“Oh,” he said, the word whooshing out like a relieved breath, his eyes meeting hers.
Explanations—the full story—pressed to get out. She bit her tongue, hard, tasting blood.
“Forgive me,” Peter murmured, and oh Lord, that made it worse, but then he kissed his way down her jawline and trailed his fingers along her bare arms and when she opened her mouth, nothing came out but an incoherent sound. “I can barely manage to care about that here, Beatrix.”
She could tell him the truth. Explain the whole plan, argue her case in this in-between land, while he was as susceptible to her as she was to him. She wanted them to be on the same side. She felt the absence of his faith and support as if they were organs she could barely function without.
But she was silenced by the memory of how he’d looked at her when telling women the truth about magic was all she intended to do.
“I love you,” he whispered, sounding as miserable as she felt.
She said the words back to him. True and false at the same time, and never before had that seemed more apt.
Beatrix avoidedPeter at church the next morning and hustled out the moment Mrs. Sederey played the last strains of “Trust and Obey,” slipping into her coat and threadbare scarf as she walked.
“Ella and I have some errands to run, so I’ll just drop you all home and we’ll be off,” she said in what she hoped was a casual way to her sister and Rosemarie, in the back seat with Miss Massey, their lone non-League tenant.
“Oh—I’ll come with you,” Lydia said.
Beatrix glanced at Ella, unnerved. “Um …”
“For once I don’t have anything scheduled,” her sister said. “And you know, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you except to say good morning and good night.”
Beatrix couldn’t remember the last time, outside of birthdays, that Lydia suggested doing something purely to be together. Months ago, at least. Did she suspect? Had Peter said something to her?
“Unless … you don’t want me to tag along,” Lydia said into the too-long silence, and the disappointment sounded genuine.
“No, it’s not that,” Beatrix said, heart twisting as she grasped for a reasonable excuse.
“It’s that she promised she’d help me with a family problem on the way.” Ella, bless her quick mind, turned in her seat to look back. “I hope that’s OK.”
“Oh—yes, of course,” Lydia said, voice even. “Some other time.”
“I’d like that,” Beatrix said automatically, wondering the next moment what she’d say to her sister if they spent an entire afternoon together.
You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you that Omnimancer Blackwell is in love with me. Also, we dream in tandem. Something to do with making Vows to each other. Speaking of which, my Vow considers it a problem that I don’t love him back, so it’s warping my feelings to the point that I can hardly tell how I feel anymore. Oh, and we’re permanently trapped by our Vows now, so the only way out is death.
She almost laughed at the thought of that conversation. Almost.
Lydia, Rosemarie and Miss Massey slid out of the car when Beatrix stopped by the front door. Then she and Ella were off, Ella letting out a joyous whoop.
“Thank you,” Beatrix said. “Very clever.”
“Smarty-skirts Ella at your service,” she said. “My father always called me that, and I hated it. Can you give me some words of comfort to resolve that family problem?”
Beatrix grinned at her as she slowed to turn onto Main Street. “Take it as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t the term, it was the tone.” Ella sounded too honestly aggrieved for it to come off as a light-heartedcomment, but before Beatrix could come up with a response, Ella fished the lunch box from under her seat. “Would you like your sandwich now or when we get there?”
“There” was the Annapolis boarding house managed by Clara Daniels, treasurer of the League’s Anne Arundel County chapter. Beatrix drove by a circuitous route that ensured no one tailed them, just in case. After that they went to see Marilyn Zuckerman, the Baltimore County chapter vice president.
Both said yes. Both took a Vow.
It was a terrible risk, recruiting members of the League—this group that proclaimed its opposition to magic in its very name. But the young women who joined because Lydia’s message resonated with them saw the organization as a means to more rights, not a way to beat back an evil practice. And they were the people she and Ella knew best. It seemed more dangerous for her to approach women who weren’t League leaders. What friends, really, did she have outside the League at this point?
The voice in her head that sounded like Peter whispered,This is madness.
She pressed the whispers into the anxiety-rock in her stomach and drove. Three down.
