Her softly spoken words staggered him for a moment, and he jerked the ties of their baggage in place with a bit too much force. "Why?"

Giles heard her soft footsteps as she neared him, felt the warmth of her hand against the back of his shoulder, but he did not turn around. He could not. He spoke his deepest fear. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No. No, of course not."

He breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, his old insecurities of the gulf between their social stations had risen to threaten him again. His worry that Cecily would not wish to wed against Thomas's wishes. Just because he had managed to overcome those obstacles, did not mean that she...

He turned. "Again I ask you. Why?"

She looked at him with her heart still in her eyes, and it puzzled him even more. "Oxford had such lovely churches. Wouldn't it be grand to marry in one of them?"

Giles frowned. He knew her well enough to know she would prefer a quiet marriage in a small town, a setting similar to the village they had left behind. He had believed her wholeheartedly when she'd professed her rejection of the t.i.tle and the grandeur that it could provide her.

"Cecily," he said, his voice tinged with exasperation, "tell me the real reason you want to hie off to Oxford."

She lifted her small hand and placed it against his cheek. Then she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. He could not help it when his arms pulled her close, when he responded to the touch of her mouth. But he would not allow her to distract him. At least, not until after he finished thoroughly kissing her.

Despite their prolonged loving just moments ago, his body responded to the feel of her warm body against his, and only the thought that she had to ride today stopped him from carrying her back to their bedding.

Which he just might do if he didn't stop this now. He pulled away and tossed the hair away from his face. "Tell me."

Cecily placed her hand against his left cheek yet again. "The Seven Corners of h.e.l.l... marked you with its magic."

He blinked at her stupidly for a moment, then reached up and pushed her hand away, scratching at his cheek. It still itched. Where that monster had clawed him. His elven blood should have healed that small scratch by now.

Giles stalked to the river, trying to see his reflection in the water. But it rippled too much, and he could make out only a darkish image of his face. An even darker splotch covering the left side of it.

"How long have I looked like this?"

"Since... since the Seven Corners of h.e.l.l... just before we escaped the black flame."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. But Professor Higley said a colleague of his was studying the creatures that emerged from that wild forest. Perhaps he could tell us."

Giles spun. Had the creature he'd fought pa.s.sed on some disease with that small scratch? "Tell us, what, exactly? Whether I'm going to turn into a monster or not?"

She blinked, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "No, Giles. You a.s.sured me that would not happen."

He closed the distance between them, her sorrow outweighing his fear. "Yes, yes of course, hush, and do not cry. All will be well, I promise. We will go see Professor Higley and his friend. I'm sure it is nothing."

And so they rode for Oxford, Giles a.s.suring Cecily the entire way that it was but a scratch and nothing to worry about, until he half-believed it himself.

Until they reached Oxford toward evening.

The university streets thronged with students returning home from their studies, costermongers trying to sell the last of their wares, and box chairs bringing home the gentry... or perhaps taking them out for the evening. As usual, the crowd parted before Giles, more than one glance cast warily toward the sword at his side. But unlike the last time they'd ridden through these same streets, the reactions of people when they glanced at his face were entirely different.

Giles had been aware of his good looks since he'd reached p.u.b.erty. He'd never questioned his ability to attract others, especially those of the opposite s.e.x. He hadn't considered himself vain. It was but a fact from constant observation.

But today when people looked at him, it was if they were repulsed. They glanced quickly away or stared rudely in disgust.

His hand stole to his cheek. How badly had he been marked?

Giles shook back his hair and lifted his chin, pulled up on the reins. "You there, girl. An apple for the lady and me."

The street urchin skipped toward him, a smile forming on her narrow face, the apples in her basket a bit brown and her delight in selling them obvious. But when she reached his side and looked up at his face, her eyes widened and she took a step back.

Giles fished a few coins from his pocket. "Come here, girl. I won't bite." And he punctuated his words with a smile. The smile that had always managed to make women of any age swoon.

The child winced, but did manage to fish out two apples from her basket and hand them up to him with shaking fingers. Giles tried to hide his dismay by giving her an extra half pence. The child s.n.a.t.c.hed it and ran.

He pulled Apollo alongside Belle and handed Cecily the brownish fruit.

"I could not see my reflection very well in the water. Has the mark altered me so very much?"

