“It is illegal to buy and sell human beings in England,” Elias said. “It has been against the law since 1807, in fact.”
“The creatures that I have bought do nothing here that they would not be doing in England!” Lord Hollowvale hissed stubbornly. “I have been nothing but charitable to the ungrateful wretches. You shall not come into my home and impugn my virtue, you mongrel changeling creature!”
“Oh!” Lord Blackthorn’s voice rang out with amusement, and Dora saw him standing very close by within the crowd, with Theodora leaning faintly on his shoulder. “But Lord Hollowvale—you are addressing the most virtuous man in all of England! I have heard it most reliably!”
This only made the marquess’ face grow darker and more forbidding. “I do not believe it for a moment!” he said. “What a preposterous idea! Look at the sorry state of his boots! And he is wearing only one jacket, you see!”
Dora’s other half was flickering in and out of view in a very strange way. Dora saw a frayed red thread extending between Theodora and herself, and she realised that whatever Elias had done to her sight, it had shown her more than just the invisible faeries around her. Even as Dora watched, the red thread began to strengthen and contract.
She glanced back towards Lord Hollowvale and saw more than a dozen red threads tied about his arms and fingers. I must cut those threads, Dora realised. I cannot wait until I am whole again, or it will be too late.
Dora forced herself to stand on her own two feet, though the effort was extreme. She clutched in her hand the leather sheath that Elias had given her, feeling the cold touch of the iron scissors against her palm.
Elias released her. “I suppose that we must duel then,” he supplied helpfully. “For I intend to marry Dora and take her and those children home. And you must protect your honour, for I have accused you of the crime of slavery.”
“How exciting!” Lord Blackthorn said. “I have always wanted to see an English duel. I shall play second for the Lord Sorcier, then!”
Lord Hollowvale’s pale eyes flickered with rage. “I need no second,” he declared. “For this duel will be over in only a moment.”
Dora slipped her way back through the shadows of the crowd, trying to angle herself around Lord Hollowvale’s back. There was a burst of arctic chill, and she ducked her head with a gasp. Frost crackled its way along the marble floor, curling in fanciful designs beneath her feet. Her slippers gave her little traction, and she was forced to drop to her knees to keep from falling on her face.
A hand grasped tightly at her arm, and Dora glanced back in surprise. Lady Mourningwood had followed to try and seize her; the baroness’ coal-black eyes seethed with alien fury.
But Dora had begun to remember a hundred hundred lessons with the awful faerie woman, and her emotions were now so keen that she could feel Theodora nearby, staggering to her feet. Her other half leapt forward onto Lady Mourningwood’s back with a furious cry.
“I will tear out your eyes, you evil creature!” Theodora yelled.
Dora wrenched her arm free of the baroness, just as a hiss of blistering heat threw back the unnatural frost. It was the brilliant fire that Elias had wielded upon the battlefield in France—and as dreadful as the marquess’ power was, Dora thought that the faerie had never dared to take on whole armies of men, nor had he fought through the sting of such terrible injuries as Elias had felt.
Perhaps Elias will win, Dora thought hopefully. He has killed one faerie lord already, after all.
She crawled her way free of the crowd, just behind Lord Hollowvale. The crimson strands that surrounded him were taut with power; Dora knew that it would take barely a snip from her scissors to set them loose. He would notice her then, of course, but he would have to turn his attention from the duel in order to do anything about it.
Dora pulled the cold iron scissors from their sheathe... but as she approached the first red strand, she found herself hesitating.
No, she thought sadly. This will not do.
You are right. She felt Theodora agree with her weakly. We must be better than this, for everyone’s sake.
Dora lifted the scissors between both hands—and stabbed them down into Lord Hollowvale’s back, just over his heart.
The faerie staggered forward in shock. Bright red blood began to dribble from the injury, much faster than Dora had anticipated. An awful nausea rose within her stomach, but she held onto the scissors and dug them in more deeply still.
The unnatural chill that had surrounded him began to fade. Dora looked up and met Elias’ eyes for the first time since he had entered. There was a stricken expression on his face, and she wondered if he suspected the full consequences of what she had done.
“I am not well-versed in English duels,” Lord Blackthorn observed. “But I am sure that young ladies are not supposed to stab the participants!”
Lord Hollowvale collapsed to the floor, clutching uselessly at his chest. Dora stared down at him with a mixture of grief and sadness and disgust at her own actions. Thick, sticky blood covered her hands, and the texture of it was very different from punch indeed.
“I did not agree to any duels,” Dora said softly.
Lord Hollowvale stared up at her with trembling, blood-flecked lips. “I have... only ever... been charitable to you,” he whispered.
Dora blinked back hideous tears. “I am sure that every evil man believes himself to be charitable,” she told him. “In that respect, at least, you are a true Englishman.”
The marquess shuddered once... and then went still.
Very slowly, his body began to dissipate into a calm, cold mist. The crimson strings that had attached themselves to the marquess began to waver dangerously.
Theodora struggled towards Dora, staggering into her arms. “I have killed my father,” Dora’s other half declared
