Read Online Heart of Light by Sarah A. Hoyt - Free Book Online Page A

foreign lands and spicy, exotic women. But somehow, the letters had stopped after a few months.
    Now the force of childhood friendship and idolatry-like admiration of Peter hit him like a physical blow and relief swept over Nigel like a chill, cooling the sweat of fear upon his skin. He was not alone. He might have found the British Magical Secret Service house burned out, and every man he expected to call an ally dead. But Peter was here. Nigel would not be braving danger on his own.
    The relief of the thought was such that Nigel's legs went suddenly weak, as if only fear and desperation had been steadying him.
    Peter stood up and smiled at Nigel. “Hello, old man.”
    He gestured eloquently to the black-suited servants who hurried up to the table, carrying an extra chair. While Nigel sat, they arranged a place setting in front of him and dispensed food and drink noiselessly.
    As Nigel unfolded his napkin upon his dark pants, Peter said, “You'll forgive my having introduced myself to your wife, Nigel. I heard her name, and I couldn't help seeing if by any chance she knew you.”
    “No problem at all,” Nigel said, and felt more than saw Emily relax. What had she thought, that he'd berate her for talking to a man to whom she'd not been introduced? “But what are you doing in Africa, Peter? What brings you to Cairo?”
    Peter sighed and opened his hands, a show of charming artlessness. “I am here at my leisure, as you see.” He smiled, but his expression looked bitter. “I am a man of leisure.”
    “Leisure?” Nigel said. He raised his eyebrows. “I always thought you'd go into law or the army, or . . .” The Farewells had an old and prestigious title, but hardly any money at all. The family house, to which Nigel had been invited often enough for holidays, was a large, ramshackle building. It had been the seat of Peter's family since the Norman invasion, and of the Farewells' once vast domains all it retained was a small park and a couple of ill-treated farms attached to it. All the rest had been sold or lost at the gaming tables or in exotic pleasures at specialized brothels, by Peter's grandfather, whose debauch had since become legendary.
    Peter's father in turn had married a woman from a family of dubious ancestry, with little magic but much money. However, her dowry had been too little, too late, and failed to stop the drainage of Farewell's funds. They held on to those farms, but no one knew quite how they managed.
    Peter colored a bright red and looked past Nigel's shoulder, at the middistance. “Ah . . . I tried law and army both, but neither would suit.”
    Nigel was not sure what that meant. How could Peter survive in the absence of gainful employment? But he realized he'd trespassed upon Peter's feelings and private shame.
    Emily said, in a small voice, “You know, the pyramids look fascinating—”
    Peter cast Emily a grateful look, but said to Nigel, as though Emily hadn't spoken, “It doesn't signify. I am, as you see, on my own and unencumbered by any of those cares of the world that make beggars of us all. I've traveled to Greece and Rome, studied the world and history. And until I saw Mrs. Oldhall's face, I had never come across any reason to regret not having married or burdened myself with family.”
    The look that Peter gave Emily was so full of earnest admiration that, for the first time Nigel felt as though he were the victor in the unspoken competition. He grinned, feeling absurdly happy—forgetting that his marriage remained unconsummated and that the mission that had brought him to Cairo had just suffered unexpected tribulations.
    “But I should let you be,” Peter said. “I am not, after all, such a bad sport that I would interrupt another fellow's honeymoon.” He smiled disarmingly at both Nigel and Emily, and rose. “If you'll excuse me.”
    “No, stay,” Nigel said, at the same time that Emily began, “But, Mr. Farewell—”
    Nigel added, “Stay. We had time together