A/N: I was getting reviews with rather different opinions on the speed of Nat and Kitty's developing romance. Most say it's paced just okay, but some say it's too quick. I understand those who say it's too quick, but you need to understand that I can't spend a lot of time developing romance if I want to proceed with the story itself, because the REAL STORY only starts when Nat and Kitty finally fall into each other's arms.

Of course, I could have written another one or two chapters only about developing their feelings, but it would have slowed the fic down and would have bored you. One of my big fears is always that I bore the reader, so I aim not to. Therefore, I decided to proceed with the plot instead of dwelling too much on emotions. Don't worry, there will be emotions throughout the fic, I just don't like overdoing them. In my readers' interest :) I'm a plot person, not a slowly-developing-feelings person.

Review responses sent out as usual.

Also thanks to: gremlin, Perennial Rhinitis, Musica Diabolos, Hugani (yeah, Kitty's a lot like Holly…), refloc, Rekhyt, Saiyume, azimataiji, colorguardchick05, Queen Dragon (please log in or give me your email addy or I can't reply to your review!), 4everrandom, the Thirteenth Councilor, Astrensi, pi-fan92, Bismillah

Chapter 8

Your Loss Is My Gain

Kitty was looking at herself in a full-length mirror, remembering the last time she'd done the same. On her wedding day, she had been sizing herself up with a resigned expression. Now, however, there was a little smile on her face.

She knew that she wasn't supposed to be in the least happy about this ball, after all, it had been brought about by a catastrophe; and yet, she couldn't help feeling excited about having a chance to dance with John again. Their first – and so far last – dance had been a disaster with him limping and wincing all the way through, and back then she had felt disgusted by the mere idea of having to hold his hand and letting his other hand rest on her waist… but now she looked forward to it. She didn't really want to admit it, but she was missing John.

After they had returned from Paris on Sunday evening, she had barely seen him. She didn't know whether he indeed had so much work or was deliberately avoiding her, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to ask him. She didn't yet trust him enough for that, and she didn't know whether she'd ever fully do so. But even if he wasn't trustworthy, he had shown a little change on Sunday. Not much, but just enough for Kitty to notice. For the first time since she'd first met him, John had allowed himself to let his hair down. He'd taken off his suit jacket and strolled around in Paris like an average, normal person. He had even showed her that he had a sense of humour, even if it was more or less sarcastic.

Kitty was sure that tonight John wouldn't be the same man he had been in Paris, after all, in government circles he would be laughed at if he showed any kind of humanity. But a cold John was still better than none at all…

Kitty blinked. Where did that idea come from? She shook her head in disbelief. She'd been having equally ridiculous thoughts since Sunday, and all of them were about a certain Mr Mandrake. Funnily, none of them included killing him or beating him up…

Heavens, Kitty, you're going soft, she chided herself. He's a goddamn magician, just as evil and calculating as the rest! But had he looked at all evil in Paris? With a grimace, she admitted that he hadn't. He'd been almost friendly. And the way he had been looking at her on top of the Eiffel tower…

Kitty felt a flip-flop in her stomach at the memory. Closing her eyes, she began to massage her temples, but the mental image currently residing in her mind just wouldn't go away. Dang it, Mandrake, why do you have to have such beautiful blue eyes? Upon opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the same pair of blue eyes looking at her from the mirror.

A shiver ran down her spine. "When… when did you enter? I didn't notice."

"I knocked but apparently you were too immersed in your thoughts." Nathaniel shrugged. "Are you aware that your face has just turned the same colour as a beetroot?"

"It hasn't!"

"Yes, it has," he replied with a lopsided grin. "But don't worry, it suits you. Goes well with your dress too."

"Ehm…" Kitty didn't really know what to answer. Glancing at her mirror image once more, she established that her face was indeed as red as her dress.

"You're beautiful."

Her eyes widened, and she felt like twirling around, but she found that she couldn't move. "Am I?"

"Yes," he said with a smug expression. "Every other minister will envy me at the ball."

"Just a week ago you said I was extremely ugly," she reminded him with a small smile.

"And I landed in the swimming pool for it. Mind you, I deserved that."

"What, are we no longer at war, Mr Mandrake?" She turned around, sending him a challenging look.

He pursed his lips. "I don't know. We could be, if you wanted to. It was kind of fun."

"I think I like peace better."

"Well, enjoy it as long as it lasts," he replied with a wink. "Knowing you, it won't last long."

"Knowing you, it won't last long!" she retorted.

"Hmm… probably. Well, shall we, milady?" He offered her his arm, and she took it without a second of hesitation.

o o o O O O o o o

"I've heard that you and John managed to arrest an American spy this morning," Jane Farrar told Ffoukes in a chit-chatty voice. They, along with hundreds of magicians, were standing in Westminster Hall, waiting for the Prime Minister to open the occasion.

"Yes, indeed," Ffoukes replied. "The spy has confessed to having contributed to the bombing of Harridges. Currently our men are after the rest of the terrorists. We got quite a good clue from the spy we interrogated today."

