“I killed him,” Dominic finished for me. He looked at his hands.
“He didn’t mean to,” I said. “And he was only defending himself. But my father didn’t believe it. He went to the police. He was going to blame it all on Dominic. Bentivoglio is a powerful man, from a noble family, and Dominic … isn’t.”
Will nodded slowly, looking from Dominic to me.
“So you ran away. I sympathize. I’ve recently found myself on the wrong end of unfair accusations. Breach of contract, in my case, rather than murder, though strangely it carries the same sentence. But nevertheless.” He paused to cough, and when he was finished he looked straight at Dominic with undisguised hostility. “I have missed the part of the story that explains how it was not you who got my Bee into trouble.”
“And I missed the part where she belongs to you,” said Dominic. He didn’t raise his voice, exactly, but seemed close to it.
“I suppose you didn’t stop to think how bad this could be for her now?” Will said. “Especially with those fools in Parliament making speeches about the dangers of the revolutionary French every night?”
Dominic’s eyes flitted to me and filled with guilt.
“I didn’t ask her to help me,” he said.
“He didn’t,” I agreed. “Don’t badger him, Will, please. He isn’t to blame for any of this.”
Will looked at me for a long moment. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He ran his long fingers through his messy hair. It was a familiar enough gesture to bring on another flash of memory: his hand taking mine while we talked.
“If you say so, of course,” he sighed. “But I don’t like seeing you here.”
“I was going to say the same of you,” I said. “Will, wouldn’t it be better to go back to your parents? They wouldn’t send you away, not when you’re sick like this.”
Will shook his head.
“I agreed not to badger your apprentice,” he said. “So I must ask you not to ask about my parents.”
“But—”
“No, Bee.”
His tone was final enough that I could not mistake it. I didn’t press, and he pushed himself laboriously to his feet.
“I suppose it’s been a while since you ate,” said Will, slightly out of breath from the effort. “I’ll go out and get some food, shall I?”
I was starving, and Dominic’s stomach rumbled at the suggestion. I handed Will my coin purse as he went to the door.
“It’s all I have left, I’m afraid,” I said. “But it should be enough to feed us for a while.”
Will gestured to a sad, rumpled pallet in the corner. It was the only piece of furniture in the room that wasn’t alchemical in nature.
“That’s the only bed, I’m afraid. One of you should probably take a turn on it, if you’ve been traveling all night. There’s another room.” Will pointed to a low door off the entryway. “Just a closet, really. It’s empty except for the rats. But you can take the bed in there if you want quiet.”
He slung a coat over his shoulders. I recognized it. It had been a fine coat once, a double-breasted dove-gray garment, cut slim and long. It was ragged and dirty now, but still he looked a bit more like himself as he buttoned it up. He caught me looking at him and smiled.
“This isn’t how I pictured our reunion,” he said. “But I am glad we’re having one, even so.”
He took my hand in his, and warmth spread through me that could not be explained by his hands, which were cold as lead.
“Don’t open the door while I’m gone,” he said as he left.
I locked the door behind him.
“You should sleep,” said Dominic. “I’m not sure I can.”
The shadows under his eyes, dark as bruises, said otherwise.
“You take the bed and I’ll sleep by the fire,” I said. This seemed to me a reasonable division of the scant comforts available. But he argued, and in the end I sank gratefully onto the pallet. The last image I saw before sleep took me was Dominic kneeling by the fire, looking into the brazier.
10
In my dream, someone was watching me.
I didn’t know who. I didn’t know why. My eyes were heavy, and it was a struggle to open them even a sliver. Whatever watched me was behind me, though I couldn’t see it. I kept turning; slowly, then suddenly. But it slipped away each time. I could not catch it. Then my eyes closed and I could not open them. From behind me, hands closed around my neck, slow but firm. Almost gentle. But all the same, I couldn’t draw breath. I choked, and woke up.
I threw myself upright and reached for my neck. I gasped, tried to scream. I tried to peel the hands off, and found there were none.
Someone was beside me, murmuring something. I threw up my hands, but realized at the same moment that he wasn’t trying to hurt me.
“Just a dream, Bee,” he said. “Just a dream.”
Will. I remembered. I started to breathe again, melting into his chest. It was thinner than before, hard like bone instead of muscle. But somehow his arms around me felt as they always had before. Even in this damp garret, it was the same. The only place that had ever felt like home.
“You’re all right. I’m here.”
“I know,” I said. “I know that.”
Something started to soften in my chest. Feelings I had sent into hiding started to creep out, feeling safe for the first time since he had left. I tried to stop them, but I couldn’t, not when he was holding me. I wanted to sob into his chest and see how he would comfort me. He would, I was sure of that,
