Beatrix nodded, unable to speak. The conversation with Peter had been real. He was aware inside his coma-stilled body. It was all she could do not to break down, because that meant the deathly runic magic entombing him was real, too, and he would probably never awaken.
Eventually, she managed to say, “I’d better go. My train…”
Sue walked her to the door. “I know it’s impertinent to ask, but … has Omnimancer Blackwell’s coma affected you beyond the loss of a job?”
The hospital knew about their “engagement,” the lie Beatrix had told to ensure access to him and his doctors. With no next of kin to consult, they’d allowed her to make decisions about his care—not that there had been any to make, beyond continuing it.
But no one in Ellicott Mills worked at the hospital. No one in town—save for Lydia and Rosemarie—knew how she felt about him.
Sue was her friend. Her only friend, now. She murmured, “I love him,” a rogue tear slipping down her cheek at the thought of how much she had lost the day Ella attacked Peter.
Sue nodded, clearly unsurprised. She reached out and squeezed Beatrix’s hand.
“Whatever I can do to help you—both of you—I will do. I owe you my life, you know.” Sue’s lips twisted, wry with a hint of bitter, as she added, “Heaven knows it would be more useful to have someone rich and powerful in your debt, but one takes what one can get.”
“Your friendship,” Beatrix said, a lump in her throat, “means more to me than you could know.”
She gave Sue a swift, tight hug. As she ran for the train, an angry wind whipped tears off her face.
Once in Annapolis, she went to the cafeteria without any expectation of seeing her employer—but Gray was there.
“I need you to organize that press conference,” he said, barely above a whisper. “The one you suggested in your report.”
She was gaping at him, she knew it. She cleared her throat, buying a second to decide how to respond, and went with a simple, “When?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“I don’t have the votes. Those wizards can lobby like nobody’s business.” He shook his head. “Maybe the Sugarworkers can change a few minds.”
She tapped the table. “Lydia’s lining up support from other groups. If you wait a bit, you could have a press conference with a lot more people standing behind you.”
“My bill just got scheduled for a committee vote next Friday. Seven days—that’s all the time we’ve got.”
“OK,” she murmured, mind racing. “OK, I’ll aim for Wednesday or Thursday and get as many supporters as I can.”
He nodded and turned to go.
“Wait,” she hissed. “Should I organize it as your employee or as a League representative? What should I say to people?”
He hesitated. But he gave the answer she expected: “Tell them you’re with the League.”
“All right,” she said and strode off to get started, wondering if she would spend the rest of her life doing work for men that they needed her to keep under wraps.
She was glad to have this assignment, though. Finally, somethinguseful. Something to distract her from everything she couldn’t bear to think about.
She arrivedin Peter’s room that night to find two men sitting beside his bed. One was Dr. Alvarez, head of the coma unit. The other was a wizard.
She steadied herself on the doorframe, hoping the man was a fellow doctor. He wasn’t the wizard who’d attended Peter before.
Alvarez got to his feet. “Miss Harper, this is Wizard Cleary, with the Department of Wizards Affairs.” He hesitated. “I don’t know quite how to put this …”
“Wizard Blackwell has no living relatives,” said Wizard Cleary—brisk, businesslike. He was sitting in her seat, the armchair that Nurse Weller had brought over for her two weeks earlier. “The next-of-kin role defaults to his appointed guardian after his grandmother died—that is, the Arlington Wizardry Academy. They have designated that authority to my office. Therefore, we will now make decisions about his care.”
She forced herself to set aside the shock for later. She took a deep breath. “I am his fiancée. Surely that supersedesa temporary guardianship that ended when he turned eighteen?”
“It does not,” Cleary said pleasantly. “Dr. Alvarez?”