Cecily took a bite of the apple and chewed while she stared at him thoughtfully. "Your features are still as handsome as they have ever been, Giles Beaumont. Shall we find a room before we meet with the professor, or visit him straight away?"

He frowned at the odd way she'd answered his question. "We see the professor now."

Giles escorted Cecily into the room that Higley had directed them to. The old professor had been astounded by their foolishness in entering the Seven Corners of h.e.l.l, had been equally revolted by whatever had been done to Giles's face, and had told him again that he would welcome Giles into the ranks of the academia.

As if Giles's adventuring days had come to an end.

Cecily did not like going so far down into the depths of the old building, for the laboratories were all located beneath the ground floor, and she continued to shiver even when they entered the warmth of Professor Quinby's lab.

Various... things floated in bottles of cloudy liquid, and an acrid stench permeated the air. Tubes and jars littered the tables the same way that books had overtaken Professor Higley's private office. But the man who greeted them looked nothing like his colleague. Quinby looked to be quite a young man for his position, with a shock of red hair and a cherubic face that belied his grisly work in progress.

A cadaver lay on a table before him, a twisted figure of what might have once been a human being. The professor took one look at Cecily's face and quickly set aside his bloodied tools and pulled a sheet over the lump he'd been carving.

"May I help you?" he asked, his face turning almost as red as his hair, his gaze fixed in stupefied adoration on Cecily's face.

Giles tried not to bristle while he made introductions, ending with, "Professor Higley sent us."

Quinby's eyes flew to Giles's face and widened until they threatened to pop out. "I don't need to ask why. Good G.o.d, man, don't you know you shouldn't be alive?"

Cecily gasped and Giles took a step in front of her. "What do you mean by that, sir?"

The other man shook in his shoes, although whether from fear or excitement, Giles could not tell.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," the professor replied. "It's just that I never expected someone with the green plague to walk in through my door. They usually have to be carried."

"It's green?" Giles fingered his left cheek. "Give me a mirror."

Cecily shook her head. "No, it's not necessary, because you will heal him, won't you, Professor Quinby?"

The redhead stepped forward, his features suddenly intent with interest, studying Giles's face. "I daresay, I have yet to meet someone from Seven Corners who remained sane. That is where you picked up the... disease, is it not? For I pray there is no other place of such disastrous magic."

"I fought a monster within that forest," replied Giles. "The creature managed to nick me with one of its claws."

"Claws, you say? I've seen several specimens like that, almost as if an animal had somehow merged with the man. But the plague is rarely contagious, even when injected directly into the bloodstream. Of course, my experiments were outside of the magical confluence itself, and perhaps the powers within are responsible for the actual contagion."

"You purposely injected yourself?" whispered Cecily.

Giles glanced down at her horror-stricken face. "Mirror. Surely you have some type of looking gla.s.s, man!"

The professor started, quickly turned and rummaged through a cabinet. He pulled forth a shiny disc of silver and handed it to Giles.

Although not as clear a reflection as a mirror, it still showed Giles a much sharper image than what he had seen in the stream or the gla.s.s windows on the street.

He could not speak. A dark patch covered the left side of his face, as he had noticed before. But what he had not been able to tell was the putrid green color of it. A vivid color that reminded him of gangrene... and the hideous decomposition of the creature he'd fought. He could not see past the revolting color of the blemish covering the side of his face to his own even features, for the mark demanded attention.

Giles had never thought of himself as particularly vain. Until this moment.

How had Cecily hidden her revulsion?

And how could he ever continue to spy for the Rebellion, when he carried such a distinguishing mark? Thomas had taught him how to blend with a crowd, how to use his good looks to glean information from even the most reluctant maid.

Something broke within Giles. Perhaps his dreams. Perhaps his self-esteem. But he knew he might never heal unless he rid himself of this mark. Giles mentally shook himself and picked up the thread of conversation between Cecily and the professor.

"-but it will not turn him into a monster, will it?" she asked.

"Are you sure it hasn't spread since this morning?"

"I am sure. It ceased to grow the moment we left the forest."

"And yet you said nothing," interrupted Giles.

Cecily clasped her hands together. "There was naught to do about it. Until now."

Giles turned on Quinby. "So? Is there indeed something you can do?"