"Hmm… and how can you be sure that the spy hasn't misled you?" asked Jane, sipping a bit of champagne.

"John is good at reading facial reactions and said he was a hundred per cent sure our little captive wasn't lying. Well, we'll see."

"Undoubtedly we will." The woman nodded. "Speaking of John, is he bringing his lovely little wife?"

"Well, he is supposed to," Ffoukes answered, looking around, as though he were searching for his young friend in the crowd, even though he knew John hadn't yet arrived. "Deveraux himself asked me to remind John that he's a married man now, and as such, he's expected to bring his wife to social events. And even if it weren't expected of him to bring Mrs Mandrake, I'm pretty much sure he still would. I have a feeling that our John is getting rather fond of her." He sent the woman a sideways glance to see that she looked ready to strangle him. A frown creased her forehead and she was gripping her glass of champagne so tightly that it was a wonder the glass hadn't yet broken. An imp hovering above her shoulder gave Ffoukes a glance just as dark as its mistress's.

Finally Jane recovered her voice and forced it to sound sugary-sweet. "Honestly, Ffoukes I don't know what makes you think that John is developing feelings for that filthy little commoner. He desires me more than he ever had. Why, last Tuesday he practically raped me on my office desk…" She took a gulp of champagne with a superior smirk.

"Last Tuesday?" Ffoukes rubbed his chin in a contemplative way. "When exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know, slightly after noon, but does it matter?"

"Actually, it does." It was the man's turn to smirk in a superior way. "John mentioned to me that last Tuesday his wife had paid him a little visit around noon and riled him up pretty much. I'd imagine she not only riled him but… aroused him as well. It's possible that you, my dear, merely came in handy to satisfy his urges." Ffoukes also took a sip of his champagne. "But of course, it may be just my too vivid imagination… Speaking of vivid, look who's arrived! My, my, isn't Mrs Mandrake the belle of the ball?"

Miss Farrar looked in the direction of the staircase, on top of which her lover appeared, arm in arm with Kitty 'Commoner Filth' Jones. Jane even refused to refer to that woman as 'Mandrake' in her mind. This nobody wasn't worthy of that name, she decided.

The Mandrake couple descended the stairs.

Something's in Jane's stomach clenched at the sight of John's face. She had never seen him so relaxed, so… happy yet. And that commoner filth… she looked like a queen in her tight-fitting, vivid crimson dress that appeared to be a real Dior.

Ffoukes hurried over to the Mandrakes, shook John's, and kissed Kitty's hand in greeting. "You're undoubtedly the prettiest lady here tonight," Jane heard Ffoukes telling that 'commoner tramp'.

"Tsk-tsk, Ffoukes, are you trying to seduce my wife?" John said in an amused voice.

The 'tramp' laughed, and her eyes met John's and John smiled down at her. He had never smiled like that at Jane. Suddenly Jane felt a sharp pain in her palm and fingers.

"Jane!" John seemed to have noticed her presence at last. "What happened to your hand? It's bleeding!"

"Nothing, John," the female magician replied coldly. "I just grabbed my glass too tight." She murmured a few words in Arabic and the wounds disappeared. As she looked up from her freshly healed hand, she realised that the 'commoner filth' was standing right next to her. Jane forced a smile on her face. "Mrs Mandrake."

"Good evening, Miss Farrar. I hope your hand is no longer hurting."

If only you were hurting, preferably in a torture chamber of the Tower! Jane thought, but aloud only said"No, thank you," in a sugary voice.

"Oh, Deveraux's here," Ffoukes chimed in, and everyone in the hall fell silent to listen to the Prime Minister's rather boring and lengthy speech about the importance of tonight's ball.

o o o O O O o o o

Half an hour later the party was in full swing, and Kitty found herself left alone with a glass of rum punch, as one of the ministers had whisked John away to discuss boring everyday politics. John had given her an apologetic glance and let the old minister lead him away.

Watching some magician couples swaying on the dance floor to a Strauss waltz, Kitty felt almost envious. She hadn't even had a chance to dance with her husband yet, but wasn't entirely sure John would be willing to dance at all after last time. The memory of a limping John at their wedding made her chuckle. Staring at the rosy liquid in her glass, she wondered how things could have changed so much so quickly. One and a half weeks ago she would have given anything just to be a free woman, to live as far from Mandrake as possible; and now she considered every minute they spent apart a wasted one.

Am I in love with him? – She wondered, deliberate not to follow him with her eyes. Honestly, what is so special about him? He's arrogant, selfish, cold and… oh, I don't know, but it feels so… so good.

She finished her rum punch and put the glass on the tray carried by a servant. The servant bowed slightly – apparently he had been instructed to bow every time a magician deigned to give him empty plates or glasses. Kitty turned away from him, making a grimace. This servant was just like her – a commoner, and was bowing to her as though she were one of those whom she despised. The feeling that she didn't belong here attacked her stronger than ever before.

