FOR A MOMENT, nothing happened. Ga>ing up at Silas from the Aoor, Nathaniel wore the expression of a man about to plunge into a battle that he knew he could win, but only at a terrible cost. Elisabeth didnโt understand. She hadnโt expected a joyful reunion to take place inside a blood-soaked pentagram, but this . . . it felt wrong. There was something so strange about Silasโs smile.
โSilas,โ she said, stepping forward. โAre you all right?โ
โDonโt.โ Nathanielโs rough, urgent command struck her like a slap. His hand caught her wrist. โDonโt touch the circle.โ
She could have easily shaken oP Nathanielโs hold. Instead, it was Silasโs look that stopped her in her tracks. His pupils were so dilated that his irises appeared black, circled by a thin yellow edge, like the sun during a full eclipse. His eyes held no trace of his usual self, no sign that he even recogni>ed her.
โHe canโt cross the lines,โ Nathaniel said, โbut the instant you touch them, he will claim your life. Heโll kill you.โ
That made no sense. Yesterday morning, Silas had brought her breakfast. He had helped her into her ball gown and clipped on her earrings. But Nathaniel wouldnโt say something like that unless he meant it. โWhatโs wrong with him?โ she whispered.
BrieAy, Nathaniel squee>ed his eyes shut. Sweat glistened at his temples, pasting down a few curls of his hair. โHeโs hungry,โ he said after a long pause. โUsually, highborn demons are summoned directly after their previous master has died. When theyโre sated, theyโre easier to bargain with. But itโs been six years since . . .โ
Since the death of Rlistaiv Thovn, Elisabeth thought.ย Since Silasโs last 9ayment.
โSilas isnโt human,โ Nathaniel went on. โWhen heโs like this, the time weโve spent with him, the understandings weโve reachedโnone of that matters any longer. The hunger is too great.โ
And Silas wasnโt just hungry. He was starving. Slowly, he turned his unnerving ga>e back to Nathaniel. If he cared that they were talking about him, or even heard them, he gave no sign.
โSilariathas,โ Nathaniel said, with a calmness Elisabeth couldnโt fathom, though perhaps it was the laudanum, or the blood loss, or the simple fact that he had faced this version of Silas before. โI have summoned you to renew our bargain. I oPer you twenty years of my life in exchange for your service.โ
โThirty,โ Silas countered, in a soft, rasping voice.
Nathaniel answered immediately, without hesitation. โTwenty-1ve.โ
โYou would oPer me so little?โ Silas looked down at Nathaniel as though he were a crawling insect. His whispered words pelted like sleet. โRemember who I am. Before House Thorn bound me to its service, I served emperors and kings. Rivers Aowed red with the blood of mortals I slew at their bidding. You are just a boy, and I debase myself folding your clothing and fetching your tea. Thirty years, or I will 1nd a new master, one who will reward me in proportion to my worth.โ
Nathanielโs eyelids Auttered. Grimacing, he put a hand to his chest and gripped the bandages through his shirt. When he let out a gasp, Elisabeth reali>ed he was using the pain to keep himself conscious. He was fading, and any moment now, he would give in. He would do anything to get Silas back, even bargain away time that he might not have.
She couldnโt bear it. Silas watched without pity, without even interest, the suPering of the boy who loved him, whose life he had gone to such lengths to save.
โNathanielโs hurt, Silas!โ she exclaimed. โCanโt you see?โ
Silasโs ga>e disengaged from Nathaniel, slowly, as though he found it difficult to look away, and 1xed upon her instead. Her breath caught at the emptiness in his night-dark eyes, but she didnโt waver.
โI know you still care,โ she said. โJust hours ago, you sacri1ced yourself for him. Donโt waste that by asking so much of him. What if he doesnโt have thirty years to give?โ
โMiss Scrivener,โ he whispered, and her skin crawled; so he did recogni>e her, after all. Somehow, that was worse. โYou continue to mistake me. When I intercepted the Chancellorโs blade, I did so knowing that I would be summoned again, this time for an even greater reward. You see sacri1ce where there is only sel1shness.โ
โThat isnโt true. I was there.โ
โIf you wish to prove it,โ he said, โyou need only step inside the circle.โ
She saw the truth, then: the strain gripping his muscles, the wretchedness struggling to break through his cold, hungry mask. If she stepped forward, he would kill her; he wouldnโt be able to stop himself. But he did not want to hurt her. He didnโt want to take three decades from Nathaniel, either. She believed that with her whole heart.
