“Yes, but I haven’t.”
“And what does that mean?”
Her head tilted, like a curious bird. “Why, it means I’m going to train you, of course.”
Chapter Forty-five
There was a claw-footed bathtub in my bedroom. It was just sitting there, in between the bed and the door, getting in the way. But I’d never been so happy to see anything in my life.
I filled that sucker almost to the brim with water so hot it would make a sauna envious and climbed in. It was the weirdest sensation. I knew it was hot; the amount of steam coming off the surface, which had already fogged up the full-length mirror on the side of a wardrobe, was enough to show that. But it didn’t feel that way.
Or, rather, it did, but it didn’t matter. The cold refused to budge. To the point that I was sitting there with my skin rosy and about to slough off, yet I was shivering and shaking like I was in the middle of the storm outside.
Even worse, I’d forgotten about my wound, which a kind medic had bandaged up for me that morning but which was now stinging like a bitch. But it was just going to have to deal with it, because I wasn’t getting out. Not until I warmed up, if I ever did.
The soggy bandage had partly peeled off, so I finished pulling it away and examined my stiches. I couldn’t see them too well. Electric lights were everywhere downstairs, but the reno hadn’t yet extended up here. The only light was a kerosene lantern on the bedside table that the initiate who’d led me up here had brought. It made the water look almost black, with little yellow-tipped waves. I couldn’t see much past it, and finally gave up.
It didn’t feel like I was bleeding to death.
I lay back against the porcelain and shut my eyes, letting waves of shivers run through me. I didn’t understand what was going on. It wasn’t withdrawal; there hadn’t been time for that. And besides, I knew exactly what that felt like.
In the aftermath of the whole thing in Wales, I’d had nausea, trembling, muscle aches, and a whole host of other symptoms, none of which I’d understood. I just thought I’d caught a sixth-century case of the flu. Until I took a hit of the Tears, because I had things to do and I felt so damned bad.
And, suddenly, I didn’t anymore.
It hadn’t been hard to figure out after that. But breaking the habit had been a lot more difficult. Not because I liked having to use a crutch, but because there just wasn’t enough of me to go around these days. And now . . .
God, now.
I opened my eyes to watch the lamplight flicker on the ceiling, but I wasn’t seeing it. I was seeing Jo. I’d never seen anyone wield so much power, not even my mother. And that was while using Chimera, a spell that should have halved her ability to channel the Pythian energy!
It was like she’d died, but instead of becoming a ghost, she’d become a god. It should have taken a few dozen Pythias to manage what she’d done with apparent ease. And then had enough strength left to almost kill me!
Even with the Black Circle’s help, I didn’t know how she’d managed it. I had a huge amount of power, too, but my weak human body could only channel so much of it. The same limitation should have been on her even if she’d conjured herself up a new one, yet it didn’t look that way.
I was thankful for Gertie’s offer, but I didn’t think any amount of training would allow me to overcome that.
And neither did Jo.
Whatever she said, she wanted me dead. She just wanted to enjoy it first. But if she thought there was any chance she was going to lose . . .
I’d be dead already.
Although I felt kind of like it anyway, like a damned frozen corpse, because the water wasn’t helping. My skin had flushed red enough that it was visible even in the low lighting, but the ice at my center hadn’t budged. I was freezing, and I didn’t know why.
I finally sat up in the bath, my arms wrapped around myself, my teeth chattering. I was so cold I hurt, a bone-deep ache that had me wanting to tear at my skin in order to reach it, to make it stop. It was so bad that I found myself sobbing after a while, and feeling ridiculous but not caring. I finally decided to hell with it; the court had to have a healer on call, and I clearly needed one. Even if it came with another lecture from Gertie.
I started trying to crawl out of the bath, but my muscles were spasming and ignoring my commands, and the porcelain side of the tub suddenly seemed a mile high. All my thrashing did was send a wave of soapy water over the edge, hitting the hardwood floor and leaking toward the door. The one I couldn’t reach.
But I didn’t have to. Because someone was already pounding on it, something I hadn’t noticed in my distress, and when I made some sort of incoherent noise it burst open. Pritkin was standing there, silhouetted by the light leaking up the nearby stairs, his hair and the long coat he’d found somewhere dusted with snow, his face furious.
Until he saw me.
I couldn’t even say “help,” although I tried. But nothing came out except for a vague whimper. It would have been embarrassing another time, but I was way past caring. I held an arm out to him, sudsy and shaking and—
And then he was there, kneeling by the side of the tub.
He was cold, but not like the burning, horrible ache that was eating me alive. He was human-warm under all the snow, maybe more so than usual because he was breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way back here. And when his hand took mine, I felt a little of that terrible ice fade away.