The Unbound Queen

by M. J. Scott

  She laughed as he released her. "How could I stay away? Every minute without you is endless."

  That made him laugh—an inside joke perhaps. Sophie recognized the expression on Imogene's face as she smiled at the duq. And the one he gave her. There was love between them, not just affection and alliance.

  "But we are being rude. You must greet our guests." Imogene turned back to Sophie and Cameron, gesturing the duq forward. He closed the gap between them in two long strides.

  "Sophie, my husband, the Duq of San Pierre," Imogene said. "Your Grace, Cameron and Sophie Mackenzie, Lord and Lady Scardale."

  Sophie stared up at the man, momentarily lost for words. She had never really thought about what Imogene's husband might be like, but she hadn't been expecting this mountain of a man. His Grace, Jean-Paul du Laq, Duq of San Pierre had to be close to seven feet tall. Well, perhaps not quite that. But he beat Cameron, who was well past six feet. And, while Cameron was broad-shouldered and strong, the Duq was a veritable wall of muscle topped with dark hair that looked like it would curl wildly had it not been caught back in a queue, and deep gray eyes that reminded her of the color of a sword blade.

  Formidable. That was the word that immediately sprang to mind. Maybe it came from having generations of ancestors who must have helped the various emperors build their empire, cutting down enemies and riding off to battle in far-off lands. That had to favor the survival of the biggest and strongest men born into the family. Men who had built and held this vast house, and the no doubt equally extensive holdings that surrounded it. Men of substance. And size.

  The duq did nothing to make himself appear smaller. Which was only to be expected of a man of his rank. He filled the space he occupied in the way she was familiar with from the higher nobles in the Anglion court. But there was an extra edge to Jean-Paul. Illvyan duqs held military ranks and the man held himself like a soldier, his alert stance akin to Cameron's.

  A silvery scar carved a line down the right side of his face—in the process somehow only improving the rugged handsomeness of it—so she had to assume he had taken that duty seriously and not stayed out of the line of fire. Not a man to underestimate. Another complication to factor into their plans.

  "Your Grace, I am very pleased to meet you," she managed, recollecting herself. Imogene smiled a smile that was close to a smirk, amusement clear in her blue eyes.

  "And I you, Lady Scardale." The duq returned in a voice that brought to mind low, rolling thunder. Deep and musical. Commanding. "My wife has told me much about you." He turned his attention to Imogene a moment, a smile that was skirting the edge of wicked flashing across his face as he gazed at her.

  Imogene's smile widened and she raised one eyebrow. Sophie couldn't help smiling at the two of them, taken again by their obvious delight in each other. Imogene had spoken of being fond of her husband, but Sophie had assumed they had still married for convenience or political ambition and perhaps that affection had grown from that. If that was the case, then it was clear that Imogene, like Sophie, had been a winner in the marriage lottery. If, of course, the Duq was as pleasant on the inside as he was on the outside. And if the emotion they were displaying was real. It was always possible that the two of them were brilliant actors, their show of harmony honed over years of palace intrigue. But somehow Sophie didn't think that was the case.

  "I must apologize, then, Your Grace. That must be extremely dull," she said.

  The duq's attention came back to her. "On the contrary, Lady Scardale. Your adventures are quite...diverting." One side of his mouth lifted lazily. It only emphasized the fact that Imogene had chosen a very handsome husband. One who obviously knew how to use charm when it suited him.

  But at court, one learned not to trust charm for what it appeared to be. And Sophie wasn't sure she liked his tone. Or that she should trust a man who thought that kidnapping attempts, assassination plots, and sanctii were diverting, no matter how much he might seem to be in love with his wife. Something to remember. She needed to keep her wits about her.

  "I'm sure they have been exaggerated, Your Grace," she said.

  "I hope not," he said, smile broadening. He turned to Cameron. "Lord Scardale. It seems you have been blessed, as have I, with an interesting wife."

  "I count myself fortunate for it," Cameron said neutrally.

  "Better than someone only interested in clothes and embroidery," the duq said, and Imogene rolled her eyes.