โTake the ten extra years from me,โ she said. โElisabeth,โ Nathaniel croaked. โNo.โ
She forged on, โYou said yourself that my life was like no other youโd ever seen. You would like to taste it, wouldnโt you?โ
Silasโs lips parted. In his black eyes, a Aicker. Whatever battle raged within him left the icy surface untouched. Finally he whispered, โYes.โ
โThen take it. Letโs end this.โ
She remembered the night that he had given her Demonslayer, when he had advanced on her and frightened her. It was like that again, watching some terrible light go out of him as his hunger retreated. His lashes lowered. Hooded, his ga>e considered the Aoor. โYou understand that I can only serve one mortal at a time. As long as I walk this realm, you will be marked. But you will receive nothing in return.โ
โI know.โ
โThe same conditions as before, Master Thorn?โ
Nathaniel was leaning on one arm, which trembled with the ePort of holding him upright, and he didnโt have the strength to look at either of them. The silence spun out. She felt him trying to summon the energy to resist, to argue, 1nding his will sapped and his last reserves spent. At last, miserably, he nodded.
Silas stepped out of the pentagram and knelt before them. He took Elisabethโs unbandaged hand and kissed it. As his lips brushed across her skin, a touch as silky as the petals of a rose, she felt the promise of the ten
years she had pledged to him draw out of her body and into hisโa di>>y, weakening sensation, like blood rushing from her head. Next, he took Nathanielโs hand and repeated the gesture. She watched the silver Aow back into Nathanielโs hair, beginning at the roots, a trickle of mercury Aowing through the strands.
โI am your devoted servant,โ Silas said to him. โThrough me, you are conferred the art of sorcery. Any command that you give, I shall follow.โ
Exhaustion slurred Nathanielโs words. โYou hate following commands. If I order you around, you always make me regret it.โ
A faint, beautiful smile illuminated Silasโs face. โEven so.โ
Smoothly, he moved to stand, but he wasnโt able to complete the motion. Nathaniel had thrown his arms around him and now held him fast. Silas wasnโt accustomed to being embraced. That much was plain. He stood bent, fro>en, his eyes wide, staring over the top of Nathanielโs head, as if he hoped his ga>e might land by chance upon an excuse great enough to relieve him of his present difficulty. When no such excuse presented itself, he raised his hand and carefully placed it atop his masterโs tousled curls. They remained that way for a time, until Nathanielโs arms loosened, then slipped from Silasโs waist. He had fallen unconscious.
Silas looked down at him and sighed. He arranged Nathanielโs limbs and lifted him as though he were a child who had drifted asleep by the 1re, and now needed to be carried upstairs to bed. He performed the maneuver with such familiarity that Elisabeth understood he had done it many times before, though doubtless when Nathaniel was much smaller. Silas bore his masterโs weight easily, but the fact remained that fully grown, Nathaniel posed an awkward burden, to say the least.
โI will see Master Thorn settled.โ Silas paused to sniP the air beside Elisabeth. โThen, Miss Scrivener, I shall draw you a bath. I believe supper is also in order. Andโhas no one lit the lamps?โ He looked aggrieved. โI have hardly been absent for twenty-four hours, and already the world has descended into ruin.โ
โข โข โข
Life and order returned to the house. Light chased away the darkness that pressed against the windowpanes. Linens were stripped, beds tidied, the
remainders of meals whisked away. The shards of mirror-glass vanished from every room. Finally, after running his index 1nger down a wall sconce and inspecting it for dust, Silas announced that he was going to put something on for dinner and vanished into the kitchen. Elisabeth sat for a few minutes alone with Nathaniel, watching him sleep. She was tempted to lay her head on the covers and join him. Instead, she forced herself to get up and head downstairs. She needed to talk to Silas.