The other man shrank backward. "I can only offer you some a.s.surances, sir. Have you felt the impulse to... kill anyone?"

Giles shrugged. "I leave that up to my sword."

"I see." Although clearly, he did not. "You speak quite rationally, so I can deduce that the plague has not spread to your brain and infected it with madness. And based on my own observations of the cycle of this disease, and confirmed by Lady Cecily, I do not imagine it will progress any further."

"But you can't be sure?"

"Alas, no, I'm afraid not. The truth is, you are the first sane creature-er, man I have met who carries such a mark. Lady Cecily says you possess a healthy amount of elven blood within your veins, and I believe this, along with the removal from the vicinity of the influencing magic so soon after initial infection, has halted its normal growth. However"-he paused, glancing at Cecily-"I would suggest you pay attention to any signs of unusual rage. This may be an indication that the plague touched your brain, however lightly."

Giles felt furious at the moment, but nothing beyond his usual limits. "You do not need to fear for her," he said, sensing the direction of the other man's thoughts. "The moment I suspect madness, I will fall upon my blade."

Cecily made a strangled sound within her throat, and Giles placed a hand on her shoulder to help steady her. He must take her from this place-its smells and green body parts floating in jars-before she collapsed.

"But you cannot remove this... disfiguring mark from my face?"

"I'm afraid I cannot, sir. I have not found a cure for the plague, and cannot venture into the forest where I can study the growth of it. But I will promise to renew my experiments with more vigor on your behalf, and will contact you through Professor Higley, should I achieve any success. I'm afraid that's the best I can do."

"It is more than I would have expected, Professor Quinby. And I thank you."

Giles led Cecily from the room, out into the night, absently noting that it had started to rain. He pulled out his cloak and hid within the folds of the hood all the way to the inn they had stayed at previously, leaving it on and allowing it to pool water on the common room's floor while he made arrangements for two rooms.

Cecily hissed a protest in his ear, but he did not acknowledge it until they entered her room upstairs.

"Why do we need two?" she demanded as soon as he'd shut the door behind them.

Giles set the lantern the innkeeper had provided him and busied himself at the fire, building it up to a bright glow. He then flung back his hood, catching a glimpse of his disfigured face within the looking gla.s.s across the room. "How could you have made love to me this morning? When I look like... this?"

She looked confused, and then angry. "Do you think me so shallow, Giles Beaumont, that a little mark could alter my love for you?"

Giles tore off his sodden cloak. She did not understand that everything had changed. But in time, she would. To avoid prolonging the inevitable, he spoke as truthfully as he could. "We shall not marry."

"I beg your pardon."

"I can no longer marry you, Cecily. I will not subject you to such danger."

"This is complete nonsense, Giles Beaumont. You heard the professor; you will not turn into a monster. And you promised me you wouldn't. So there." And she stomped her tiny foot.

The gesture would have made him smile. But an hour ago. "I promise you I will kill myself before I allow that to happen. But there is more to consider than you know, and once you've had time to think on it, you will realize this."

"What can there possibly be to consider but our love for each other? I have waited my entire life for you, and d.a.m.n if I will allow anything to destroy that."

Giles closed the distance between them, caught her small hands up in his. He resisted the urge to kiss her mouth, and instead, kissed her fingers.

"And I love you, my dear. Which is why it is impossible for me to marry you. Perhaps you can overcome my... disfigurement, but others will not. If we marry, you face a life of exile and uncertainty. I cannot do that to you."

"Stop this, Giles." Her breath hitched, and her eyes welled with tears.

d.a.m.n, he could not take much more of this. "Don't you see that my life... my happiness, ended when that creature marked me? I will no longer be able to pursue any of my dreams. Including the glorious fantasy that has been my last few days with you."

"You are just feeling sorry for yourself. It ill becomes you, Giles."

"Perhaps. But it is my sorrow to bear... alone." And he dropped her hands and walked out the door, no longer able to look at her.

No longer wanting her to look at the ugly thing he'd become.

Eleven.

It rained throughout their entire journey back to London. Cecily gloried in the feel of water covering her body, felt her skin drink it up until she felt stronger than she had since leaving Dewhame. At least in body. Her mind, on the other hand, spun in frantic circles of argument, which she subjected Giles to whenever she thought of a new way to refute his stubborn insistence that he'd ruin her life by marrying her.