by M. J. Scott
"A successful outcome from a difficult beginning," Sophie said, stroking the leaf of a cirrus bush, feeling the small pulse of life force in the plant.
"Yes. Something I think you have some experience with?"
"Some," Sophie agreed. She looked at Cameron waiting for them about thirty feet away. She didn't want to discuss exactly how he had come to be her husband with Imogene. "But we should go on."
Imogene tilted her head toward Cameron. "Lord Scardale is an impatient man?"
"No." Sophie shook her head. "But I would like to see more of your estate. Enjoy the time we have here." The more ground they could cover, the better.
"We'll head to the stables, then," Imogene said. "The best way to see the outer grounds and the estate is on horseback." She paused, eyeing Sophie's dress. "I know we said we'd ride tomorrow, but can you manage in that rather than a habit?"
"Yes. My habits are cut for me to ride astride, but I can use a sidesaddle in this." The gown she'd changed into was one of Helene's simpler designs made of fine dark blue wool. It should stand up to a ride. "But I would like to see how Cameron is feeling. He is still recovering from the accident." Not that she thought that would stop him. Stubborn man.
Imogene nodded, then called to Cameron. "Lord Scardale, do you think you could manage a short ride? I don't want to waste this lovely day. But only if you are not tired from our journey."
Cameron raised his eyebrows and started walking toward them. "I'm fine, Your Grace. My wife worries over much.
Imogene looked pleased. "Good. The stables are this way."
The stables were no less grand than the house. Indeed, the large building looked as though it had been built from the same stone. Four wide sets of doors marched across the breadth of its front wall, standing open to the warmth of the day. Their elaborate brass handles sparkled in the sun. From inside came the sounds of horses and murmurs of voices.
"Is your sanctii close by?" Imogene asked, halting before they stepped onto the stone paving that surrounded the stables.
"Elarus?" Sophie realized she hadn't thought of the sanctii's whereabouts since they had left Lumia. "I don't think so, why?"
"Some of the horses are nervous around sanctii. Including two of our prize stallions."
"They're not used to Ikarus?"
"He generally stays unseen if he is anywhere near me when I ride. My own horse doesn't mind him, but it's kinder not to frighten any of them needlessly."
"I can ask her to stay away," Sophie said. At least, she hoped she could. Hoped that Elarus had followed them, as she had agreed to do. The bond between a water mage and a sanctii was supposed to be unbreakable—other than by large bodies of salt water such as the sea that lay between Illvya and Anglion. But the knowledge Elarus had gifted her told her that huge distances strained the bond and made it chancier that a sanctii might hear their mage call for them. Most water mages, from what Sophie could tell, made sure that their sanctii moved with them, though Sophie wasn't entirely sure how that worked. But they would need Elarus's help when they left. Better to know she was close.
"That may be wise." Imogene said.
[Elarus, are you here?]
[Close,] came the reply. [Need?]
[No. I'm fine. But Her Grace would prefer you to stay away from the stables.]
The sound that came next in her head was definitely a snort. [Don't need horse.]
[Nevertheless, horses can be scared easily. Please don't go in there.]
The next sound was closer to a sniff that seemed to suggest that if Elarus wished to see the stables she was perfectly capable of avoiding terrorizing the horses. [Horses not interesting. Do not need to see their house.]
That gave Sophie pause. What exactly was Elarus finding interesting on the estate? If indeed, she was within the grounds. Close was somewhat of an indefinable concept when sanctii could blink in and out of sight and place in an instant. But if Elarus was engaged in exploring the estate, Sophie had to trust she would be careful. Elarus knew that Imogene had a sanctii. Hopefully that would stop her from doing anything that might cause offence or trouble.
[Thank you. Perhaps we can speak later.]
[Perhaps.] Elarus said, the tone almost amused, which only reminded Sophie again of her need to understand their bond better.
"She will stay away," Sophie said to Imogene. Cameron, standing behind the duquesse, raised one brow. Perhaps he hadn't been considering Elarus's whereabouts either.