She moved quietly through the house. Even so, when she neared the kitchen door, he spoke without turning around. โI have found the scrying mirror, Miss Scrivener.โ His tone was mild. โIn the future, I advise against using the laundry chute to dispose of magical artifacts.โ
Abashed, she came inside and perched on a stool by the hearth. There were signs of Beatrice having made use of the kitchen: a cutting board with a loaf of bread beside it, the remains of diced vegetables. A pot simmered on the 1re. When Nathaniel kicked her out, she had been making soup.
Silas was dressed impeccably in his servantโs uniform once more, his hair tied back, surveying Beatriceโs work with disdain. As she watched, he adjusted the cutting board so that it sat parallel to the edge of the counter. She searched inside herself for resentment, fear, anger toward him, and found nothing. He had always been honest with her about what he was.
โWhat have you done with the mirror?โ she asked.
โI have placed it in the attic, facing a portrait of Clothilde Thorn. Should the Chancellor happen to look through it, I trust he will receive an unpleasant surprise.โ Before Elisabeth could respond, he said, โWould you try that broth and tell me how it tastes?โ
She found a ladle and dipped it into the pot. โItโs good,โ she reported. โBut not exceptional?โ
โI suppose not,โ she said, unsure whether there was such a thing as exceptional broth.
โI feared as much,โ he sighed. โI shall have to start over from the beginning.โ
Elisabeth watched him dice carrots and onions, hypnoti>ed by the rhythmic tapping of the knife against the board. After last night, it seemed impossible that his alabaster hands should look so Aawless. His burnt,
steaming wounds Aashed before her eyes, and she winced. โSilas,โ she said tentatively. โHow did Ashcroft catch you?โ
The knife paused. She couldnโt tell if the hint of tension in his shoulders was real or imagined. โHe used a device invented by the Collegium during the Reforms, designed to control rebellious sorcerers by capturing their servants. I did not expect it. I had not seen one since the days that I served Master Thornโs great-grandfather.โ
โIโm sorry.โ Guilt twisted her stomach. โIf I hadnโt asked you to goโโ โDo not apologi>e to me, Miss Scrivener.โ His voice sounded clipped, as
close to anger as she had ever heard him. โIt was my own carelessness at fault.โ Elisabeth doubted that. Silas was never anything but meticulous.
However, she received the impression that he wouldnโt appreciate her saying so out loud.
Finally, he spoke again. โYou came downstairs to ask about the life you bargained to me. You wished to know how it works.โ
She sat up in surprise. โYes.โ
โBut now you are having second thoughts.โ
โIโm wondering ifโperhaps it would be better not to know.โ She hesitated. โI could still live to be seventy, or I could die tomorrow. If I knew
โif you told meโI think that would change the way I lived. I would always be thinking about it, and I donโt want that.โ
Silas continued chopping, aware she wasnโt 1nished.
โBut I would like to know . . . how it happens. Do you do it yourself? Or do we just . . . ?โ
She imagined herself toppling over dead, her heart stopped in an instant. That wouldnโt be so terrible, at least not for herself. The thought of Nathaniel dying that wayโ
โNo,โ said Silas. โIt is not like that.โ Now it was his turn to hesitate. He went on softly, โIt is impossible to know how many years a human will live, or in what manner they will die. Life is like the oil within a lamp. It can be measured, but the pace at which it burns depends upon how the dial is turned day by day, how bright and 1erce the Aame. And there is no predicting whether the lamp might be knocked to the ground and shatter, when it could have bla>ed on a great while longer. Such is the unpredictability of life. It is good you do not have many questions; I do not have any answers. A portion
of the fuel, the life force that once belonged to you and Master ThornโI hold it now within myself. That is all I can tell you. The rest remains uncertain.โ
Thoughtfully, Elisabeth leaned back against the 1replaceโs warm stones. โI see.โ She found his explanation strangely comfortingโthe idea that she had no preordained number of years remaining, that even Silas didnโt know her fate.
