Silence fell upon the foot of the table, where Albert and Lady Carroway sat with Dora.
This is actually quite bad, Dora thought dimly. Elias is losing his mind. He will drive off his only allies this way.
Dora stood up from the table herself. “Lady Carroway,” she said slowly. “I fear I require a chaperone. I would consider myself deeply in your debt if you would accompany me while I tell the Lord Sorcier what a fool he has made of himself.”
Lady Carroway considered her with that carefully neutral expression. At first, Dora thought she might decline—such a request was terribly improper, especially given that the lady was still obliged to act as hostess. But the viscountess stood up a moment later and inclined her head. “You may have to catch him, Miss Ettings,” she observed.
Dora nodded and started towards the door with determination.
It wasn’t hard to figure out where Elias was headed. He had gone directly for the front door, sweeping past the butler in a dark mood. Dora headed out after him in her slippers, with a hard determination in her own stride. To her credit, Lady Carroway kept up, ignoring the slight drizzle of rain that covered the street.
As it turned out, they did not have very far to go at all.
Just out of sight of the stairs to the front door, Elias had leaned himself back against the wall of the house, breathing hard. He had his hands in his hair, and there was such a look on his face that Dora suspected he had realised, on some level, the extent of his decline.
In that light mist of rain, with his white-blond hair pinned to his face and his golden eyes ragged, he looked far less lordly and dangerous and far more... lost.
“You need food and sleep,” Dora told him promptly, as she approached. “And a dose of good sense—but food and sleep supply the latter, I am told.”
Elias looked up at her sharply. He tensed his shoulders, and Dora saw the danger in his manner. She had cornered him, just when he thought himself safe to drown in misery. Elias flicked his eyes to the viscountess behind Dora, and then back again. “I do not wish to speak with you, Miss Ettings,” he said coldly. But there was a tremor in his voice, and it did not do much for his authority.
“Everyone does things sometimes which they do not wish to do,” Dora told him evenly. “Even magicians.” She closed much of the distance between them, standing very straight so that she could look him in the eyes. “I am not angry with you. You know that I am not.”
Elias sucked in a breath. Dora saw him struggle for a long moment with his own irrational emotions. “...I believe you,” he said finally. It was only the thinnest of acknowledgements—but it was something.
“You are angry, of course,” Dora said. “And I think you have good reason. But you are also not in control of yourself—and you have said things now which I suspect you will regret.”
Dora searched her thin array of emotion, trying to find some understanding which made sense. The idea that Elias was angry enough to lash out at Albert seemed incredible. She had seen the circumstances of their friendship! It was so very clear how much they loved one another.
...but I love Vanessa too, Dora realised. And she has disappointed me all the same. I was so grieved, and she did not share the depths of that grief. Perhaps I might have also been angry with her, if I were capable of such a thing.
Dora reached out to touch Elias very carefully on the shoulder. “You do not have many friends, Elias,” she said slowly. “I may be wrong about this—in fact, I am most likely wrong—but I think that you are grieving. And if you trusted your friends enough to show that grief, instead of turning it to anger, you would not now be outside in the rain.”
Elias stared at her. As Dora considered his face, she became convinced that there were tears there.
“Oh, bother,” Dora sighed. “I am about to flout propriety, Lady Carroway. Do be kind to me, please.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around the magician—and felt him crumble away against her.
Elias was not light; Dora found herself buckling more than a little bit beneath his weight. But she bore up as best she could, as he pressed his face into her shoulder and sobbed.
The awkwardness of the situation was not lost on Dora. She could not help but notice it in her usual, detached way. But there was also a profound relief in the breaking of Elias’ anger that she thought had affected them all. After a moment’s hesitation, Lady Carroway stepped forward to press a hand to Dora’s shoulders, helping to keep her upright—though the viscountess did not quite dare to touch Elias himself.
Many minutes later, Elias managed a hoarse, terrified whisper. “I am going to fail again,” he said. “There is never anything that I can do. And the world will go on, just as it always has. There will be people at fine dinners, pretending... believing that nothing is wrong.” The wretched, lonely grief that Dora had suspected in him was now absolutely obvious in his manner.
Lady Carroway took a slow breath. “You are wrong,” she said. Her tone was kind and reassuring, rather than accusing. “My husband has wept and raged over the blindness of his peers. He has asked me before how the world can be so heartless. It is this dastardly need to remain calm and composed and polite that has left us all feeling so alone.” She was very quiet for a moment. “I admit that we are better off than we could otherwise manage. It is a hard thing, giving up what is already had. But each time Lord Carroway vents his frustration, we find
