Page 36 of A Fragile Enchantment

“I’m going to bed.”

He rose from his chair and brushed past her. Niamh knew she should not regret driving him off, just as she should not wonder at what he meant. Ending any acquaintance between them, retreating behind the veil of professionalism, was the wise choice. The right choice. And yet…

Once you strip off all those thorns, he’s not so bad,Sinclair had told her once. Life had been so much simpler before she believed him.

11

Niamh could not stop thinking about Lovelace.

They had not replied to her yet. It had been just over twelve hours, but her mind turned and turned in circles. Perhaps they hadn’t received her letter. Perhaps her refusal warranted no reply. Or perhaps Sofia had seen her outside after all, and a contingent of the Kings Guard would soon arrive to arrest her for sedition. Of course, they likely would have done so already, but—

“What’s on your mind?”

Niamh startled, pricking her finger with her embroidery needle. “Gah!”

Miriam’s eyes widened with concern. “Goodness. My apologies.”

She placed her finger in her mouth, and the taste of blood bloomed bright and metallic on her tongue. She really must focus onbeing more pleasant company—especially because she very much doubted she should have been here at all. Today had been meant for Kit and Rosa to become acquainted with each other, but Kit invited Sinclair, and Sinclair invitedher(via his calling card, tucked into the most stunning bouquet of red roses—well, the only bouquet of red roses—she’d ever received), and Rosa, not to be outdone or outnumbered, invited Miriam. Thus: the five of them, their very own motley crew.

“No, no.Iam sorry,” Niamh said. “I was elsewhere for a few moments.”

“Understandable,” said Miriam, smiling wryly. “It is a grim day.”

In truth, it was a gorgeous day, the kind made for languid summer daydreams. Niamh couldn’t abide stillness, but if one must be still, there were far worse places to endure it.

Eye Park sprawled before them, glorious and green and utterly thronged with people. Niamh loved it—the frenetic energy humming like bees over the wildflowers, the breathless urgency of a season that would soon come to an end. She longed to capture it in thread.

Carriages and horses tore down the gravel roads. Groups of friends wandered the grounds in gem-bright clothes, their noses buried in scandal sheets, their lips stained with water ices, their laughter rolling over the sunlit fields. The branches of a tree spread like a loom above her, heavy with limes and perfuming the air with its bright citrus scent. And just beside them, the River Norling rushed by, sparkling and enchanted in the afternoon light.

Miriam clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Miss O’Connor, are you still bleeding?”

“Huh?” She glanced down. A bead of golden blood welled on the tip of her finger. “Oh! I suppose so.”

“Let me see.” The words were hardly out of her mouth before Miriam took Niamh’s hand in her own. Her eyes glowed withwarm light, and a shiver of magic passed between them. Heat pulsed in her hand, and just like that, the fresh sting of Niamh’s wound dissipated. “There.”

Niamh turned her palm over, stunned. “You have an ceird? I mean, divine blood? Oh, bother, what do you call it in Castilia?”

“Miracle work.” Her eyes twinkled. “Did you know this magic is what brought Rosa into my life? My mother saved the queen’s life—and Rosa’s—in childbirth. After that, she was given a position in court as the royal physician, and I was raised among the nobility. That is its own sort of miracle.”

“As a commoner?” Niamh marveled.

“And as a Siradi,” she added.

There were not many Siradim in Machland, but one family, the Pereiras, had settled in Caterlow. They arrived many years before Niamh was born, fleeing from religious persecution in Castilia. Some Machlish steered their children away from them on the street, but they’d shown Niamh nothing but kindness. When the weather grew cold and the nights stretched longer, she would light their hearth once a week, on the day they could not work, in exchange for the most delicious bread she’d ever eaten. She thought of candles burning softly in their windows—and most of all, their exquisite, sashed robes, embroidered all in gold.

“The Siradim have been expelled from Castilia many times before, and Rosa’s father has not always tolerated us. He terrifies me. Even Rosa is afraid to disappoint or disobey him. The only time I’ve ever seen her stand up to him was on my behalf.” Her expression grew wistful. “She has always been protective of me. I suspect that is the real reason she has brought me with her. Of course, she would never admit to such sentimentality.”

Niamh’s heart squeezed with unexpected tenderness. “She wants to keep you close.”

“What she wants is to see me married off to some Avlishman,” Miriam replied, both fond and exasperated. “I’ve told her I have nointerest in marriage, but she can be quite stubborn when she sets her mind to something.”

“I don’t have trouble seeing that.” Niamh laughed softly. “So you do not want to be an Avlishman’s wife. What would you like to do instead?”

“I want to open a clinic and provide medical care for those in need.”

“I think that would be a wonderful thing.”

“It’s my duty.” Miriam pulled up a handful of grass and let it fall back to the earth. “God acted through my mother the day she saved Rosa, and he has protected us since. I live with the guilt of it every day, the knowledge that so many suffer where I have not. And yet, I cannot help thinking I lived because I was meant to use my station to do more. If I could influence a noble to do something…”