Poison in the Blood by Robyn Bachar Page A

his frown, he was not pleased to see me.
    On the surface, he appeared younger than all of us. Barely a grown man, in fact, with a slight build, short-cropped dark hair, and a scar that marred the left side of his face. An old war wound, likely some sort of blade judging by the thin slice.
    “What did Lady Brigid offer you?” he asked without preamble.
    “I declined her offer,” I said.
    “That is not what I asked.”
    I squared my shoulders. “Lady Brigid offered to mentor me if I wished to become a master necromancer.”
    The Scrivener folded his hands in front of him while he studied me, and the gesture reminded me of Simon. “What reason did she give for offering this?”
    I hesitated, for her opinion on the Order had seemed as sour as my own, and I doubted that they would appreciate her words. Then the Scrivener’s frown deepened, and I decided that honesty would be the best course of action.
    “She said that the Order were fools for not taking advantage of my abilities. That you had forgotten that the Lady was both a mother and warrior, and that she would be appreciative of my magic if I became her apprentice.”
    “And you believed her?” he scoffed.
    “No. She is a necromancer, and therefore not to be trusted. As I said, I declined her offer. But she was not wrong that my magic is being wasted.”
    “We are not about to change our structure based on the needs of one initiate.”
    “I don’t expect you to. Is there a reason for this summons?” Despite my attempt to sound brave, my voice was thin and reedy.
    “I want you to stop aiding Guardian Dubois. Immediately.”
    “We’re all aiding her now,” Michael said. Simon blinked at him and coughed, looking as though he had swallowed an insect.
    “What my apprentice is attempting to say is that I have combined our investigation with that of Miss Dubois in order to gain access to her guardian resources,” Simon explained quickly.
    “Then you will cease doing so. Mrs. Black’s involvement in this investigation is causing concern among the councils.”
    I gaped at him, surprised. “How so?”
    “Your visions revealed the identity of a master necromancer who was guilty of murder before, at Lord Willowbrook’s ball. If you uncover a second guilty necromancer, people will begin to wonder if you have an agenda, because your soul mate is a member of the Order.”
    “But I am not. You have made it quite clear that I am not welcome among you. My actions are my own, and why aren’t the councils more concerned with the trend of murderous necromancers instead of my visions of their crimes?”
    “Because murderous necromancers are to be expected. They are ever present throughout our history, and will continue to be so. Seers are unexpected. There is no way to predict what secrets you will uncover if you charge about through London at the side of a guardian.”
    “Such paranoia is unnecessary. Mrs. Black’s involvement with the investigation will be under our close supervision. I can ensure her discretion in her findings,” Simon assured him.
    “You did not ensure it in the past, Lord Wroth,” the Scrivener argued. Simon did not react to the use of his True Name, but I sensed a flutter in his energy.
    Simon’s chin rose a fraction. “I was found innocent of any wrongdoing regarding my actions in dealing with Mr. Farrell.”
    The Scrivener tilted his head as he studied Simon. Though Simon didn’t flinch under the elder chronicler’s gaze, I felt another shift in his energy. Stronger this time, with an undercurrent of concern. There was still more to this story than he had shared with us. “You took up a sword and beheaded a master necromancer at a social gathering. Your exploits may not have been officially censured, but that does not mean you are considered to be free from responsibility for them. You have brought discord into the Order and suspicion of our actions by the necromancer council.”
    “Would you have preferred that I did nothing?”