Her breath went out of her in a gasp as he caught her in a hard embrace. Despite the cold night, his shirt was damp with sweat. His arms around her were strong and solid; she could feel the swift hammering of his heart. He pressed his cheek against hers, chanting her name, Daisy, Daisy, Daisy.
“I’m all right,” she said quickly. “It got on my dress, is all, but I’m perfectly all right, James—”
He let her go, looking almost abashed. “I saw that Naga demon rear back to attack you,” he said, his voice low. “I thought—”
“What was that about?” said Christopher, who had just arrived with Lucie. “I saw that Hauras demon shout at Cordelia, and then they all raced off like the devil was after them.”
“I—I’ve no idea,” Cordelia said. “I suppose it was Cortana. The Hauras demon looked terrified of it.”
“Perhaps word has spread that Cortana dealt a wound to Belial,” Lucie said, her eyes sparkling like they did when she was working on The Beautiful Cordelia. “Your sword’s reputation precedes you!”
Only James said nothing as they made their way back across the square, seeming lost in thought. Matthew had returned to the carriages to soothe the horses’ nerves. As though he could feel Cordelia’s gaze on him, he turned and looked at her, his green eyes dark. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen more back at the barrow than he had let on, but no: surely he could not have seen Wayland, could not have heard the smith speak the word “paladin” as Cordelia knelt before him.
But it was all Cordelia could think about. Around the edges of her astonishment, a wild joy was beginning to fizz upward. You have the soul of a great warrior, Wayland the Smith had said. She was a paladin now, the champion of a legendary hero, and even demons were taking notice. Suddenly she hoped that these scamps were the gossipy sort. She hoped that word would travel through the ranks of demons all the way up to Belial himself, and that he would understand that Cordelia and her sword would stand between the Prince of Hell and all her friends, defending them to the death.
* * *
It had been decided that Christopher would ride home with Daisy and James, as the Consul’s house was only a few blocks from Curzon Street and Kit wished to use the lab there to study the pithos. Lucie would go with Matthew, which suited her excellently. James tended to ask questions. Matthew, however, did not.
Lucie settled herself in Matthew’s carriage as they rattled out of Nelson Square, Matthew complaining all the while that traffic in London was bad enough without demons leaping into perfectly decent people’s vehicles. Lucie knew he was merely venting his feelings and didn’t expect an answer, so she didn’t provide one, just looked at him affectionately. His blond hair was disheveled from the fight, his jacket torn. He was looking the part of a romantic hero, if a slightly dissipated one.
The carriage lurched as they turned a corner, and Lucie realized that while she’d been lost in thought, Matthew had dropped his face into his hands. That was troubling, and not within the usual range of his moods.
“Matthew, are you quite all right?” she asked.
“Right as rain,” Matthew said unconvincingly, his words muffled by his hands.
“What are you thinking about?” Lucie asked lightly, trying a different tack.
“What it is like,” Matthew said slowly, “to be entirely undeserving of the person you love most in the world.”
“What a very sort of novelish complaint,” Lucie said, after a moment. She had no idea what to make of this dramatic statement. Wasn’t James the person Matthew loved most? Why would he have suddenly decided he didn’t deserve James? “I don’t suppose you want to tell me about it.”
“Certainly not.”
“All right, then, I have to tell you something.”
Matthew looked up. His eyes were dry, if a little red-rimmed. “Oh, Raziel,” he said, “that never portends anything good.”
“I’m not going home,” Lucie informed him. “I’d planned to stop there and then leave again, but there’s no time now. I need to get to Limehouse, and you’re going to take me there.”
“Limehouse?” Matthew looked incredulous. He ran his fingers through his curls, making them stand out even more wildly than before. “Lucie, please tell me you aren’t going back to that sailcloth factory.”
“Fear not. I’m going to Hypatia Vex’s new magic shop. I’m meeting Anna and Ariadne there, so you needn’t trouble yourself that I’ll be unattended.”