Diablo 3: The Reaper of Souls Read Online Free PDF

quite a handsome gentleman. Or a courtier, perhaps? Raymond Haston danced with me half the night at Madam Whittington's last season, and I think he fancies me. And Celeste says that there are several gentlemen from Entsteig coming across the gulf for Madam Lancaster's revel, and there's sure to be a suitable one among them..."
     
    Nerissa nodded vaguely at the girl's chatter. There would be time for choosing a husband soon enough, and she smiled over Elizabeth's shoulder at Maurice, who hobbled as quickly as he could toward them, concern on his face, carrying the lamp in one hand.
     
    "Oh, I must tell Maurice at once! I must—Maurice!" Elizabeth spun away from Nerissa with such force that she nearly collided with the old servant, who reached out a hand to steady the girl. Elizabeth stumbled away, her foot caught in the raveled hem of her gown, and grabbed desperately for the man's arm. She seized it, pulling him off balance, and the lamp crashed to the stone floor, flaming oil pooling between them.
     
    Nerissa screamed and then caught herself. Elizabeth and Maurice stepped carefully away from the fiery puddle and looked to her like startled children. She tried to think, but for a long instant, the dancing flames mesmerized her. Then she snapped at Maurice, "A broom. Fetch a broom and beat the fire out." The old man hobbled off and Nerissa glanced around to see if anything flammable was near the blazing oil. She returned her gaze to Elizabeth, who fairly shuddered with excitement and fear, and Nerissa forced a smile onto her face. "It's all right, Elizabeth. Everything's going to be..."
     
    She trailed off as her eyes followed the curl of smoke downward to the hem of Elizabeth's costume. One of the parchment leaves was smoldering, and as Nerissa watched, it burst into a tiny, bright, writhing flame. The fire raced across the parchment leaf and leapt to another, and before Nerissa could break the trance, a half-dozen were ablaze. She screamed in earnest now and hurried around the flaming pool just as Elizabeth looked down and saw the blaze for herself. Before Nerissa could reach her, the girl howled in pure terror and bolted away from the burning oil, fanning the flames into a conflagration that covered half the dress. Nerissa chased after her, but Elizabeth was in full panic, dashing down the hall ahead of her sister, screaming wildly. Nerissa caught her finally and held her, the heat beating against her face, Elizabeth thrashing violently to get free. Nerissa slapped at the fire with her hands, but it only grew, sparks swirling up around her. Elizabeth cried in pain as the flames blossomed in her hair, and wrenched herself away from Nerissa, who seized the dress and pulled with all her might. The old seams came apart, and the dress peeled off of Elizabeth, who collapsed on the floor. Nerissa leapt to her, beating out the flames in her hair, sick to her stomach from the smell of burnt flesh.
     
    Nerissa had immediately sent Maurice for the healers, and to her eternal gratitude, they had not only come, but come quickly. They had labored over Elizabeth for hours, and they had saved her life, but not her beauty. Her face was marred by sticky red welts, which the healers told her would eventually resolve into scars. Her hair had been shorn, the scalp half covered in wet, gaping sores and charred flesh. One eye had been ruined, the brow dipping grotesquely over the empty socket. What was left of her lips twisted into an anguished, mocking sneer.
     
    Nerissa had sat by the bedside until dawn, when the ointments and medicinal draughts had finally allowed Elizabeth to pass into a fitful slumber, and she had thought about her mistake. She had taken the old woman too lightly—that much was obvious—but more than that, Carlotta had undone everything Nerissa had tried to achieve. The dowry had been as much for her as for Elizabeth, she realized, and she ground her teeth in frustration. If it were only her, she would never see that