The warmth of the stones soothed her bruised and aching muscles. Her eyelids drooped. She felt as though she were half in the kitchen, listening to the quiet rattle of pots and pans, and half back in Summershall, dreaming of the apples in autumn, the market saturated in golden light. Eventually, she was roused by Silas setting the table in front of her. Her stomach growled at the rich aroma of thyme emanating from the pot on the 1re. She blinked the rest of the way awake, watching him lift the potโs lid and glance inside.
She wondered how he could tell whether it was 1nished, 1nding the taste and presumably the smell unappeti>ing. โDid one of the servants teach you how to cook?โ she asked drowsily.
โNo, miss.โ He straightened to fetch a bowl. โThe human servants did not speak to me, nor I to them. I learned through practice, as a matter of necessity. The appetite of a human boy of twelve is almost as frightening as that of a demon. And the lack of manners; I shudder to recall it.โ
Guiltily, she took the napkin and placed it on her lap, conscious of the look he had just sent her beneath his lashes. โSo you didnโt start until after Alistair died.โ
He nodded as he ladled soup into the bowl. โInitially, I didnโt have the faintest idea how to care for Master Thorn. He came to me in poor condition; he had badly cut his arm drawing blood for the summoningโthat is the scar, which I had not the knowledge to tend properlyย โ
Silasโs movements slowed, then stilled. His eyes were distant, ga>ing not at anything in the kitchen, but far into the past. Firelight Aickered across his youthful face, lending his alabaster features the illusion of color. Even that wasnโt enough to make him look mortal. She was aware of the vast gulf between them: his unfathomable age, the inscrutable turning of his thoughts, like the cogs within a machine.
โFirst, I learned how to make tea,โ he said 1nally, speaking more to himself than to her. โWhen humans wish to help, they are forever oPering each other tea.โ
Elisabethโs chest squee>ed. She pictured the two diPerent Silases: the one in the pentagram, eyes dark and empty with hunger, and the other in the pavilionโs moonlight, a sword through his chest, his features etched with relief.
She said, โYou love him.โ
Silas turned away. He set the potโs lid back in place.
โI didnโt understand before,โ she went on quietly. Beneath the table, the napkin twisted in her hands. โTruthfully, I hadnโt thought it possible. It wasnโt until today, when I 1nally saw whyโโย Why you had taben tmenty yeavs of Rathanielโs life. She didnโt 1nish.
Silas rose and set the bowl before her. โEnjoy your supper, Miss Scrivener,โ he said. โI will attend to Master Thorn, and see if I can persuade him to take some broth.โ
As he turned, his eyes caught on something near her face, and he paused. He reached toward her, his claws very close to her neck, and drew out a lock of her hair. Her heart skipped. Several of the strands shone silver against the chestnut tresses spilling over his hand. Silasโs mark. It wasnโt as noticeable as Nathanielโs, but she would still have to hide itโperhaps cut it oP in order to avoid suspicion.
โI had nearly forgotten,โ Silas murmured, ga>ing at the silver as though mesmeri>ed. โIt is an extraordinary sign of trust for my master to have allowed you to hear my true name. You are the 1rst person outside House Thorn to know it in centuries. Now, if you wish, you can summon me. But there is something else you must know. You also have the power to set me free.โ
Her mouth had gone dry, despite the soup sending up fragrant tendrils of steam. โWhat do you mean?โ
His eyes shifted to her face. In the 1relight they looked more gold than yellow. โBound in servitude, I exist as a pale imitation of my true self, the greater part of my strength locked away. You saw a glimpse of what I truly am inside the pentagramโonly a glimpse. Were you to free me, I would be unleashed upon this realm as a scourge, a cataclysm beyond reckoning.โ
A chill ran down Elisabethโs spine. Was he asking her to free him? Surely not. But she could think of no other reason why he would tell her this.
โAs a child, Master Thorn once proposed the idea,โ Silas said, very softly. โHe liked the thought of setting me free, of allowing us to be equals instead of master and servant. I told him not to. I give you the same warning now, though I donโt believe you require it. Do not free me, Miss Scrivener, no matter what comes for us, no matter how unspeakable things become, because I assure you that I am worse.โ
He held her ga>e a moment longer, then straightened and inclined his head in a bow. โGood night, miss,โ he said, and left her sitting petri1ed by the 1re.