Victoria Schwab - A Darker Shade of Magic: A Novel

Contents

Also by V.E. SCHWAB and available from TITAN BOOKS

Vicious

A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC

Print edition ISBN: 9781783295401

E-book edition ISBN: 9781783295418

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

First Titan edition: February 2015

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Names, places and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

V.E Schwab asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Copyright 2015 V.E Schwab.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

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For the ones who dream of stranger worlds

Such is the quandary when it comes to magic, that it is not an issue of strength but of balance. For too little power, and we become weak. Too much, and we become something else entirely. TIEREN SERENSE,
head priest of the London Sanctuary

I

THE TRAVELER

I

Kell wore a very peculiar coat.

It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two, which would be unexpected, but several , which was, of course, impossible.

The first thing he did whenever he stepped out of one London and into another was take off the coat and turn it inside out once or twice (or even three times) until he found the side he needed. Not all of them were fashionable, but they each served a purpose. There were ones that blended in and ones that stood out, and one that served no purpose but of which he was just particularly fond.

So when Kell passed through the palace wall and into the anteroom, he took a moment to steady himselfit took its toll, moving between worldsand then shrugged out of his red, high-collared coat and turned it inside out from right to left so that it became a simple black jacket. Well, a simple black jacket elegantly lined with silver thread and adorned with two gleaming columns of silver buttons. Just because he adopted a more modest palette when he was abroad (wishing neither to offend the local royalty nor to draw attention) didnt mean he had to sacrifice style.

Oh, kings , thought Kell as he fastened the buttons on the coat. He was starting to think like Rhy.

On the wall behind him, he could just make out the ghosted symbol made by his passage. Like a footprint in sand, already fading.

Hed never bothered to mark the door from this side, simply because he never went back this way. Windsors distance from London was terribly inconvenient considering the fact that, when traveling between worlds, Kell could only move between a place in one and the same exact place in another. Which was a problem because there was no Windsor Castle a days journey from Red London. In fact, Kell had just come through the stone wall of a courtyard belonging to a wealthy gentleman in a town called Disan. Disan was, on the whole, a very pleasant place.

Windsor was not.

Impressive, to be sure. But not pleasant.

A marble counter ran against the wall, and on it a basin of water waited for him, as it always did. He rinsed his bloody hand, as well as the silver crown hed used for passage, then slipped the cord it hung on over his head, and tucked the coin back beneath his collar. In the hall beyond, he could hear the shuffle of feet, the low murmur of servants and guards. Hed chosen the anteroom specifically to avoid them. He knew very well how little the Prince Regent liked him being here, and the last thing Kell wanted was an audience, a cluster of ears and eyes and mouths reporting the details of his visit back to the throne.

Above the counter and the basin hung a mirror in a gilded frame, and Kell checked his reflection quicklyhis hair, a reddish brown, swept down across one eye, and he did not fix it, though he did take a moment to smooth the shoulders of his coatbefore passing through a set of doors to meet his host.

The room was stiflingly warmthe windows latched despite what looked like a lovely October dayand a fire raged oppressively in the hearth.

George III sat beside it, a robe dwarfing his withered frame and a tea tray untouched before his knees. When Kell came in, the king gripped the edges of his chair.

Whos there? he called out without turning. Robbers? Ghosts?

I dont believe ghosts would answer, Your Majesty, said Kell, announcing himself.

The ailing king broke into a rotting grin. Master Kell, he said. Youve kept me waiting.

No more than a month, he said, stepping forward.

King George squinted his blind eyes. Its been longer, Im sure.

I promise, it hasnt.

Maybe not for you , said the king. But time isnt the same for the mad and the blind.

Kell smiled. The king was in good form today. It wasnt always so. He was never sure what state hed find his majesty in. Perhaps it had seemed like more than a month because the last time Kell visited, the king had been in one of his moods, and Kell had barely been able to calm his fraying nerves long enough to deliver his message.

Maybe its the year that has changed, continued the king, and not the month.

Ah, but the year is the same.

And what year is that?

Kells brow furrowed. Eighteen nineteen, he said.

A cloud passed across King Georges face, and then he simply shook his head and said, Time, as if that one word could be to blame for everything. Sit, sit, he added, gesturing at the room. There must be another chair here somewhere.

There wasnt. The room was shockingly sparse, and Kell was certain the doors in the hall were locked and unlocked from without, not within.

The king held out a gnarled hand. Theyd taken away his rings, to keep him from hurting himself, and his nails were cut to nothing.

My letter, he said, and for an instant Kell saw a glimmer of George as he once was. Regal.

Kell patted the pockets of his coat and realized hed forgotten to take the notes out before changing. He shrugged out of the jacket and returned it for a moment to its red self, digging through its folds until he found the envelope. When he pressed it into the kings hand, the latter fondled it and caressed the wax sealthe red thrones emblem, a chalice with a rising sunthen brought the paper to his nose and inhaled.

Roses, he said wistfully.

He meant the magic. Kell never noticed the faint aromatic scent of Red London clinging to his clothes, but whenever he traveled, someone invariably told him that he smelled like freshly cut flowers. Some said tulips. Others stargazers. Chrysanthemums. Peonies. To the king of England, it was always roses. Kell was glad to know it was a pleasant scent, even if he couldnt smell it. He could smell Grey London (smoke) and White London (blood), but to him, Red London simply smelled like home.

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