She gripped his arm to steady him. I thought you were drawing your last breath.
He swayed, but his scowl was fierce. Understand this: you will never again care whether I live or die, not when your own safety is in danger. My purpose is to guide and protect you for as long as I can, but in the end, only one of us matters, and it is not me.
He was so close, his heat seemed to soak into her. There was a small patch of dried blood he had not yet managed to wash off, an irregular-shaped smear at the base of his neck. And where hed loosened his sleeves, she could see a puncture mark on the inside of each wrist, where the extractors had pierced his skin.
A bright pain burned in her heart. She might yet save herself from falling in love with him, but she would never again be able to truly despise him.
We must get you out of the Domain this instant, he said, before the Inquisitor realizes that someone else was in the Inquisition chambersomeone with elemental powers.
He was already walkingtottering. She braced an arm around his middle.
I need
to go back to my apartment at the castle. The transmogrification potion is in my satchel. Get me to the bathtub upstairs. Then come down here and remove all evidence that might lead anyone to suspect your presence. The Inquisitor dared to come after my sanity; she could just as well invade my sanctuary.
She nodded tightly and walked faster, pulling him along.
At the bathtub, he bent down to turn on the faucets. Go. And come back fast.
She ran and did as he asked. Sprinting back upstairs, she reached the bathtub as he materialized again, this time soaking wet, holding not a flask, but what looked to be a bottle of hair tonic.
Wheres the potion?
He climbed out of the tub and pointed his wand at the hair tonic. In priorem muta.
The bottle turned into a compartmented flask. She grabbed it. Drinking the potion in big gulps, she pointed her free hand at him and dissipated all the water from his sodden undertunicthe night was cool and hed begun to shiver. Then she whisked away all the water hed dripped onto the floor while downing the second solution.
Clear thinking under pressure, as always, he murmured.
Assuming bird form was not only unpleasant, but disorienting, everything around her rapidly inflating to mountainous sizes.
He took her in hand. Time to go.
You wish to be on a train headed not into Slough, but into London, sire? asked Dalbert, sounding doubtful.
Precisely. Titus checked his person, his clothes, and his belongings, applying one spell after another to reveal the presence of tracers and other foreign objects. He was clean.
But sire, in your condition
All the more reason to leave without delay. You saw what the Inquisitor did to me. The House of Elberon means nothing to her. The farther I am from her, the safer I will be.
Dalbert still did not look convinced, but he acquiesced and lifted Tituss satchel.
A loud knock rattled the door of Tituss bedchamber. Your Highness, Lady Callista to see you, announced Giltbrace from outside
Exactly what Titus had feared. He grabbed Fairfaxs cage and gestured to Dalbert to keep quiet and follow him.
Your Highness, came Lady Callistas voice. The regent and I have been most distressed to hear of the seizure you unexpectedly suffered while touring the Inquisitory.
Hurry, Titus whispered to Dalbert. They will try to confiscate my transport.
They slipped into a secret passage accessed from Tituss dressing room and ran, Titus willing his stomach not to rebel again until later. The secret passage ended somewhere below the garret. He took the revolving steps three at a time, growing dizzier with each turn. Beneath came the pounding din of pursuit.
The garret, at last. They threw themselves into the rail coach, Titus bolting the door while Dalbert lurched for the controls. No sooner had Dalberts hand fitted around the lever than a phalanx of guards burst through the door.
Go! Titus commanded.
Dalbert pulled. The rail coach shuddered and forcefully inserted itself into the pulsating bloodstream that was the English rail works.
The sound of steel wheels grinding on metal rails had never sounded so sweet.
Fairfax was safe. For now.
CHAPTER 
17
He briefly bewitched a middle-aged lady and her maid. As the two followed dazed and obedient in his wake, he presented himself to the hotel clerk as Mr. John Mason of Atlanta, Georgia, traveling with his mother. Once he had his key in hand, he walked the lady and her maid out a different door, released them from the bewitchment, and bade them a cordial good night.
In his rooms, he applied layer upon layer of anti-intrusion spells, feeling no compunction in using the deadlier ones known to magekind. Deeming it secure enough for Fairfax to resume human form, he left her in the bedroom with a tunic from his satchel and a pair of his English trousers.
She padded out of the bedroom just as the dumbwaiter dinged.
Your supper, he mumbled from where he lay slumped on the settee, his arm over his eyes.