Laughter and chatter followed our family out the door. Matthew handed Becca off to Sarah.
“Don’t be long, you two,” Sarah said.
Once we were alone, Matthew kissed me with a sharp hunger that gradually became something deeper and less desperate. It was a reminder that his blood rage was still not fully in check and my being away had taken a toll.
“Was everything all right in Venice, mon coeur?” he inquired when he had regained his equilibrium.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I said. “Though I should warn you: Gerbert is up to no good. He tried to thwart me at every turn.”
“What did you expect?” Matthew left my side to join the rest of the family. “Don’t worry about Gerbert. We’ll figure out what game he’s playing, never fear.”
Something unexpected caught my eye. I stopped in my tracks.
“Diana?” Matthew looked back at me and frowned. “Are you coming?”
“In a minute,” I promised.
He regarded me strangely but stepped outside.
I knew you would be the first to see me. Philippe’s voice was a whisper of sound, and I could still see Ysabeau’s horrid furniture through him. None of that mattered. He was perfect—whole, smiling, his eyes sparkling with amusement and affection.
“Why me?” I asked.
You have the Book of Life now. You no longer need my help. Philippe’s gaze met mine.
“The covenant—” I started.
I heard. I hear most things. Philippe’s grin widened. I am proud that it was one of my children that destroyed it. You have done well.
“Is seeing you my reward?” I said, fighting back the tears.
One of them, Philippe said. In time you will have the others.
“Emily.” The moment I said her name, Philippe’s form began to fade. “No! Don’t go. I won’t ask questions. Just tell her I love her.”
She knows that. So does your mother. Philippe winked. I am utterly surrounded by witches. Do not tell Ysabeau. She would not like it.
I laughed.
And there is my reward for years of good behavior. Now, I want no more tears, do you understand? His finger rose. I am heartily sick of them.
“What do you want instead?” I wiped at my eyes.
More laughter. More dancing. His expression was mischievous. And more grandchildren.
“I had to ask,” I said with another laugh.
But the future will not be all laughter, I fear. Philippe’s expression sobered. Your work is not done, daughter. The goddess asked me to give this back to you. He held out the same gold-and-silver arrow that I had shot into Benjamin’s heart.
“I don’t want it.” I backed away, my hand raised to ward off this unwanted gift.
I didn’t want it either, and yet someone must see that justice is done. His arm extended farther.
“Diana?” Matthew called from outside.
I would not be hearing my husband’s voice if not for the goddess’s arrow.
“Coming!” I called back.
Philippe’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. I touched the golden point hesitantly. The moment my flesh made contact with it, the arrow vanished and I felt its heavy weight at my back once more.
From the first moment we met, I knew you were the one, Philippe said. His words were a strange echo of what Timothy Weston had told me at the Bodleian last year, and again at his house.
With a final grin, his ghost began to dissipate.
“Wait!” I cried. “The one what?”
The one who could bear my burdens and not break, Philippe’s voice whispered in my ear. I felt a subtle press of lips on my cheek. You will not carry them alone. Remember that, daughter.
I bit back a sob at his departure.
“Diana?” Matthew called again, this time from the doorway. “What’s happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I had, but this was not the time to tell Matthew about it. I felt like weeping, but Philippe wanted joy, not sorrow.
“Dance with me,” I said, before a single tear could fall.
Matthew folded me into his arms. His feet moved across the floor, sweeping us out of the salon and into the great hall. He asked no questions, even though the answers were in my eyes.
I trod on his toe. “Sorry.”
“You’re trying to lead again,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to my lips, then whirled me around. “At the moment your job is to follow.”
“I forgot,” I said with a laugh.
“I’ll have to remind you more often, then.” Matthew swung me tight to his body. His kiss was rough enough to be a warning and sweet enough to be a promise.
Philippe was right, I thought as we walked out into the garden.
Whether leading or following, I would never be alone in a world that had Matthew in it.
Sol in Gemini
The signe of Gemini dealeth with the partnership between a husband and wife, and all matters that dependeth likewise upon faith. A man born in this sign hath a good and honest heart and a fine wit that will lead him to learn many things. He will be quick to anger, but soon to reconcile. He is bold of speech even before the prince. He is a great dissimulator, a spreader abroad of clever fantasies and lies. He shall be much entangled with troubles by reason of his wife, but he shall prevail against their enemies.
—Anonymous English Commonplace Book, c. 1590,
Gonçalves Manuscript 4890, f. 8r
I’m sorry to disturb you, Professor Bishop.”
I looked up from my manuscript. The Royal Society’s reading room was flooded with summer sunshine. It raked through the tall, multipaned windows and spilled across the generous reading surfaces.
“One of the fellows asked me to give this to you.” The librarian handed me an envelope with the Royal Society’s insignia on it. Someone had written my name across the front in a dark, distinctive scrawl. I nodded in thanks.
Philippe’s ancient silver coin—the one he sent to make sure that someone returned home or obeyed his commands—was inside. I’d found a new use for it, one that was helping Matthew manage his blood rage while I returned to a more active life. My husband’s condition was steadily improving after his ordeal with Benjamin but his mood was still volatile and his anger quick to catch. A full recovery would take time. If Matthew felt his need for me rising to dangerous levels, all he had to do was send me this coin, and I would join him right away.