Page 56 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
"No," I said drily.
"And I won't let that happen to you, unless you wish to relocate to a tropical island paradise."
I smiled, despite myself. "Lichfield will do nicely for now."
"I'm glad to hear it." His rich, deep voice washed over me, and my smile broadened. He blinked once, then looked down at his lap where his hands bunched into fists. The tender moment was over so quickly, I wondered if I'd misread him this time.
"Why did the order become dormant?" I prompted. "Did it destroy so many supernaturals that few were left and it was no longer needed?"
"That's one theory, but it's more likely it suffered the same fate as the Roman Catholic church here. It was closely tied to the faith, so when England navigated the Reformation in the sixteenth century and ousted Catholics, the order fell into disarray. It was forgotten by everyone but a few who kept the records and stories alive. A handful of caretakers were appointed in each generation, passing on the information to their sons, who would pass it on to their sons, et cetera."
"The current committee members are descendants of the original caretakers?"
He nodded. "I had no choice in their selection. No one did."
"You said sons. What about Lady Harcourt? Does she not have brothers?"
"Lady Harcourt's late husband was the committee member. He didn't pass on the information to his sons, but to his wife. She doesn't know why, but it's possible he didn't trust his sons to be discreet."
Having met Andrew Buchanan, I could see why he thought that. "Why didn't one of the generations resurrect the old order and put it to use again? Why wait until now?"
"They were waiting for me."
I raised my brows.
"Apparently there was a prophecy, spoken by a seer in the mid fifteen hundreds. She foresaw the long years of the order's dormancy, which would come to an end in this century, when a new leader was appointed. She gave particular details about him." He held out his hands, palm up. "It turned out to be me."
How extraordinary, and rather intriguing, too. It made me think of old fairytales with curses, prophecies and evil witches. It even had a knight in shining armor—Lincoln. The story only lacked a princess.
"And so you were brought up in the general's home, trained from birth to be the leader."
He nodded. "He was the eldest member. He had no family of his own and so was considered the ideal candidate."
"But he was never home."
"Precisely. It was deemed best if I didn't become attached to anyone."
I blinked at him. Not become attached? But little children needed to feel a sense of belonging and nurturing. I'd seen it in the gangs, with the youngest members. They often attached themselves to a champion who took care of them and provided for them, even loved them. It was human instinct. "Were the servants like a family to you?"
"They were often moved along before I could make friends."
"Oh, Lincoln."
His hands balled into fists on his knees. His lips flattened and I decided not to tell him that I thought his childhood sounded desolate. He would hate my pity. So I asked a more impersonal question instead. "Wouldn't a seer be considered a supernatural and therefore a target of the caretaker committee?"
"That's the irony. Her prophecy not only kept the order dormant for so long, but it perhaps had a hand in changing the position of the caretakers. I couldn't find any reference in the archives to her being punished for her prophecy. It stated the new leader would even use magic to defeat dark forces that want to bring the realm to its knees."
"Good lord. Do you think she meant Frankenstein?"
"Perhaps. He certainly could have caused great harm if he'd managed to build an army of strong corpses."
"And if my necromancy is considered magic, then that fits too." I waited for him to add more, but he didn't. It seemed I would have to broach the subject instead. "Did your mother let you go freely?"
"I don't know. The general has told me so little about her."
"What do you know?"
"That she fell pregnant at a young age and wasn't married. That removing me from her was a blessing, for both her and me. She couldn't have afforded to raise me, apparently, and I would have lived a life of squalor."
