“Certainly,” said the woman, a small smile quickly flickering over her face. She drew Ana by the elbow to a table in the corner, waited for her to sit, staring intently at her through the thick rings of her eyeglasses, then sat opposite her. “I’m so pleased that you received my letter and came. I’ve been very curious to meet you.”
“And I you!” Ana felt a strange nervousness flood her, unrelated to the nervous energy she’d been swimming in since she’d received the letter. She felt quite sure she’d never seen the woman before, but there was about her a vague familiarity, as if she were someone Ana had met in a dream, or another life. “Can you tell me more about this gentleman, this man you think might be my father?”
“I’m happy to, but I really must caution you—we haven’t much time to waste! The doctor said he was suffering from shock in addition to multiple wounds on his body, likely incurred in the war. They are mostly healed but have taken much from him. If he doesn’t reorient himself through the loving care of those dear to him, he may be lost. And his heart is very delicate—you came unaccompanied by your husband, as I asked?” The woman looked toward the door, squinting through the crowd.
“I did. I’m prepared to journey with you—but please, one moment.” She closed her eyes and thought. What would Dex, with his steady practicality and cutting logic, require of the moment? What would he do to strike to the heart of the matter? “Can yougive me any more details that might make me certain it is my own father? I imagine there are many veterans of the war with daughters named Anne or Anna...”
There was that small smile again, almost furtive. There and then gone.
The woman ducked her head, nodding solemnly. “So wise, you are, to ask. One can’t be too cautious. A noble lady like yourself would naturally need further proof before venturing on such a quest. There are evil characters in this world that would drag a blossom like yourself through filth if they had half a chance! Here—this was the only possession he had on his person the day my friends encountered him. He passed it along willingly, understanding that it might help reunite him with his beloved Anna.”
She reached inside the capacious coat, and for a second, Ana caught a jarring glimpse of purple silk inside, incongruously bright against the sensible brown wool, and then it was gone. The woman’s hand emerged, holding out a thin gold chain with something round at the end of it that caught the low light and flashed green fire into the tavern gloom.
The ring her father had worn always on a chain around his neck. Her mother’s small gold ring with one emerald set in the middle. A match to the set she owned.
She took the ring from Margerie, running her thumb wonderingly over the sparkling green stone, holding it to the light to read the initials etched on the inside. The woman watched her, unblinking, from beneath her bonnet, the sparrow feathers puffing slightly into the air with each controlled breath she made.
“This is my mother’s ring, that my father wore always about his neck. It’s truly him.” This woman was an honest Good Samaritan. She’d handed over the ring readily, when she could have kept itfor herself and never contacted Ana at all. Heart pounding a joyful rhythm, she slipped the chain over her head, nestling the ring inside her bodice. “I’m ready to go to him. I’m ready to find my father.”
The woman was on her feet before she finished, urging her up from the table. She conducted Ana through the room, paused to pass a sum of money to the barkeep with a nod, moving with a purposeful swiftness that was at odds with her meek demeanor.
She fairly pushed Ana out into the daylight and propelled her down the street, turning several times, exhorting Ana to move quickly, to make haste. Ana felt as if she were floating, borne along by a strong current in an ocean. It was happening so quickly. She barely had time to think of Dex and wish he were here, after all, before the woman practically shoved her into a low carriage, crowded in behind her, and shut the door.
Darkness. In the momentary stillness that followed, before the handkerchief with its achingly oversweet smell was pressed to her nose, Ana was struck by a sudden memory.
“That necklace was a beauty!”Miss Flanagan’s voice from far away, a lifetime ago. Miss Flanagan, who had a key to her room. Miss Flanagan, who had seen the emerald necklace, who could have read the letters from her father and heard tell of the matching ring he wore around his neck. Miss Flanagan, who had greedy fingers. And a sister, Maggie.
“Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Ana,” said the woman, with a wide, voracious grin, as Ana collapsed onto the hard cushions of the carriage. “Maggie Flanagan’s my name. You deserve what’s finally coming to you, make no mistake.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You! Aren’t you done meddling in my life?” Qavox fixed his whirling eyes on the ephemeral image of Gaethryn, floating in the air in front of him in the gloom of the cave. “What do you mean Amsonia needs my help? She needs help from no one. She has your magic.”
“There are some things that mere magic cannot fix. Amsonia needs your fire, Qavox. You were her captor and protector, now go to her and do what a dragon does best!”
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
The Thunderbolt Club was quiet that afternoon, and Dex was enormously grateful. He’d arrived with a bundle under his arms, having made a quick stop at Norwood & Pennington, and meant to find a solitary nook in which to examine his prize.
He was hailed by several acquaintances, forced into a few conversations. He’d made, he hoped, the appropriate sounds. He’d swallowed the libations offered him, shook the hands proffered.
He’d hoped, as he’d been hoping since he’d left Drakefell, that contact with his old life, his solitary Ana-less life, would shake him back into place, make him feel like himself again.
It hadn’t happened yet. The numbness that he craved never arrived. Nor could he silence her lively voice ringing in his ears.
I need life—beautiful, awful, messy, heartbreaking life! And I’ll have it with or without you.
He couldn’t bury the memory of the tears shining in her eyes. He’d left her crying. Turned his back when he wanted to sweep her into his arms and never let her go.
Since the war, he’d been alone by choice. Now it was devastating, the loneliness. A deep, dark cavern from the bottom of which he could just barely make out the faces of those around him. He saw now that his life before Ana had been a barren, solitary existence with no one to challenge him, no one to tease him, and no one to... love him.
He tossed back a tumbler of brandy. Love. Something he’d sworn didn’t truly exist. He’d thought he loved Celestia and she’d cast his heart aside easily and chosen his brother. Her words had rung true, though. Perhaps he’d never truly known her. She’d been his childhood love, and then the beautiful shining beacon he’d fought for during the war. An icon purely of his own creation.
Here. He laid his palm against the thick stack of pages crammed with words that had flowed from Ana’s passionate and imaginative mind. Here was something solid to hold on to, a chance to see inside the dreams of the woman he’d married. In this deep leather chair partially obscured by an enormous potted fern, with just enough light coming in from the window behind it to illuminate the manuscript, he would readThe Dragon and the Blue Star. It was the only piece of Ana accessible to him in London.
Hours later, the light had faded to the point where he had to bend over and piece the words together. He was nearly to the end. It was good. It was better than good. It was strange, lyrical, dark,at times hilarious. It called to his dormant imagination, long put to bed because it persisted in conjuring battlefield scenes, and bade it to soar with hers, to see the mythical land of Vyranthrall beneath him.
The castles, the forests, the mountain cave. The creatures—ogres, talking hedgehogs, mages, that dragon! The dragon fascinated him. He felt a kinship with it; the obvious similarity between its literal cave and his metaphorical one pleased him. Dex and Qavox. They could be twins. Scars and scales. Similar protective layers.