"Thank you," Imogene said. She led them to the second door from the right of the stables and into a long corridor lined with stalls. Horses poked their heads over the doors, watching them approach. They looked sleek and expensive.
Rows of long narrow windows sat high in the walls and also ran along either side of the beamed roof, giving enough light for her to see the horses' eyes turning toward them, ears flickering with curiosity. Huge lanterns, currently not alight, hung between the rooftop windows and an earth stone sat in a sconce next to each stall's doors.
They weren't more than a few feet into the building when a man wearing a version of the du Laq livery more suited to the stables—buff breeches, long boots, and a loose coat and shirt in the family blue—came striding up to meet them.
His dark hair was graying, but his face looked young as he smiled and bowed quickly to Imogene. "Your Grace, welcome home."
"It is good to be back, Norris," Imogene replied. "In fact, I find myself eager to see how things have gone along since I was here last. Can you saddle Pom for me, please? And this is Lord and Lady Scardale. They need mounts."
Norris fixed dark brown eyes on them. "My lord, my lady, welcome to Sanct de Sangre. Do you ride often?"
"Often enough," Cameron said. He glanced down at Sophie. "But perhaps it would be best to give us a couple of your quieter horses. That way everyone can be at ease."
It was the right response, judging by the smile that quirked Norris's mouth. "As you wish, my lord. Your Grace, if you go through to the mounting yard, we'll be with you shortly."
Their progress down the stable was slow. Imogene stopped to scratch the noses of the horses who whickered for her attention as she passed, telling Sophie and Cameron about each of them as she fed them lumps of sugar. The sweet steamy grassy smell of the horses was a familiar one that brought another pang of homesickness to her throat. She pushed it away, focusing on Imogene's words.
By the time they reached the far end of the stable and walked back outside, Norris and two other grooms stood waiting for them with three horses. Norris held a massive gray with a white nose and a matching white star. The horse stretched his neck forward and snorted at the sight of Imogene, dancing in place, which earned him a quick murmured "wait" from Norris. The other two—white-footed bays several hands shorter than the gray—didn't make any fuss.
Imogene went to the gray and patted his neck. "Pom. Behave, you wretch." She looked back over her shoulder. Pom snorted again, tossing his head.
"He doesn't look much like an apple," Cameron observed.
Indeed, the name seemed unsuited to the giant horse who gleamed with health, the shine of his coat outlining every muscle. Mountain, perhaps? Or something aggressive and masculine like Cannonball or Steel.
"He wasn't always this big," Imogene said. "When he was born, he was quite scrawny and his star"—she reached up to scratch the round white mark on Pom's forehead—"looked quite like an apple. So we called him that. It stuck. We didn't know quite what to expect from him back then. His dam was a warhorse. We bred her to one of our stallions but then discovered her in her field the next day with another—one of Jean-Paul's racers who was quite the escape artist back in his day. Meaning we had no idea who this idiot's father was at first."
"I take it, it was the warhorse?" Cameron asked. The horse flicked an ear in his direction, then pulled his head down to nudge Imogene's pocket.
"No, he's actually smaller than he should be if that were the case." Imogene produced a sugar lump and gave it to Pom. "And not nearly
mean enough. Besides, he's the spitting image of the racer. He was one of the few grays we had at the time. When this one's coat began to lighten, it solved the mystery. Jean-Paul was quite irritated. It's not a cross there is much demand for. But Pom and I got along, so I kept him."
Smaller than he should be? The horses the Red Guard rode in Anglion were bred for strength and speed, but they weren't as large as Pom. She tried to imagine a whole squadron of men mounted on horses even bigger than the gray charging as one toward an enemy. A frightening image.
She glanced at Cameron, but if he was thinking along the same lines, he gave no sign of it, his expression admiring as he watched Pom. It was silly to be worried about Illvyan warhorses anyway. The scariest thing in any Illvyan force attacking an enemy would be the sanctii, not the horses.