  "Name me one woman you know who is only interested in clothes and embroidery," she said dryly. "Really, Jean-Paul, you will make the Scardales think you are a clod-mannered military oaf."

  "Am I not?" Jean-Paul grinned.

  "That remains to be seen," Imogene said tartly. "Be nice."

  "My apologies, Lady Scardale," Jean-Paul said, though he didn't sound contrite. "I was only teasing."

  "No apology required. Thank you for the invitation to stay," Sophie said, falling back into the safety of court manners. "Your estate is beautiful."

  His smiled turned from amusement to genuine pleasure. "It is our honor to welcome you here, my lady. And thank you. Sanct de Sangre—both the house and our land—has been in my family for generations, and we are proud of it. But I'm sure Imogene will give you the full tour." He bowed briefly. "Unfortunately, I have business to complete this afternoon. Please, make yourselves comfortable and I look forward to getting to know you both better this evening."

  "As do we, Your Grace," Sophie said. Which earned her another slightly unnerving smile.

  The Duq stepped forward and kissed Imogene's cheek. "Until tonight, wife."

  "Yes," Imogene said. "Go do your dull duq things so that we may enjoy ourselves later." Dimples flashed in her cheeks as she smiled up at her husband.

  "And you try not to succumb to the temptation to bore our guests with your pet projects. Show them around. Perhaps you should go for a ride. It's a beautiful day." He nodded his head again at each of them and then turned on his heel and strode off.

  Imogene watched him for a moment. Then turned back to Sophie in a swirl of skirts. "Do you ride, Sophie?"

  "Yes, I do." She rose up on her toes a little, unthinking. The thought of getting out into the countryside they'd traveled through in the carriage and feeling space and air around her was tantalizing. More importantly, a ride would be a starting point to exploring the estate and how they might leave it. Her gaze traveled to Cameron. Who probably should be resting. He was still recovering, and if they did get a chance to run, he needed to be as healthy as possible. He would never say he was tired and leave her and Imogene to ride on their own through country he didn't know, no matter how many grooms or household guardsmen the du Laq's may have to accompany them. So perhaps it was safer to stick to the plan. Play at having nothing more on their minds but relaxing as they got the lay of the land. "But maybe tomorrow? I'm somewhat tired after the journey. And I would love to see the house and gardens first. They look so beautiful."

  Hopefully Imogene was as proud of Sanct de Sangre as her husband seemed to be.

  To her relief, instead of looking disappointed, Imogene looked delighted at the prospect. "Then a tour it should be. But first we must get you settled. And eat. Our cook here costs me a fortune, but she is worth every penny. I stole her away from the Marquioness of Ferrier, and she still hasn't forgiven me."

  That remark could have fallen from the lips of any of Sophie's friends amongst the court ladies back home in Anglion. Sophie's smile froze as a stab of longing pierced her. Oh to be home. Or even, to be here under no false pretenses and perhaps just spend time with Imogene. Make a new friend. But that was not to be.

  If she didn't want to fall into line with Aristides’s plans, then she had to make her own move. Get away.

  Imogene was part of the emperor's court—and one of his confidantes. It would be a mistake to trust her and cruel, perhaps to befriend her only to betray her trust. But it was tempting. To simply try to be. To enjoy the moments as though there were no greater co
ncerns in her head than what dress to wear to the next ball and whether Imogene's home was suitably impressive.

  "My mother always said a good kitchen is the key to a happy home," she said, trying to push down the whirl of competing emotions. "I don't think she ever had need to lure a cook away from another position, but I don't doubt she would have done so in a heartbeat." A small exaggeration. The Kendall estate wasn't a grand one, and the servants were more like family. Their cook had been firmly in charge of the kitchen for as long as Sophie could remember, and it would take something truly dire for her parents to replace her. Not least, because her food was delicious.

  "Good meals definitely help keep husbands happy," Imogene said, slanting a glance back at Cameron. "And it doesn't hurt to have the best to make all your friends jealous." She grinned. "All while feeding them such delightful meals that they can't risk annoying you in case you cut them off from their supply of lemon cake. My husband would write poems to our cook's lemon cakes if he had a literary bone in his body. Speaking of which, we should feed yours. If he is anything like me, then he must be starving after that journey. As you must be."

