you can bring this issue of Wales up with the Council when we meet in a fortnight—” “A fortnight?” Will’s voice rose; he was pale, with splotches of red standing out on his cheekbones. “Tessa was taken today. She does not have a fortnight.” “The Magister wanted her unharmed. You know that, Will,” said Charlotte in a soft voice. “He also wants to marry her! Do you not think she would hate becoming his plaything more than she would hate death? She could be married by tomorrow—” “And to the devil with it if she is!” said the Consul. “One girl, who is not Nephilim, is not, cannot, be our
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