Read Blaze of Glory for Free Online

I've brought
my body and soul back together, but the true death is
calling.' He still felt it – a deep-seated inner summoning.
    'I've stopped things, for the time being, but I'm afraid it's
only temporary.' He shook his head, then bit his lip and
looked away as emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
'I'm sorry, George. I've overstepped myself, rather.'
    George gripped his shoulder. 'You'll figure out something,
I'm sure of it. Besides, you've been in worse spots.'
    Aubrey turned and stared at his friend. 'Worse spots?
Worse than being dead?'
    George scratched his head. 'Well, I'm not, I mean, I
didn't exactly mean . . .'
    Aubrey watched his friend with gratitude. George's
support was enough to bring him around to face his situation.
Inaction – never his friend – would in this case
probably prove fatal. 'Help me up, George. I need to get
to my books. I have to close that door.'

Three
    A UBREY AND G EORGE DIDN'T GO TO THE INFIRMARY after the debacle on the training ground. Aubrey
refused. Even though George was dubious, they went
back to their room.
    Boarding at Stonelea School was not Aubrey's idea.
Nor his parents', really, even though his father had
attended the school himself. It had simply been assumed,
from Aubrey's earliest youth, and emphasised by Aubrey's
grandmother, his father's mother. Duchess Maria had
appointed herself the upholder of the Fitzwilliam family
name. Despite the twin handicaps of not being born
into the family and coming from overseas, her knowledge
of the family tree was formidable. Since her husband, the
Duke of Brayshire, had passed away, Duchess Maria oversaw
the family traditions. In her eyes, this included boys
attending Stonelea – and boarding there even though
Maidstone, the family home, was only a short walk away.
Since she was the fiercest old woman he'd ever known,
Aubrey had never questioned her decision.
    Aubrey eased himself down on his bed and draped an
arm across his eyes. 'Put a chair behind the door, would
you, George? "Never disturb a wounded soldier", or so
said the Scholar Tan.'
    No locks on the doors at Stonelea, so a chair under the
doorknob was the best security available. Unless one used
magic – and using magic for such trivial things was
frowned on as a waste.
    George dropped Aubrey's pack on the floor. 'I'm sick
of your Scholar Tan. He's always droning on about battles
and tactics and retreats. It's so depressing.'
    'Have some respect. A thousand years ago he was a
revered expert on the art of war.' Aubrey's head was
throbbing. He heard the sounds of ball sports coming
from the courtyard below and was glad when they were
muffled by George closing the curtains.
    The physical test had been a shambles. Aubrey tried to
relax, to rest and regather himself. Since the bungled
experiment, he'd managed to find a few spells that eased
his situation somewhat, but he still had to take more care
of himself than he'd been accustomed to. He found it
difficult to put on weight, regardless of how much he ate.
His skin remained pale, even after time in the sun. The
hold his soul had on his body was tenuous. Physical or
emotional strain made it much harder to resist the call
of the true death.
    So far, he'd been able to hide these things from others.
Even from his mother and father.
    His motives for not telling his parents were clear to
him. At least, he'd thought them through carefully and
arranged them neatly, much in the way a barrister would
organise a defence for a client before going to court. His
aim was to avoid divulging his mistake by finding a
solution for his condition before anyone found out.
    Being ashamed of what he'd done wasn't quite right.
Being embarrassed was more accurate. As a dedicated
perfectionist, getting something wrong on this scale was
deeply mortifying.
    He was willing to admit there was more to it than that.
A son who had managed to suspend himself between
life and death through experimenting in forbidden magic
would certainly be exploited by his father's