Markus had made sure none of the Kriegsa magicians were in sight before he did, though. Gutrune had left when they did, but alone, to complete her mysterious errand with Stoller and the lamplighter’s cart.

So tired. It was hard to think, to concentrate. Maybe the milk would help with that, if she could get some. She didn’t like milk. Ardhuin frowned with the effort of remembering. Had Ermut said to drink it?

“Ardhuin. We’re here.” Dominic had a worried expression on his face, and she struggled to appear awake and alert. “Can you get out without assistance?”

She could, just barely. For the rest, however, she had to lean rather heavily on Dominic. “I am sorry,” Ardhuin gasped, stopping to catch her breath. “There are too many grand staircases for me right now.” Fortunately, it was past three o’clock, and only the palace guards were in evidence.

“Would you like to rest?” Dominic asked, laying a hand on her arm.

Ardhuin studied the path remaining. Red figured carpeting extended up another flight, and then there was a hallway before reaching their wing. She could do that, couldn’t she?

“Standing is tiring also,” she said, sighing. “I just want to get to my room and sleep.”

“If need be, we can carry you,” Markus said cheerfully, flicking a glance at Dominic.

She felt Dominic’s grasp tighten and his whole body stiffen. “No doubt,” Dominic said, his voice cold and unenthusiastic. Markus appeared amused.

Ardhuin sighed. The last thing she needed was more mysteries. Her head hurt. She started wearily up the last flight of stairs.

“I know you are very tired, but there is something I need to tell you. In your workroom,” Dominic said softly. Ardhuin started to object, but she recognized the stubborn look in his eyes. It would take effort to argue with him—easier to agree and get it over with.

Slowly, slowly down the hall. There was the door to the workroom. Ardhuin turned once they reached it.

“There is one last thing,” she told Markus. “It won’t take long.” If Dominic’s message was too lengthy, she would just fall asleep there. Her problem would be taken care of.

Markus hesitated. “Are you sure that’s wise?” He looked at Dominic. “You will try to prevent her from overexertion, won’t you? I must write up what we have found for the Council, so I will leave you here.”

“Finally,” muttered Dominic as they stepped through the wards.

“You seem annoyed with him,” Ardhuin ventured, gratefully sinking down on the sofa inside. “Has he offended you?”

“Offended? Well, I suppose not,” Dominic admitted. “I find his habit of smirking at you and making snide comments to me tiresome, that’s all. Everything is a joke to him. I am concerned he is trying to amuse himself with you as well.”

It was strange how the sudden understanding flooded her mind, how it felt as if she had always known. Dominic was jealous of Markus.

Because of her.

It didn’t make any sense, but then wasn’t that one of the most noticeable things about love? At least, that’s what she had observed in all the stories. It didn’t make any sense that Dominic would be in love with her, either, but why else would he be acting as he had been?

She had to say something. Her mother would have known exactly the right thing to reassure him.

“That’s simply his nature, I think,” Ardhuin said, hoping her voice didn’t wobble too much. “He’s not making fun of you, or…or me to be cruel. He’s just teasing. My brothers are the same way—well, maybe not Chris, but even he does it sometimes,” she stopped, realizing she was babbling. “They only do it to people they really like.” Ardhuin winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Now Dominic would take what she had said as proof of intent on the part of Markus.

Instead, Dominic looked thoughtful. “He reminds you of your brothers? What a trial that must have been. And I think you said you had three of them, too.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you are right, but I do not think he regards you in light of a sister. He is entirely too friendly for that.”

“The novelty of my magic, perhaps, combined with my familiarity with Yunwiya. Truly, I believe his…his interest lies elsewhere,” Ardhuin said, thinking of Gutrune. That made no sense either, except that Markus clearly loved a challenge. It might be interesting to watch, at least from a safe distance.

Dominic brightened. “Really?”

“Really,” Ardhuin said, smothering a laugh. She felt as if little bubbles of happiness were flowing through her. “Now what is it that you had to tell me?”

His face grew serious. “At the party…Mauer’s roommate had a large piece of chryselectrum from a bad batch. His uncle makes it or something like that. Jochim Weiskopf found it, and was looking through it. He saw you—without your illusion.”

“What? That’s impossible.” Iron could distort an illusion, and a more powerful magical field could overpower it, but nothing she knew of could see through it, leaving the illusion intact.

Dominic shook his head. “He said he saw a lady, and you were the only one there. Fortunately, he was quite drunk and nobody took him seriously. I looked through it too. You appeared in your real form, only slightly shadowed. What if someone else knows about this?”

“Hmm. I suspect this may be a property only of the flawed chryselectrum, possibly unique to that piece. Really, Dominic, it is used so often with higher-level magic it would be remarkable if no one else had noticed.”

Dominic looked unconvinced. “I need some chryselectrum to check. Where are the channels you didn’t use for the ward?”

Ardhuin pointed to the cabinet. He opened it and brought out the case with the remaining channels in it, removing an angular piece splayed like a tripod.

“No good—I can’t see anything; it’s too narrow.” He examined the contents again. “This should be better.”

