“You can’t. You won’t. The earl would destroy you.”
Lord Downpike’s hand encircles my wrist in a viselike grip. I try to pull away but he shakes his head. “Careful now. That special glove of yours might come off if you struggle much more. Walk with me like a civilized person, not some rampaging savage.” Keeping his bruising hold, he tucks my hand in the crook of his elbow, walking at a leisurely pace I am forced to match.
“Now, never mind about the earl. I certainly don’t. If his niece were to succumb to a sudden wasting disease, who could blame me? I have nothing but the girl’s best interest at heart. After all, it is my job to protect Cromberg lines, to advance them. But I do think I have seen this particular curse—I mean, illness—before. Very fast-acting. She will not last the night.”
“I will kill you myself.” My voice is hoarse with hatred for him and fear for Eleanor.
“Such threats! A fierce little thing for being the helpless pet of Lord Ackerly. But we are all in luck! I know the precise magic to restore her to full health.”
I clench my jaw, hating him, wishing I could do anything but accept whatever terms he offers. “What do you want?”
“Nothing that is not already mine. Return the book you stole. It holds the exact process I need for your Eleanor. Once it is safely in my hands, I will perform the magic necessary to save her life.”
“I don’t believe you. You know how to reverse the spell.”
“Do I? Will you really risk Eleanor’s life? You could ask your dear Lord Ackerly to find the spell, but it’s such a large volume and she has so very few hours left. Ah, here we are.” He stops in the park, shielded by trees but with a view of the door to Finn’s home. “Do hurry. I can almost hear her desperate coughing from here.”
He releases my hand, and I stumble forward on leaden feet.
I cannot give back the book without losing the only insurance I have against another attack, but I cannot allow Eleanor to suffer and even die for my sake. I burst through the door, screaming for Finn. He’ll know what to do. He’ll fix Eleanor, turn Lord Downpike’s evil plan on its head.
There is no answer, so I run through the hall to the library. A note is tacked to the door.
Urgent summons from the queen. Stay in the house until I return. Please.
Yours,
Finn
Twenty-seven
I DON’T KNOW WHICH I DREAD MORE—THAT Sir Bird will be in bird form when I enter the library, or that he won’t, and I will never get to say good-bye. I push open the door to find him perched on the edge of a chair, completely back to his normal black, arranging a pile of shiny coins and buttons.
“I—” My voice catches. Sir Bird looks at me, extending and retracting his wings nervously. “I have to give you back to him. Lord Downpike. If I don’t, Eleanor will die. Do you understand?”
Sir Bird is very still and then slowly bobs his head once.
“I already owe you my own life. And if you don’t want to do this, I won’t make you. I’ll open the door and you can fly away and I’ll try to find some other way to save Eleanor.”
He hops with a flap of his wings and lands on my shoulder and then nudges my cheek with his beak. He’s giving me permission, and it breaks my heart.
“Will he hurt you?”
Sir Bird shakes his whole body from crown to tail, puffing up his feathers, then caws in his most dismissive tone.
“You are the finest, bravest creature on the whole planet.” I take a deep breath, and then have a thought. It’s a gamble at best, probably pointless, and at worst will bring down more pain and trouble on all of us. I’m already allowing Sir Bird to be sacrificed. Eleanor is dying. Can I risk it?
Is it even possible?
“If I were to write a few pages, could I put them in the book? Could you make them a part of yourself?”
He lets out an uncertain squawking sound and then hops to the table. I kiss his feathered head and stroke the length of his back. “Thank you,” I whisper, then he turns into a book.
Sabotage, sabotage. If, like Finn, Lord Downpike has to renew spells every time he uses them, then maybe I have a chance to mess with his abilities. Opening, I search frantically for anything I recognize. I cannot risk damaging a spell that might be the one Eleanor needs. If it’s even in this book. Finding pages we’d looked at earlier, I rip them out as carefully as I can, hoping Sir Bird cannot feel it. I line them up with a blank sheet of parchment and transcribe the sequences nearly identically, mimicking the pen strokes as best I can. But I make subtle changes, substitute the wrong elements, the wrong words. Fire for water, confusion for clarity, darkness for light. I alter the parts of the equations I can understand. If I had more time, if I’d been able to plan . . . But this is the best I can do.
Then I tuck the papers back into the crease and hold my breath. A series of black sparks dance along the spine, and when I pull lightly on the pages, they stay affixed.
Lord Downpike wins this round, and I only hope that he has nothing further planned right now. I pick up the book to take it out to the nightmare man, but it trembles and then pops back into Sir Bird’s form.