But the brawling mages are between me and the door. The window is too high. If I dive under the bed, they will be able to drag me out easily. Any minute now, they are going to remember that they are friends and all this anger is going to be directed at me.

My body moves. My mind blasts out a wave of heat to quell down the fire. I’m scrambling up the chimney, but it is too small. I can’t get very far. But here is good enough. Here is safe. The heat of my magic is keeping the heat of the bricks away from me. No one can reach me.

It’s finally over. A lifetime of pain and failure and rejection. Of fear and danger. For the first time in my life, I’m finally somewhere that feels safe.

I just need to stay here forever. And ever and ever.

Everything is finally, finally, really and truly going to be okay.

Chapter ten

Drew

The morning sunlight is dazzling my eyes. I wince and try to angle my head away from the window. I’m never drinking again.

The wet blanket over the fire is steaming slightly. Soft sniffling is coming from the chimney. I’m glad he isn’t sobbing anymore. The utterly forlorn sound was tearing my heart to pieces.

“Lucien, please come down,” I try again softly.

Even though my voice is rasping from all the thousands of times I’ve already said those words.

“Gregory is gone, it’s just me.”

That’s probably not much consolation. I’m not any better than Gregory. I’ve been a vile asshole. I’ve treated Lucien poorly. He has no reason to trust me or feel safe in my presence. As proven by the broken way he was crying. The sound of which will haunt me forever.

The door opens and I turn to see Katy leading the healer in. A deep sigh of relief escapes me.

“Henderson, thank you so much for coming!” I exclaim.

The healer smiles broadly as he places his black bag down on a side table. “No problem at all, I’m glad to be of service.”

A sniffle comes from the chimney, and some debris falls down onto the steaming blanket. Henderson’s eyebrows lift.

“What happened?”

I swallow. “Lucien…became very upset and dashed up the chimney. I quickly put out the flames with magic, and then a wet blanket to be sure, but the bricks must be scalding and he won’t come down. I’m worried he is badly burned.”

Doubts swirl through my mind, but I need to push them aside. Of course it was me who put out the fire. It cannot have been Lucien. Vessels cannot wield their magic, it is one of the fundamental principles of life. I must have been even drunker than I realized.

“What set him off?” asks the healer.

Shame, horror and a deep, deep regret clog up my throat. Despite what the laws may say, Lucien is not my property. I had no right. I can’t breathe, but I force out the words anyway.

“Being shared.”

I’m never ever drinking again. I didn’t even know I had such a dark and twisted part of my soul, and if alcohol releases it, then never again. Such darkness needs to stay chained.

Something glitters across Henderson’s eyes and it does not look like disapproval. Whatever it is I am seeing, it is making my gut twist uncomfortably.

“I see,” says the healer, and he begins to pull small jars of herbs out of his bag. “I’ll mix a sedative and set the smoke up the chimney, then we can see what’s what.”

He hums merrily as he mixes pungent smelling herbs together in a mortar bowl. Then he grinds them with a pestle.

“All done. Now if you get ready to catch him,” he says cheerfully.

I nod and step up to the fireplace. The healer ignites his mixture with a sharp zing of magic and waves the bowl at the base of the chimney. I stretch my arms out over the gently steaming blanket.

The smoke is thick and tinged with a green hue. It billows up the chimney in thick coils. Lucien coughs and then there is movement. He falls into my arms amongst a cloud of debris and soot. I catch him and pull him to my chest. His nightgown is torn in places and rather sooty, but I can’t see any burns.

He is limp and pliant in my embrace and part of me likes it far too much.

“Looks like he has been lucky,” Henderson says as he peers at Lucien. “Take him to his bed, if you would, so I may get a proper look at him.”

I nod and start walking. Lucien stirs. His bright green eyes fix on me. Hazy and unfocused, but still burning with intensity.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

My grip on him tightens, and I walk a little faster. He is a warm, slender weight in my arms and part of me never wants to let him go.

“I’ll be good. I don’t need the healer! Please!” he wails.

Henderson tuts loudly and Lucien flinches in my arms and clings to me.

“My condolences, Count Felford,” says Henderson. “As if being lumbered with a frigid vessel was not bad enough, but one that is loose witted too? How unfortunate.”

What the hell is Henderson talking about? Frigid? Lucien isn’t frigid. Both times I’ve been with him, I’ve been addled by Husband’s Tea, but I would know that. I know I would.

Katy opens the door to Lucien’s bedchamber and I carefully place my vessel down on his bed. But his hands twist in my clothes and hold on to me. His eyes are wide and frantic and his skin far too pale.

“Please!” he implores.

Something ancient and primal within me stirs. A desire to protect. To be needed. To guard what is mine.

“None of that!” snaps Henderson as he roughly pulls Lucien’s hands away from me.

Lucien’s green eyes turn to the healer, and he cowers.

“Come now. I know you can behave,” Henderson says. “I don’t want to have to restrain you.”

I’m so confused. Henderson is acting as if he has seen Lucien before. And what is with this frigid accusation? That’s quite a leap of a diagnosis to make with one quick glance at a person. Nevermind that it is an antiquated and quite ridiculous term. Is Henderson assuming this because Lucien was scared enough to hide up a chimney?

That’s quite a stretch. Even though it is considered acceptable in some circles, many people would not be happy to be shared. Even perfectly behaving little vessels like Lucien.

Henderson starts stripping off the remains of my vessel’s nightgown. Lucien sucks in a breath and then goes limp. His dazzling eyes go dull, as if all his light has been extinguished. He stares up at the bed canopy. Tears brim and then silently fall.

Uneasiness coils around my gut. Something about Lucien’s complete surrender seems worse than his pleading. There is an utter hopelessness to it that is tearing at my soul.

Lucien is not in his right mind at the moment, but I swear there is still something off about his reaction to the healer.