Chapter 16
Things do not change; we change.
HENRY DAVID THOREAU
“What is it, sweetheart?” Prudence made sure the bedroom door was securely shut, and moved to embrace Iolanthe. “What’s wrong?”
Io’s face with tight with unhappiness. “You have to help me, Prudence. I have to see the witch who was here … the old woman …”
“I know whom you mean, darling, but why? If it’s the headache again—”
She shook her head. “It’s a personal matter.”
“A personal …” Prudence’s voice trailed off. She inspected Io, then took her hand and led her over to a pile of embroidered pillows. “Sit.”
“Prudence—”
“Sit.” Her hands pushing on Io’s shoulders made it difficult not to. They sat and Prudence smoothed her dress. “Now, darling, listen. If anything has happened to you, I just want you to know that we can deal with it. Adrian will never back out of the marriage at this point. You’re perfectly safe.”
Io looked up, startled. “What?”
Her companion was businesslike. “Has Adrian been anticipating the wedding? He’s a Mercati, I don’t expect a saint of abstinence.”
“No! Of course not! Adrian …” Words failed her. “Our tall sergeant, then? I swear to you, Io, we can deal with it.”
“No!”
‘Then what is it?”
Iolanthe swallowed. “There’s something wrong with me.”
“You mean …”
“Here, there’s something wrong here.” Her hands circled nervously, an inch from her crotch. “It hurts.” Prudence hesitated. “Since when?”
“Two days. And I had some terrible dreams—like fever dreams. I think I’ve caught some kind of sickness.” Prudence stood then and began pacing, a general faced with a new tactical problem. Finally she turned to Io. “You’re probably right, we should call Granny. But we can’t bring a witch here without preparation. It must be done discreetly. We need Adrian’s permission and help.”
“I don’t want to talk to him about this.”
“Look at me, Io. It won’t lessen your value.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll talk to him.”
“No.”
“Sooner or later, somebody has to talk to somebody. Be sensible.”
Io met her eyes. “Ask Lord Fischer.”
That stopped her. Io was perfectly right; Fischer could arrange something discreetly, if anyone could. And he was behind the marriage, and was a reasonable man.
“Hmm. For a stranger to court, you have better ideas than I do, sometimes. All right, stay here and wait for me. I’ll sound out the weather in that direction.”
Io smiled wanly. Prudence kissed her and went off to find Brandon Fischer.
When she returned to the room an hour later, she was fuming. She would kill Adrian. She would pummel him to the deck and set her dogs on him.
“Prudence? What did they say?”
She sat down beside Io and took her hand. “I spoke directly to Granny Seaton, dear heart. She said not to worry, that this is perfectly normal.”
“It is?”
“Yes, it’s something that happens to some women when they reach maturity. Just a phase. I means your, er, womanhood has developed properly.” Surely that didn’t sound at all plausible, did it? Fortunately Io’s complete ignorance was an advantage.
She looked distrustful, though, Prudence noted. Yes, she would have to kill Adrian. After her dogs were finished, she’d torture the remnants. Like all Mercatis, he took the easy road when it came to personal relations— when charm wouldn’t do the trick, perhaps abdicating responsibility would….
“But it hurts, Prudence. That can’t be right.”
“The hurt will fade, dear, I promise. In a few days.”
“Really?”
How typical of the man. He was as in love as he’d ever been, and yet the idea of respecting the wishes of his beloved never crossed his pointy little mind. It might be a bad PR move to tell her the truth, after all.
Prudence put her arm around Iolanthe and rocked her gently. “Of course.”
There was a whole person, a whole world in there, Prudence thought. Young and naive, but with glimmers of good sense. One day Io would say something wise to the poor boy and he’d be caught in a rainstorm of surprise. For Adrian, loving a woman and acquiring a new puppy—or a pet demon—were somewhere on the same scale, and Prudence longed to see that scale get too heavy for him to handle.
“And do you know,” she murmured, kissing Io’s forehead, “I think we’re heading in that direction.” After all, puppies grew into hounds that could lick your face or tear out your throat. Who knew what Iolanthe would grow into?
“What direction are you talking about? And why are you smiling?”
“I like surprises,” said Prudence cryptically.
Several days later, following the instructions she received from Hartley Quince, Iolanthe made known her wish to see the Helium Park Zoo on a day when Adrian’s schedule was impregnable. Brandon Fischer could not be spared either, and Adrian sent sincere apologies. But was there any reason, Iolanthe inquired, she could not visit the zoo in the company of her bodyguard and one or two old friends from Opal?
She was assured there was not. And so on this pleasant spring afternoon, sent to them by an obliging Helium Park Climate Control division, she crossed the river in a water-taxi to Zoo Island. Hartley Quince stood on her right, licking a lemon ice. His eyes scanned the banks of the river. Will Stockton sat beside her on the bench, his back to the water. The driver glanced at them from time to time; the boat purred gently as it moved; the air was warm and deceivingly fresh. A simple day on the river.
The taxi had room for about seven passengers, but they were the total complement; Will had paid the driver to leave ahead of schedule. Behind them the endless greenery of Helium Park extended for miles, with here and there an obscure government monument poking above the tree tops. Conversation languished until they put in at the small dock on the island, got
