They did, Peter slipping his hand into hers. He was alive and he loved her. She put the park out of her mind.
“Now, then,” Hillier said, producing a miniature Brown’s Lexicon from an inner pocket and handing it to Peter, “I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell on you. You can look it up first if you’d like, under ‘H’—”
“Hycgan gesyntu?”
“Yes.” Hillier looked amused. “I suppose you get a lot of call for that in your line of work as well.”
Peter nodded. “I would have cast it on myself already but didn’t have leaves at hand until just before you arrived.”
“That’s fortunate, actually,” Hillier said, “because you shouldn’t be casting spells for at least the next week.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Why?” Peter asked, the slightest edge of a challenge there.
“You must give your body a chance to recuperate before taxing it in that way.” Hillier’s smile was gone. He looked serious. “I’ve had patients end up back in the hospital, seriously impairing their recovery, because they jumped the gun.”
She could see how that might be. She could also see how he might be making it up so Peter would have no way to defend himself.
Hillier leaned toward Beatrix, lips quirked. “We wizards can be aweebit insecure about our casting abilities, and inclined to make sure everything is all right. But,” he added to Peter, “there’s no need to worry. I’ve never had and know of no cases involving wizard patients who found themselves unable to cast after a serious illness or accident. Your body will thank you for holding off.”
She was trying to think of a place where they could squirrel Peter away for a whole week to keep him safe when Hillier cast the diagnostic spell—and Peter took on a distinctly yellow tint.
Hillier frowned. “Make thattwoweeks before you spellcast again.”
She stared at him. Twoweeks!
“Rest up,” the doctor said. “I mean it.”
Peter sighed. “I really don’t think?—”
“Look,” Hillier said quietly, “I understand this is not ideal. Of course you don’t want to forgo magic even temporarily after being attacked by a wizard.”
Beatrix glanced at Peter to see if he would show any sign of surprise, but he did not, which suggested he had overheard at least some of the discussions she’d had with police about Garrett.
“Also,” Hillier added, even more softly, “important people have told me I am to inform you that you absolutely require twenty-four-hour care, and therefore ensure that you be transferred to the WA. Regardless of how you feel about it.”
She tightened her grip on Peter’s hand.
“So, while I don’t pretend to understand what is going on, it seems to me that you would be well advised to be on your guard,” Hillier said.
“Thank you,” Peter murmured. “Did the important people saywhythey want me at the WA?”
“They did not.”
“Apologies for a blunt question,” she said, “but why tell us this instead of doing what the magiocracy demanded?”
Hillier crossed his arms. “I didn’t go through medical school to have my advice dictated to me from on high, and I’m not going to assist in anything dishonest or unjust. Ithink you’ll find within the hour that Dr. Alvarez has signed your release papers.”
He was right, bless him. Fifty minutes later, the two of them walked out of the hospital into snow flurries, Peter gripping her arm with one hand and a cane with the other.
“Free!” she cried. “Oh, frabjous day!”
He nodded, rearranging himself so he could slip his hand into hers. “I owe you a great deal, Beatrix.”
She winced. At some point, she would have to tell him why she thought Ella did what she did. But she couldn’t now, and that was one conversation she was willing to put off.
“I love you,” she said instead. “Self-interest played a rather large role.”