It was an oval, slightly concave. “You are right—I can’t see anything at all through this. It’s like a mirror—”

Dominic’s face was a pale mask of horror.

“What’s wrong?” Ardhuin felt her heart start to pound.

“I felt something, but I didn’t know he had done anything…what is it making me do?” he whispered.

“What? Who did this? What are you talking about?” Ardhuin got painfully to her feet. Was Dominic still obsessing about Markus Asgaya?

He stared at her. “Von Gerling, in the fight. He put a geas on me. I can see it.”

There was no air in her lungs, no strength in her legs. She sat down hard, a voice screaming in her mind. Not now. Please not now. He is going to ask questions, you know he is. And you still do not know how to lie.

“He did not put a geas on you,” a calm, distant voice said. It seemed to be her own. “You must touch the person to set it, and he never touched you. Besides, with your training you would know if something like that had been done.”

“But—” Dominic rubbed his hand frantically through his black hair. “I can see it.”

Maybe she could avoid it a little longer. “How do you know it is a geas?”

“It looks like what the prisoner had. It is not exactly the same, but very close.”

No, it was over. She had to tell him; she had been intending to anyway. Now she knew she had been avoiding it because there would be no happy ending to this story. He knew what geasi could do now, and he would know she had cast one. On him. It was not possible he could forgive her.

“That must be why I was acting so strangely,” Dominic added, looking dazed. “I don’t understand. If I would have known it was done to me when it was cast, who did it? What does it do?”

Say it. Get it over with. She was so tired.

Ardhuin took a deep breath. “It was done before you were trained to see magic, so you noticed something but didn’t understand what had happened. And all it does,” she forced herself to say the words, “is prevent you from telling anyone about my roses.”

The silence lengthened, spread through the room. Ardhuin looked down at her clenched hands and waited for the explosion.

“You did this.” His voice was only a whisper. Ardhuin nodded, not daring to look at him. “Why?”

She could hear the pain; it echoed her own. “Because I was being attacked. Because you walked through my defenses as if they weren’t there. Because you saw the roses of Oron, that no other mage has been able to duplicate, that would tell my enemies they had found me. Because I was afraid.”

“But why haven’t you removed it? Don’t you trust me?”

This was not the explosion she had been expecting. Ardhuin looked up at him. “Of course I trust you!” she blurted. “You wouldn’t be in here if I didn’t.”

He gave her a look. “You can’t set a geas for that?”

Ardhuin shook her head. “A geas can’t make someone trustworthy, and it can’t change what they think or believe. It only affects outward actions, like talking, or avoiding a certain place, or…or firing a gun, like the anarchist did. He had no objection to shooting the King. All the geas did was make him do it at a certain time and place.” Dominic still looked skeptical, and worried. “Look. The more a geas goes against someone’s convictions, the harder it is to set. Also, it is obvious they are under constraint.”

“But you didn’t take it off.”

“I couldn’t! By the time I knew I could trust you, you had learned enough of your gift to be able to tell I was doing something to you. I was afraid you would be angry if you found out. I was afraid,” Ardhuin said, her throat so tight she could barely speak, “that you would leave.” She dropped her head to her knees, wrapping her arms around them.

“Ardhuin….”

She refused to raise her head. It hurt too much already, and if she had to look at him when he spoke it would hurt more. She heard footsteps, the sounds of him before her. His hands touched hers and she started, but he grasped her wrists and did not let go.

“Remove it. Now.”

At this, she did look up. He was crouched in front of her, his expression grim.

“You would let me? After I—”

His mouth twisted. “Who better?” Dominic closed his eyes. “I remember noticing you were frightened, and wondering why. I think…just remove it. Then I will know what I think.”

The question was, could she? It was trivial compared to setting it; hardly any power was used. In her current condition, however, it still might be too much.

Ermut Arendt had warned of the dangers of overtaxing her magic. Well, did it matter if it did kill her? Right now life did not hold much attraction.

She raised her hands to his head; his grip shifted but did not loosen. Ardhuin fought to keep from crying as soon as her fingers touched his face, realizing she had lost what she only now realized she had. The planes of his face, the angled cheekbones, were even more sharply delineated by pain, and seeing that, her eyes welled up. She had hurt him. The only thing she could do now was set him free.

First, the resonance. As soon as she tried to summon power, pain flared through her as if her blood had turned to fire. She gasped, lost the thread of the resonance, then gritted her teeth and forced it back.

Her hands shook with the strain; tears flowed freely down her face. Just a little more, a small counter-resonance that would break the pattern and set him free. The agony was a white-hot roar in her mind.

A quick pulse was all that was needed to break the geas. She felt it dissolve under her hands.

“It’s gone.”

Dominic did not shift his position, did not release her hands. Then, slowly, he lowered them and stared at her. His dark eyes looked haunted.

“I don’t feel any different.”

“It was just for the roses,” Ardhuin whispered. “I’m sorry, Dominic.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he suddenly leaned forward, gave her a hard, passionate kiss, and got up and left the workroom without saying a word.

Ardhuin found she lacked the strength to even stand, but doing magic hadn’t killed her after all. She wondered if that was a good thing.