  "I am," Sophie admitted. "So, by all means, let us eat. And then you can show us this glorious house."

  Chapter 9

  Several hours later Sophie wished she hadn't been quite so enthusiastic about a house tour. Not that the house wasn't magnificent, but it was magnificent and huge. Her feet were beginning to ache as Imogene led them down yet another staircase, opened yet another door and announced, "The ballroom."

  Sophie stopped a few steps into the room, dazzled, aching feet forgotten.

  The ballroom's walls were huge mirrored panels. Everywhere she looked, her reflection looked back, a thousand dizzied Sophies, looking startled. Unlike the ballroom at the palace, there was no break in the mirrors. They covered the walls from floor to ceiling. She tried to imagine the effect when the room was full of people moving and dancing and couldn't decide whether that might be beautiful or overwhelming.

  It would be spectacular but must also feel like being surrounded by an endless press of people. The thought made her uneasy.

  "The servants hate this room," Imogene said, sweeping a hand at the mirrors. The movement, echoed by the Imogene reflected in each glass pane, was like a ripple in the world.

  "If I had to clean all that glass, I'd probably hate it too," Sophie said, lightly, trying to focus on the real person, not the images. "It reminds me of the ballroom at the palace."

  Imogene sniffed. "Yes. They copied this from what I've been told. But showed more restraint."

  "It's—"

  "Somewhat overwhelming," Imogene said before Sophie could finish her sentence. "Not precisely my taste. The ballroom was renovated by Jean-Paul's grandmaman at hideous expense. It was a marvel of its time, to have so many flawless mirrors made. I don't dare suggest we change it." She studied her reflection, lifting a hand to pat a loose curl back into place. "But that doesn't mean I don't do my best to cover some of the mirrors when we host a ball."

  "It must be spectacular by lamplight," Sophie said tactfully.

  Imogene smiled. "As long as one hasn't over indulged. Then it tends to make one feel a tad seasick." She glanced at Cameron who stood behind Sophie. The mirrors showed Sophie his politely interested expression. He'd been politely interested for most of the tour, asking the odd question about paintings or sculptures or strange artifacts but mostly letting Sophie and Imogene talk uninterrupted. She assumed he was trying to fade into the background so he could study the house, but she feared Imogene would think he was bored.

  "But we mustn't continue boring Cameron," Imogene said, confirming Sophie's fear. "This room is also one of the quickest ways to get a good view of the rear gardens." She crossed the room, heels tapping on the intricate parquet floor. It was only when Sophie got closer to the far wall that she realized a section of it was made of mirrored doors. Imogene pushed two of them open.

  "Come," she said over her shoulder. "We've spent enough time indoors."

  Sophie agreed. After Lumia, the fresh-scented country air was nearly intoxicating. The immaculate gardens that she suspected lay beyond the doors weren't exactly virgin country, but they were uncrowded by buildings and people. Her view of earth and sky and plants would be uninterrupted. She hadn't been an earth witch long, but she'd been raised in the country, and she missed it. Even without the pull of the ley lines and all the growing things, she would have been eager to be outside.

  She stepped through the doors onto a paved terrace.

  The movement and colors of the tiles caught her attention, and she paused to admire the artistry that had created the elaborate floral mosaic. Then she lifted her head, saw the view laid out before her, and gasped.

  The gardens of Sanct de Sangre were vast. Immediately before them, formal beds and hedges circled statues and fountains, bisected by pathways that traced precise lines and curves around them and the perfectly green grass. These flowed into lawns and rows of tall trees that offered glimpses of woods nestled at the base of hills. The placement of the groups of trees seemed too perfect to be natural. Had it all been sculpted by human hands?

  How long must that have taken? She'd seen some beautiful gardens before—the palace at Kingswell had served generations of earth witches after all—but this one was breathtaking. How many gardeners—and earth witches—did the du Laq's command? And if these were the gardens, what was the rest of the estate like?

  And just how big was it?

  How far to the nearest town or village? Too far to go on foot in a night, to get away in the space of time they might have before they were missed?

