Simon asked.
“Yes,” the Scrivener said simply. He turned the weight of his gaze to Michael. “From now on it is our wish that you keep your wife on a shorter leash, Mr. Black.”
I scowled and interrupted with a retort before Michael could manage a reply. “I am not a lost puppy, sir. I do not need a keeper.”
“Judging by the damage you leave in your wake, I disagree.”
“What damage? I did not kill two people, Mr. Farrell did, and he suffered the consequences. Isn’t it the business of the Order to record magician history? Why are you afraid that I will unearth knowledge? That is your purpose.”
Anger flashed through him like a sudden burst of flame. “We record. We observe. We share information when it is to the benefit of the Order and other magicians. But some information is not meant to be shared. It is also our responsibility to ensure that we don’t incite disharmony.” Annoyance crept into the Scrivener’s tone. “And you, Mrs. Black, cause chaos.”
“I prefer to think that I am finding justice for the victims of a terrible crime.”
“Justice is often in the eye of the beholder,” he argued.
“Justice is a guardian’s purpose, and one has sought my aid. Who are you to deny it to her?”
The Scrivener snarled. “Justine Dubois is a mewling, impudent child playing at being a guardian.”
“Better than being a moldering fossil playing at being a politician,” I said hotly.
He reached for me, and Michael snatched his arm before the Scrivener could grab me. We all gaped at my husband in surprise.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her,” Michael warned. “This has gone far enough. I understood the Order’s desire to keep membership restricted to librarians, but that does not mean that my wife—my soul mate—is not worthy of your respect.”
Though my heart raced like a frightened rabbit’s, it soared at the sight of the husband I had missed—the man who braved the dark to protect me from a murderous necromancer and who would charge into hell and back to keep me safe. He put himself between us, shielding me from the Scrivener. It awed and terrified me.
Simon separated them. “I would have a word with you in private, sir. Michael, please escort Mrs. Black outside and wait for me in the hallway.”
My husband obeyed without argument, and I was grateful for the escape as I took his arm. The heavy wooden door shut behind us, and though I knew I shouldn’t, I immediately embraced him.
“I love you.” I buried my face against his chest.
Michael held me close and stroked my hair. “I love you, too, darling. I hope you believe that.”
“Of course I do.” Though, admittedly, I did feel more secure about that after having witnessed him stand up for me in the face of the most powerful member of the Order in England, perhaps even in the entire hemisphere. But I also knew that any moment Simon would emerge from the room and part us as though we were naughty lovers engaging in a clandestine affair.
Several moments passed in tense silence until Simon finally joined us. He was displeased but unscathed, and I bit my tongue to prevent myself from asking what had transpired in our absence.
“We will continue as part of Miss Dubois’s investigation as planned,” Simon announced.
“Thank you,” I said, and he glared at me.
“Do not thank me for this. Let’s be on our way before he changes his mind.”
Chapter Eight
A note arrived the next afternoon stating that Miss Thistlegoode had gone missing, and that Justine and Dr. Bennett would meet me at the Thistlegoodes’ home. Simon glared after me as I left, but he wouldn’t leave Michael unattended, and Michael couldn’t brave the daylight. This was a matter that couldn’t wait for the sun to set, for every moment that passed was another missed opportunity to find Miss Thistlegoode alive.
Mr. and Mrs. Thistlegoode were so overwhelmed with fear for their daughter that being in the same room with them almost choked me.
“Yes,” the Scrivener said simply. He turned the weight of his gaze to Michael. “From now on it is our wish that you keep your wife on a shorter leash, Mr. Black.”
I scowled and interrupted with a retort before Michael could manage a reply. “I am not a lost puppy, sir. I do not need a keeper.”
“Judging by the damage you leave in your wake, I disagree.”
“What damage? I did not kill two people, Mr. Farrell did, and he suffered the consequences. Isn’t it the business of the Order to record magician history? Why are you afraid that I will unearth knowledge? That is your purpose.”
Anger flashed through him like a sudden burst of flame. “We record. We observe. We share information when it is to the benefit of the Order and other magicians. But some information is not meant to be shared. It is also our responsibility to ensure that we don’t incite disharmony.” Annoyance crept into the Scrivener’s tone. “And you, Mrs. Black, cause chaos.”
“I prefer to think that I am finding justice for the victims of a terrible crime.”
“Justice is often in the eye of the beholder,” he argued.
“Justice is a guardian’s purpose, and one has sought my aid. Who are you to deny it to her?”
The Scrivener snarled. “Justine Dubois is a mewling, impudent child playing at being a guardian.”
“Better than being a moldering fossil playing at being a politician,” I said hotly.
He reached for me, and Michael snatched his arm before the Scrivener could grab me. We all gaped at my husband in surprise.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her,” Michael warned. “This has gone far enough. I understood the Order’s desire to keep membership restricted to librarians, but that does not mean that my wife—my soul mate—is not worthy of your respect.”
Though my heart raced like a frightened rabbit’s, it soared at the sight of the husband I had missed—the man who braved the dark to protect me from a murderous necromancer and who would charge into hell and back to keep me safe. He put himself between us, shielding me from the Scrivener. It awed and terrified me.
Simon separated them. “I would have a word with you in private, sir. Michael, please escort Mrs. Black outside and wait for me in the hallway.”
My husband obeyed without argument, and I was grateful for the escape as I took his arm. The heavy wooden door shut behind us, and though I knew I shouldn’t, I immediately embraced him.
“I love you.” I buried my face against his chest.
Michael held me close and stroked my hair. “I love you, too, darling. I hope you believe that.”
“Of course I do.” Though, admittedly, I did feel more secure about that after having witnessed him stand up for me in the face of the most powerful member of the Order in England, perhaps even in the entire hemisphere. But I also knew that any moment Simon would emerge from the room and part us as though we were naughty lovers engaging in a clandestine affair.
Several moments passed in tense silence until Simon finally joined us. He was displeased but unscathed, and I bit my tongue to prevent myself from asking what had transpired in our absence.
“We will continue as part of Miss Dubois’s investigation as planned,” Simon announced.
“Thank you,” I said, and he glared at me.
“Do not thank me for this. Let’s be on our way before he changes his mind.”
Chapter Eight
A note arrived the next afternoon stating that Miss Thistlegoode had gone missing, and that Justine and Dr. Bennett would meet me at the Thistlegoodes’ home. Simon glared after me as I left, but he wouldn’t leave Michael unattended, and Michael couldn’t brave the daylight. This was a matter that couldn’t wait for the sun to set, for every moment that passed was another missed opportunity to find Miss Thistlegoode alive.
Mr. and Mrs. Thistlegoode were so overwhelmed with fear for their daughter that being in the same room with them almost choked me.
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