“Lady Cosgrave’s private property, actually,” I said, “and she won’t be happy when she discovers what your work’s done to her politicalnegotiations.”
“What?” He shook his head impatiently. “Never mind. Just get out! If I don’t get a handle on thissoon—”
“Lost control of the spell, have you?” Wrexham wandered into the center of the room, inspecting the assorted elements with an apparently casual interest. His gaze passed idly across a pile of undergarments andbooks.
A stranger would never have been able to pinpoint the moment when he found exactly what he was looking for. But I’d been reading Wrexham’s expressions foryears.
Luton gave a furious start as Wrexham plucked a single piece of paper from the pile. “Don’t you dare touch my notes, youPhilistine!”
“‘The process of bringing about unnatural snow,’” Wrexham read aloud. His eyebrows rose slightly as he read silently down the rest of the page. “Interesting. I wouldn’t have guessed at some ofthese...”
“You ignorant ass! You have no idea what you’re talking about. Bloodytypicalestablishment arrogance! Here.” Holding out a peremptory hand, Luton snapped out a spell I recognized—but the paper didn’t budge from Wrexham’s fingers. Instead, as Wrexham continued to read the page with calm concentration, the backfire from Luton’s spell sent the younger man skidding backward across the clutteredfloor.
He had to catch himself on the windowsill behind him...and I didn’t even try to restrain my smug smile as I watched him struggle to recapture his balance while staring at Wrexham with openshock.
So much for condescending to myfiancé!
Unlike some magicians, Wrexham had never bothered to brag about his abilities.Hedidn’t need to. Unlike Luton, he hadn’t had a wealthy family to buy his way into the Great Library—only his own fierce talent and ambition, which had won him his deserved place over other men who were far higher-born and better-connected.
And it was remarkably satisfying to watch Luton take in the full force of hismisconceptions.
But the shock on the younger man’s face didn’t last for long. He scowled as he righted himself, releasing the windowsill with a low growl. “Damn it! Wrack—Wreck—whatever the hell your name is—I’m in the midst of the most important work of my life! Can’t you see that?” He braced himself like a bull, shoulders lowered, preparing to rush forward for a physical attack. “You may be too stodgy-headed to understand, but if you don’t let me finish without any moreinterruptions—”
“Not a chance,” I said firmly as Luton slammed into an invisible wall several inches from my fiancé and went crashing to the ground. “Trust me,” I told him, stepping forward to look down on his prone figure, “I don’t care for the one elf-lord I’ve met any more than I care for you on first acquaintance—but we still can’t allow you to break our treaty. It’s kept this nation and our people safe for centuries, and we willnotstand by while one arrogant boy breaks it for his own selfishreasons.”
“You thinkI’vebroken a treaty?” Rolling over, he stared up at me from the floor where he’d landed atop a pile of crumpled cravats and coats. “Are youmad?”
“Harwood,” said Wrexham quietly, “I think you’d better read this list before you go any further. I’d like your opinion on it, if youplease.”
“Hmm.” I twitched it out of his hand and frowned as I read impatiently down it. One method after another...and another...and another... “But these are contradictory,” I said. “They would never worktogether.”
“Of course not!” Luton snarled. “None of them worked in the first place, as you’d know if you knewanythingabout weather wizardry outside of the meaningless nonsense that’s babbled at the Great Libraryand—”
“Clearly,somethingworked,” I said to Wrexham, ignoring the continued snarling from the floor beneath us. “But if it wasn’t any of the methods on thislist...”
With a whisper of a spell, Wrexham raised his head. Every piece of paper in the room lifted itself carefully from beneath piled clothing and books and flew in a shower like white, fluttering snowflakes through the air to his waitinghands.
Luton crossed his arms, settling himself into his position on the floor with what looked like grim satisfaction. “There’s no use in looking through those,” he informed us. “Not unless you want to batter at your own heads as much as I’ve battered at mine these past few days. I’m nearly there, though, or I could be—if I could ever get uninterrupted time to bloodythinkin thismadhouse!”
Wrexham shuffled through the pages, his frowndeepening.
I didn’t even try to read over his shoulder. Instead, I met the furious, trapped gaze of youngLuton.
I knew that fury all too well. I recognized it with every instinct in my body...and it sent a sick certainty sinking through mygut.
My shoulders sagged as I gave in toreality.
“You didn’t cast this snow spell after all,” I murmured. “Someone else did, didn’t they? And it’s driving you wild that you can’t even understand how it waspossible.”
“Iwillwork it out,” Luton gritted through his teeth. “Damn it! If one of those hidebound traditional idiots can do it despite everything we were ever taught, thenso can I.And when I do, everyone at the Great Library will have to admit that they were fools about meandabout weather wizardry! If I couldonly...”
But I didn’t wait to find out what heonlyneeded in order to accomplish the impossible. I’d made more than enough of those statements myself, this past year, to learn the true value of all ofthem.
I turned for the door, unable tospeak.
Wrexham lingered a little longer, his voice steady as I closed my cold fingers around the door handle. “In your professional opinion, Mr. Luton, could a magician who isn’t a weather wizard have donethis?”
Luton’s bark of laughter was ragged with frustration. “Do what the Great Library claims to be impossible, you mean? What every weather wizard who’s trained all their life could never manage, even workingen masse? You really are mad, aren’tyou?”
