Page 69 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
"I, er, of course I do. I'm sorry for implying otherwise."
"Then let's speak no more of it." He turned to the window but his gaze seemed unfocused. Something about last night bothered him.
"I do remember something else," I said.
His head snapped around so fast that it was a blur. "Yes?"
His intense interest unnerved me and it took a moment to regain my composure. "It's regarding the fight you had with Gordon."
He let out a measured breath. Had he been expecting me to mention something else? Something from later in the night, when he put me to bed?
"It might be nothing," I went on. "It's just that I've noticed how keen your instincts are in a fight. You seem to anticipate blows a moment before they happen. It gives you a definite advantage against a stronger opponent like Gordon."
"Visual cues," he said. "You'll learn to look for them too with practice."
"I doubt it's something one can learn. I've seen Seth and Gus fight one another and their instincts aren't as good as yours."
"What are you implying?"
I swallowed heavily. His steely tone dared me to say it aloud. Dared me to accuse him of something quite extraordinary. I wasn't sure I was up to taking the dare if it meant getting on his bad side, but I'd come this far. It was too late to back away now.
"It's not just in a fight," I forged on. "You often anticipate when someone is about to ask you something, or come to your rooms. You also win at cards and dice much too often to put it down to luck. It's an uncanny gift." I cleared my throat, determined not to wither beneath that frosty stare of his. "Uncanny to the point of supernatural."
He searched my face until finally his gaze settled on mine. I tumbled headlong into the endless depths of his eyes, and I didn't care. Didn't want to escape. Time seemed to stop. We might as well have been in another world inside the carriage. The outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of us, connected by a charge more powerful than an electrical current.
He leaned forward and my heart ground to a halt. Would he kiss me? Berate me?
But he simply rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. Unruly strands of hair fell across his face.
"What is it?" I dared ask. "What have I said?"
He half shook his head, or perhaps he was merely turning away. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No one has ever noticed that about me before."
"And?" I whispered.
"And I am coming to terms with the fact that you have noticed."
Was that a good thing or bad? I couldn't tell from his reaction. My observation had shaken him, however, and that was something. The unflappable Lincoln Fitzroy was rattled—by me.
"But…what does it mean?" I asked.
He leaned back again and once more held my gaze with his own. "It means you have discovered a secret I've kept from everyone my entire life. Even from the general."
CHAPTER 12
"What secret?" I asked, hardly daring to breathe.
"I've inherited something other than my coloring from my mother." Lincoln grunted softly. "At least, I think it's from her. I doubt it's from my father."
He was talking as if I knew more than I did about his parents, but I didn't want to interrupt him to ask for details. It was so rare for him to talk at all, I didn't want to startle him into stopping.
"Go on," was all I said.
"She may have been a seer."
Good lord! "But you're not sure?"
He shook his head. "I found a reference to her in the ministry archives. At least, I think the woman mentioned was my mother. The general wouldn't answer my questions when I asked."