"But enough about this reprobate. He will be better for some time out stretching his legs." She held out a hand to Norris who handed her Pom's reins. "Norris, why don't you introduce Lord and Lady Scardale to their horses?"
Norris did just that. Sophie was brought over to the smaller of the two bays. Norris had obviously noted her dress and the bay wore a sidesaddle. "This is Chennei, Lady Scardale. He won't give you any trouble."
The Illvyan vocabulary in her head informed her that Chennei was a type of tree. She had no mental image to go with the word, but if the horse was named after a tree, she hoped it was a good sign that he was the solid and sensible type. She spent a minute or two getting to know him, feeding him an apple Norris gave her, then allowed the groom to help her into the saddle.
Imogene and Cameron mounted—Sophie had heard the groom tell Cameron that his horse's name was Samuel—and Imogene nudged Pom forward. The gray moved off eagerly, and Sophie barely had to touch her heels to Chennei's sides before he followed. Imogene kept Pom to a walk and then a trot as they moved clear of the stable yard and headed away from the buildings.
When they passed into a section of the grounds that was more park than gardens, Imogene let the gray have his head. The resulting gallop through the grounds was exhilarating. Sophie's horse gave no sign of wanting to race, though he was keen enough to run with the others, and he responded to her slightest touch of hand or leg so she was able to relax and enjoy the sheer thrill of speeding over the land with nothing but the pounding of hooves beneath her and the wind in her face filling her head.
Eventually the horses slowed, Pom apparently having worked off enough energy to be happy to continue the rest of their tour at a more sedate pace.
The day was sunny and warm, and it was pleasant to ride through pretty countryside and listen to Imogene tell tales of life here. She had seemed such a creature of the court and the city back in Lumia that it was hard to reconcile the understanding of Imogene she had gained there with the mistress of the estate on display here. But Imogene was clearly proud of Sanct de Sangre and the life that she and Jean-Paul provided for the people who lived and worked on their lands, and the facts and figures she was providing about the estate seemed to roll readily off her tongue.
Cameron joined in the conversation, but Sophie could see he was paying close attention to their route. They passed fields and woods but nothing like a village. Not even much hint of a road bigger than a cart track.
They rode for maybe an hour before returning. Grooms appeared as soon as they had clattered into the mounting yard, but Imogene waved them away, slipping down from Pom with ease. Cameron dismounted, handed his reins to a groom and then came to help Sophie off Chennei's back.
He looked happy after the ride and kissed her fast before turning back to take his horse. "Show me where his stall is," he said to the groom. "I like to see to my own horses."
The groom's eyebrows lifted, and he glanced past Cameron to Imogene, who nodded.
"These three are all stabled close together," the groom said. "If you'd follow me, my lord."
Sophie surrendered Chennei to a second groom but followed along behind Imogene and Cameron. Settling the horses back in their stalls took time. Imogene stayed with Pom and spent a few minutes brushing him. Sophie did the same. She'd taken care of her share of horses growing up, and the familiarity of the task was soothing.
By the time Imogene appeared in the doorway of Chennei's stall, he was more interested in the contents of his feed trough than with Sophie's ministrations. She left him to it and joined Imogene outside the stall. Cameron was still in with Samuel; she could hear him murmuring to the horse and laughing softly.
"He like horses, your husband," Imogene observed.
"He does," Sophie agreed. She hadn't known quite how much. The most time she and Cameron had spent together with a horse had been when they had fled Kingswell after the attack. Not exactly a pleasure ride through the country. "He grew up in the north. There are long distances to cover up there. And they breed good horses." She glanced toward the stall where Cameron was. The ride had been enjoyable, but she was eager to talk to her husband and find out his thoughts on what they'd seen. "Should we get back to the house?"
"No. Let him have his fun. Jean-Paul would say it's a good sign that a man insists on taking care of his horse."