Heavens, what am I doing here? – She groaned inwardly. I should be out there, fighting the government, and I'm here instead, pretending to be one of them! If it weren't for John, I'd just run away…

She halted in her stride. Oh nooooo… I've started caring about his opinion and his damn reputation! This must be the end of the world…She shook her head in disgust. I don't care about his goddamn reputation! I don't belong here, and I'm not even staying!

She began walking towards the staircase, but with every step she got more and more insecure. Could she do this to John? Could she leave him just like that?

Why, do you think he is worthy of you feeling pangs of remorse? He's not! He's an absolute jerk, who doesn't respect anyone, thinks only of himself, and is cheating on you with that pug-nosed bitch!

Feeling encouraged to leave, she continued towards the staircase with more deliberate steps.

As she reached there, her glance fell upon a rather morbid-looking statue of a cowering boy. He seemed to be beseeching someone and his features looked only too realistic…

"Scary, isn't it?" a female voice spoke up behind her.

She turned around to see Jane Farrar. "Yes, quite. The sculptor must have had a weird sense of humour, but undoubtedly a great deal of talent…"

The female magician gave Kitty a cold laugh. "That wasn't done by a sculptor. The boy was a magician apprentice who brought shame on his master, so his master turned him into stone."

Kitty shuddered. "That's cruel."

"Cruel, like all of us, dear," Jane replied sharply. "Your John is like that too, I hope you know that."

Kitty crossed her arms. "Why haven't you broken up with him yet, then?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jane asked challengingly.

"I don't really care whom he's shagging, if that's what you mean." Kitty shrugged. "I'm just curious what you find so interesting about him if you think he's evil."

"What, my dear?" Jane presented her with a vampire smile. "He's handsome, has a gorgeous body, and he's amazing in bed. Come to think of it, I really have to say thanks to you…"

"Me?" Kitty raised an eyebrow at the other woman.

"Yes, dear," Jane said in condescending voice. "You're keeping him aroused but closing him out of your bedroom, which means, he comes to me whenever he feels the need to. And tell you what, he used to be a good lover before you came into his life, but now he's brilliant. And it's all thanks to you. Just keep it up, I'm not a bit complaining. As long as he doesn't shag you, he's doing it to me, twice as passionately as he usually does. It's a zero-sum game, dear: your loss is my gain."

Kitty felt a sudden urge to scratch Jane's eyes out, but took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face. "I'm happy for you, dear. Enjoy my husband while you can."

"While I can?" Jane looked politely confused. "I fear I don't understand you… John wants me and needs me. I can give him what you can't. He knows that and is really grateful. Why, just the other day he took me to Venice…"

Kitty gave Jane a patronising look. "He took me to Paris and I haven't even slept with him for that."

"To Paris?" Jane's eyes bulged.

"Yes. He bought me a whole wardrobe of Dior clothes; we were on the top of the Eiffel Tower and even sailed on the Seine. It was lovely. And tell you what, John didn't look a bit cruel. He looked rather… cute." Cute? Heavens, Kitty, you're defending him? When he doesn't even deserve it? Must be the rum punch, it was surely spiked…

"Cute?" Jane frowned.

"Yes." Kitty nodded, forcing her face not to tuck into a satisfied grin. "He kept smiling and joking… I'd say he was kind of flirty." Cute and flirty… am I talking about John Mandrake here? Phhh… no more rum punch for me, thank you!

Jane was now gaping like a fish and Kitty had to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing. She had to look away from the other woman, because the longer she watched Jane Farrar's sour expression, the stronger the urge was to laugh. Her glance fell upon a smaller door that led into the adjacent salon. Her husband was standing near the door, apparently in a heated discussion with two ministers. For a second he glanced in her way, and sent her a smile. She smiled back, but in the next instant the smile faded off her face. In the doorway, five or six metres behind John and his colleagues, a highly familiar little boy appeared. It was Jeremy, the youngest member of the Resistance. Kitty couldn't even wonder how the boy had got into the building…

She had seen movies in which scenes were shown in slow motion, and suddenly she felt she was in a similar movie. Something dark glinted in Jeremy's hand, and in the next second bullets were whooshing towards the nearest bunch of magicians: John and his two colleagues.

Kitty wanted to shout, wanted to do something, but she felt just as petrified as that unfortunate apprentice whose statue she'd been expecting a few minutes earlier.

Some magicians, who had been the quickest to regain their composure, summoned two djinn and an afrit that lunged upon the little boy, wrenching the gun out of his hand, pressing him facedown on the cold marble floor.

One of John's chat partners looked completely intact, the other was pressing a hand on his shoulder that a bullet that scorched. As for John…

Horror-struck, Kitty saw a rose of blood blossom on his white shirt. Slowly, he glanced down on himself, then, even slower, looked up to meet Kitty's eyes. He looked like someone who couldn't fathom what was happening to him.

Finally Kitty felt she could move again, and in a few quick strides crossed the space between him and herself, just in time to have John collapse into her arms.

A/N: this chapter was quite short, but the next one will be longer, with some real Nat/Kitty goodness :)

Meanwhile, I've written a Nat/Kitty one-shot (taking place after Ptolemy's Gate), titled Nathaniel's Gift. Check it out!

Review, please!