“I think that it is the Lord Sorcier,” Dora said.
Lord Blackthorn made a thoughtful ‘hm’ at that answer. “I thought that only France had a Lord Sorcier,” he said.
“There is an English one now as well,” said Dora. “And yes, I... I think that he is the most virtuous man that I have met.” She found herself unaccountably shy on the words.
“But why is that?” Lord Blackthorn asked. “What makes him virtuous?”
Dora smiled distantly at her feet. “I think that he is virtuous because he is kind to the powerless and cruel to the powerful,” she said.
“But is he wealthy?” Lord Blackthorn asked curiously. “Does he have five jackets, like Lord Hollowvale, or a manor full of servants?”
“I do not think that he is wealthy,” Dora said. “In fact, I suspect that he has given away most of his money.”
“How puzzling!” Lord Blackthorn said. “I was sure that money had something to do with English virtue. All of the most respected men in England become even better respected as they gain more money, do they not?”
“They do,” Dora admitted. “But respect is not equivalent to virtue. And you specifically asked me whom it was that I believed to be most virtuous in England.”
“So I did,” Lord Blackthorn mused. “And what a confusing answer. But now you must ask me your question, Miss Theodora.”
Dora paused long enough to circle the tall faerie and bow to him again, as she phrased her question very carefully in her mind. “I would like to know all of the most reasonable ways for a mortal to defeat a powerful faerie,” she said.
She was expecting Lord Blackthorn to be offended at this—but he laughed instead, as though they were playing a game. “Oh, but that is simple!” he said. “Iron is always best—for it will end our magic in a hurry, and it is terrible poison to us. If you do not have iron, then powerful magic might do, though most of us are far more practiced than even the greatest of mortal magicians.” He considered for a moment longer, then added: “Some mortals have managed to defeat us through trickery and careful wording, but we almost always get the better end of every deal we make.”
Dora smiled vaguely at that. “How interesting,” she said. “I have so many more questions about faerie. Would you like to exchange another set of queries?”
“I would love to!” Lord Blackthorn declared. “But alas—the dance is close to ending, and I must return you to your chaperone, or else we must get married.”
Dora hid a sigh as the viscount led her back towards Lady Mourningwood. The dark-eyed faerie woman took her by the arm again and turned towards another man—but this time, Dora was surprised to realise that she could already see him. She did not dare to look up at the faerie gentleman, but she saw that his boots were more worn than Lord Blackthorn’s had been. Whoever it is, Dora thought. We have already been introduced somehow.
“This is Miss Theodora, Lord Hollowvale’s English daughter,” the baroness said again. “Miss Theodora, this is the earl, Lord Longshadow.”
“How charming,” said Elias, in exactly the same tone that Lord Blackthorn had used before—and he offered out a hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Theodora?”
Chapter 18
It took all of Dora’s willpower not to look up at Elias as he spoke. Thankfully, Lady Mourningwood replied as she had done before: “You may. But you must bring Miss Theodora right back to me when you are done, or else you will be obliged to marry her.”
“How terrible,” Elias said. “I shall keep the punishment in mind.”
He took Dora by the hand, and some subtle tension she had been holding inside herself melted away in abject relief. Elias’ hand was warm and familiar, and she was suddenly so glad to see him that a hint of real joy sparked inside her chest.
Elias led her out onto the floor, and Dora took a deep breath. “I will find it difficult to follow your lead,” she told him. “I cannot see anyone here unless I have been formally introduced to them. I would not even know if someone was listening over my shoulder.” She tightened her fingers on his, hoping that Elias would understand the hint.
“I will keep us away from the others as much as I can then,” Elias murmured quietly. “And I shall hold your hand more tightly if someone should come too close.” He squeezed her fingers once in demonstration, then loosened his grip again. “They have placed many silly rules upon this party, I am sure. Is that why you will not look at me?”
“Lady Mourningwood will pluck out my eyes if I look at a man directly,” Dora told him evenly. “She is a very good chaperone, you see.”
Elias let out a soft sound of disgust. “I thought it would be too soon if I ever attended one of these ridiculous balls again,” he muttered. “Thankfully, faeries do not expect each other to lie. I am wearing Lord Longshadow’s face right now, since it is one of the few that I know well. I claimed to be him, and they let me right through the door.”
“So you are not Lord Longshadow,” Dora said. “I wondered for a moment, I admit.”
“I am not,” Elias said in a low voice. “I have no title. I killed my father, and so I might have inherited his—but I left faerie, and someone else claimed it in my place.”
“You killed—” Elias squeezed her hand, and Dora cut herself off abruptly. He took them a few long paces forward, and his fingers loosened again.
“It is a common method of inheritance in faerie,” Elias said, and there was a sadness in his voice now. “I did not want to kill him. But he left me rather no choice in the matter. His successor