"So would my father. My mother too, I think." Sophie stretched cautiously, trying not to wince. As much as she had enjoyed the ride, now that it was over, her body was reminding her how long it had been since she had been on a horse. Come to think of it, the most exercise she got these days was walking the halls of the Academe. Perhaps she should ask to join the blood mages' training classes. They seemed to be keeping Cameron in shape nicely. She however was definitely out of it. She was going to be sore in the morning, if not by dinner.
"Are you feeling stiff?" Imogene asked. "Was the ride too long?"
"Not at all," Sophie said. "I enjoyed it thoroughly. But yes, I confess that I am feeling it now. I haven't ridden in some time."
Imogene made an apologetic face. "I'm sorry, I should have thought. I was enjoying myself. It has been over a month since I last was here. You can bathe before dinner. That will help."
"I look forward to trying out that tub in our suite," Sophie said. "I think I could swim in it or near enough." The suite that Imogene had given them was several times larger than the rooms she and Cameron shared at the Academe and about a hundred times more luxurious. The bath was enormous. More than large enough to soak every aching muscle she might possess and Cameron's at the same time.
"I may have something even better than that," Imogene said with a smile.
"That is hard to imagine," Sophie said.
Imogene's smile widened. "You don't need to imagine." In the distance a bell began to chime, and her smile faded. "But perhaps that will need to wait until tomorrow. I hadn't factored the ride into my timing for this afternoon, and you will scarcely have time to bathe and change for dinner as it is." She turned to face Cameron. "Lord Scardale, I assure you the grooms will take good care of the horses. And they will be here in the morning if you wish to ride again. But we must return to the house."
Cameron came out of the stall, his expression reluctant. Enjoying himself, Sophie thought. Stealing a moment of peace before they had to upend their lives once more. Perhaps imagining what their lives could be. A house in the country, tending the land, and raising a family was the sort of dream she'd always had for her life after marriage. The sort that Cameron might have also imagined for his life after he retired from the Red Guard. If they ran, it would a life nowhere near as grand as Imogene's, but perhaps they could still find a smaller, simpler version of those dreams.
She hoped so.
But to get to those dreams, they needed to get away. So they had to survive the next few days here with Imogene without giving themselves away
Starting with dinner with the Duq.
Chapter 10
"My lady, could you turn your head to the right, please?"
Sophie obeyed Mari's request, turning her head to the left to give the maid better access, and tried to hide her impatience with the whole process. She'd only had
a few minutes alone with Cameron before Mari had arrived to help her dress for dinner. Not enough time for him to say anything more than he needed more time scouting the estate before they could make a move. So they would continue on. Be proper guests.
After being at the Academe for weeks, she had gotten used to wearing simple clothes and doing her own hair—though she mostly left it to do whatever it pleased—and not having servants to help her dress or be present most hours of the day. Compared to the fishbowl experience of being one of Eloisa's ladies, where there was rarely any time unobserved by servants or guards or both, she'd found it a relief. A return to something closer to how she had grown up.
Simpler was easier.
But there was nothing simple about the deep green bead-encrusted gown that lay in a carefully laid out gleam of satin across the bed where Mari had placed it after bringing it back from being ironed and steamed. Nor was there anything simple about the intricate structure of curls that Mari had spent more than thirty minutes already on coaxing Sophie's hair into.
Anglion women favored braids and curls, often wearing their hair long, but Mari had pulled a face when Sophie had suggested leaving her hair down and Sophie, recalling how Imogene and the other ladies she'd seen at the emperor's ball had worn theirs, had decided it would be wisest to give the girl free rein.
Now, staring at herself in the mirror while attempting to keep still as Mari wielded heated iron tongs with total concentration, she hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. Mari was talented. As elaborate as the style was, Sophie had to admit that her hair looked beautiful. Every curl and roll and tuck seemed to highlight the deepening red shades of Sophie's hair. She could barely see any of her original brown left. No one would be left in any doubt that she was an earth witch now.