  She didn't look at Cameron. It was too soon to panic. They would think of something. There would be a way. For now, she should focus on Imogene, find out what she could from her.

  "Imogene, this is astonishing," she said, sweeping her arm at the vista. "I've never seen anything like it."

  Imogene's smile widened. "Thank you. The grounds might be my favorite part of the estate. The du Laq's have had quite a few earth witches in the family, and most of them seem to have a talent for gardening. When Jean-Paul's grandmaman wasn't buying acres of glass, she was most often ordering a small battalion of gardeners about."

  "And you? Do you continue that tradition?" Growing up on the estate with her mother—an inveterate gardener beyond the need for the herbs and vegetables that filled their kitchen gardens or the crops that grew in the fields—had instilled Sophie with a definite fondness for gardens. Though the Kendall's rambling flower-and-herb-and-vegetable-filled garden probably would have fit a hundred times over into the grounds here. Of course, the du Laq's could hide the rambling purposeful parts of the garden such as herb and vegetable gardens out of sight.

  "I do my best. Jean-Paul has more talent for gardening than I," Imogene said. "But it is not something he has much time for."

  "I would imagine not," Sophie said. If she had grown up in a place and family as elevated as the du Laq's, it was unlikely her parents would have had anything to do with the grounds beyond discussing plans with the stewards and servants who would do the actual work.

  It was difficult to dispute the path the goddess set for you, but maybe Jean-Paul would have been happy as a gentleman farmer or gardener.

  "This way," Imogene said. "We will head toward the stables."

  Their progress wasn't fast. Sophie kept stopping to admire the beds of flowers, the statues, the ponds and streams and fountains. The ley line ran through the garden, and the combination of the strength of its power and the life force of all the plants made her senses tingle.

  "The earth is strong in you," Imogene said, pausing beside her. "You have that distracted look out here. Jean-Paul gets the same way."

  "He has earth magic?" Sophie asked, startled. She hadn't made the connection when Imogene had mentioned the duq's fondness for gardening.

  "Some. Some blood as well. He is not particularly strong in either, but the du Laqs make up with
brains what they lack in magic. And they tend to marry those with power where they can."

  "Was your marriage arranged?"

  Imogene laughed "No. We were quite the scandal. We met at court, a few years after I first joined the Imperial mages, and that was it. At least for us. Jean-Paul's father was less convinced. I think he may have preferred a daughter-in-law without a sanctii."

  "He didn't approve of water magic?"

  "He had someone else in mind, I believe. There were objections. And my family was nothing special. We were comfortable enough but not of the nobility. The du Laq men have sometimes married witches and commoners in the past but rarely water mages. To be fair, there are less female water mages to begin with."

  "There are?" Sophie hadn't realized. Between Madame Simsa and Imogene, she hadn't noticed a lack of female water mages.

  "Yes. And fewer of those, as it is with the men, who choose to attempt a sanctii bond."

  Was it rude to ask more? But Imogene was offering the information freely. "What made you decide to—" She wiggled her fingers in the air.

  "To bond?" Imogene said. "I wanted to advance as a diplomat in the Imperial mages. I had no talent for blood magic or the Arts of Air to speak of, but a sanctii is an asset in an army."

  "Yes," Sophie said. "And did you see the empire?"

  "I saw my share. But then I met my husband. He was happy for me to stay in the service, but I didn't want to leave him for weeks or months at a time, so I stopped going on diplomatic missions. But the emperor has found me useful, and I have found other interests in the service to keep me busy."

  Interests like the navire d'avion that Imogene had showed them in the palace? "Perhaps you should have been an engineer, not a soldier." To imagine a ship that sailed on air as the navire was intended to do, required an engineer's brain, surely?

  Imogene flashed a smile. "My father was an ingenier. Eventually he owned one of the largest firms in Lumia. But he didn't travel much. He stayed home and ran his business. I wanted more than that. Or I thought I did. I seem to be becoming more my father's daughter these days. A Mage ingenier. Though still a solider, I suppose. Not quite the duquesse anyone expected, I think. But Jean-Paul held firm against his family. Thankfully his father came to like me well enough before he died, and Jean-Paul became the Duq."