He jumps off of me, leaves me lying there still and quiet, the blood spreading across my gown like a blooming red rose. I feel the pain, but cannot move, and I can only watch as he says goodbye with his eyes. He is almost out of the window when I whisper his name.

"Kartik. Please..."

But even as I speak, I can feel the magic tingling and buzzing through me; I watch the stain shrink into nothing, and feel the pain disappear, as if everything I have just felt is the end of a book, and with the closing of the cover I have locked it all away.

Lock it all away with a locket.

Lock it.

I laugh in spite of what has just happened. I can hardly believe it is true. The magic has the ability to heal wounds, wash blood, save lives. Without thinking, I pull up my chemise to inspect my skin. I hardly think of Kartik, still in the room and gazing at me furiously. Rapturously.

"Miss Doyle, remember yourself," he hisses, dragging down my clothing and glaring at me.

"You ... you stabbed me. You were to kill me." I falter. The euphoric feeling at my survival has left me, and instead I feel repulsion and fear at the thing in front of me.

"Miss Doyle, do not be so arrogant as to believe that a stupid little schoolgirl like yourself can change my mind. Can ... seduce me."

The words 'schoolgirl' and 'seduce' sting like lemon juice on grazes. I stand, move towards him, and very quietly whisper in his ear, "Kartik, my good fellow, if you do not escort me from the school and explain to me what on earth is going on then I am afraid that I shall scream. Very loudly. Loud enough to wake the dear Miss Bradshaw, who will vouch that she saw a gypsy boy trying to take advantage of me in the dead of night. So, my dear Kartik, what is it to be?"

The magic has given me the power of a cutting tongue.

Without any warning, his hand is on my mouth and he is carrying me as he shimmies down a vine, hanging conveniently close to my window. I try to squeal and wriggle free, but his grip, as I know, is strong, and he does not let go until we are on steady ground and he deposits me onto the earth with a soft thump.

"Miss Doyle, do you think that I was sent all the way from India to admire your dresses and pay you sickly sweet compliments?" His voice is callous, even though I can barely see him in the darkness of the night.

"Then why did you kiss me? And want to kiss me more?"

"It was ... a moment of weakness. It wasn't you. It was ... anyone. You were easy to get to."

I don't believe his words, but feel the tears trickling down my cheeks anyway. He reaches out to grab my face in his hands and feel them. I don't know what to expect from him anymore. I was broken, used, betrayed. I was hated.

"Gemma ... don't be so weak. Your mother was never this sentimental."

"My mother is dead. You probably killed her too." The words are out of my mouth before I can consider them, before I can stop them. I hate myself for even suggesting it.

"I did not kill your mother." He hisses into the darkness, and I see him shape step closer. Panicked, I move backwards. My bare heel catches a clod of dirt and I stumble backwards. It reminds me of the time I first caught him in my room. How that ended. Him on top of me. On the bed. Such warm skin, such smooth lips...

How is it that I hate him and love him at the same time? He is like a poison, a drug, the laudanum and opium of London, sending me to sleep amongst the clouds and dance with the daisies.

IhatehimIlovehimIhatehimIlovehimhatelovehatelovehatelovehate.

Love.

"Kartik," I murmur, pressing myself up close to his body, and I can feel his resolve weakening and his arms around my waist. "Kill me again if you wish. I shan't care one ounce. Just please don't hate me. Oh God, don't hate me."

I am pressed against a tree, his hands in my hair and on my skin and my lip on his neck and on his chest and we want to be everywhere at once and nowhere at once and I moan and press closer and his hands are at the back of my chemise, dragging it up over my thighs, fingertips grazing my stomach and now it's his turn to moan.

"Gemma ... I can't. Not to you. It would destroy you."

And this is how I know I'm loved and this is how I know I'm hated.