Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01] Read Free

night’s mist.
    “That,” said Malachi, “was most unwise. They’ll spend the rest of the night regaling their comrades with tales ofyour supernatural powers. You seem determined to end your days on the gallows or, worse, burned upon the stake as some of our more unfortunate ancestors were. They couldn’t resist using their powers in public, either.”
    He lifted one gloved hand palm up, upon which a small flame suddenly appeared. Moving closer, he surveyed Niclas’s attire with an expression of polite disdain. “You’re filthy,” he stated. “How long have you been out this time?”
    “It’s good to know that you follow your own advice so well, cousin. For pity’s sake, put your blasted fire away. If the night watch should see—”
    “Why? Is he coming?” Malachi asked. “Is
anyone
coming? I assume you’d give me warning far before any individual could make his—or her—way into view.”
    Niclas scowled. “No. We’re quite alone as far as I can tell. Unless there’s a Seymour or Cadmaran or anyone of our ilk lurking about. But if there were,
you’d
know of it.”
    The fire disappeared and Malachi tugged on his glove to rid it of creases. “We’re quite safe from intrusions of that sort, I promise you. There isn’t a Cadmaran anywhere near London, thank God. If there were, I’d be rather more occupied with them at the moment than with you. How long have you been out?”
    Occupied. Aye, that he would be, Niclas thought. Malachi wasn’t only the head of the Seymour family, but the most powerful wizard in Europe, as well. More than that, he was the
Dewin Mawr
, the recognized leader of the Families. As such, Malachi’s life consisted of one burdensome responsibility after another. There had been a time when Niclas had helped him to shoulder those responsibilities, but that was before the curse, in those nearly forgottendays when his mind had been strong and his thoughts clear, and when his own powers had been so readily controlled.
    “How long?” Malachi prompted.
    Niclas sighed and ran a hand through his thick, unkempt hair.
    “I don’t know. Four days, perhaps.”
    Malachi raised one slender blond eyebrow. “You’ve stopped keeping track?”
    “There’s no reason to do so,” Niclas replied. “Time is all the same for me now.”
    “You must
make
it different,” Malachi said sternly. “I’ve told you time and again how vital it is for you to continue to mark your days and nights. You risk insanity, otherwise.”
    Niclas uttered a mirthless laugh and turned to pace back toward the water’s edge.
    “Risk,” he repeated. “I believe we’re nearly beyond that, cousin.”
    Earl Graymar followed him until they stood side by side at the dock’s railing. “Have you taken that potion I gave you?”
    “It was as useless as the rest,” Niclas told him. “Everything is useless. Malachi,” he said more softly, staring down at the water. “I’m beginning to think that nothing will ever make a difference. Perhaps the curse can’t be lifted.”
    Malachi set a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You mustn’t let yourself give way to despair,
cfender
. There is always a remedy for blood curses, even one so difficult as yours. We have only to find the way.”
    “I used to believe that,” Niclas said. “I don’t anymore. But I’m desperate, and foolish.” He glanced into hiscousin’s face, so filled with concern. “I want to make one more try.”
    “Niclas—”
    “Only one, Malachi, and then I’ll stop. You’ve already divined what I’m going to ask of you.”
    The earl of Graymar straightened, his expression troubled.
    “I’m sorry, Niclas. I would allow almost anything to help you be rid of the curse, but I cannot let you use a complete innocent for your own purposes. Miss Linley trusts me to lend her my aid in solving a difficult problem, not to put her in company with a man who can scarce control his behavior from moment to moment.”
    Niclas faced his powerful cousin