by M. J. Scott
Henri shrugged. “All right. But do not take too long. The emperor needs to hear your story.”
She nodded and climbed cautiously off the bed when Henri left the room. Made her way over to Cameron’s side, moving carefully against the lingering aches in her body. Cameron’s face was clean now, and too pale to her eyes. She put her hand on his chest, felt the reassuring rise and fall as he breathed.
Goddess. She could have lost him. They’d fought, and then he could have died. The sudden rush of fear caught in her throat, stealing her breath. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose him. He was what mattered. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, bending to kiss him. “And I love you.” He didn’t stir and she stayed there a few seconds more, trying to convince herself that Rachelle was correct and that he would be fine with just a little more rest. The bond felt quiet but otherwise normal. Nothing to indicate anything amiss. So she would just have to trust that it would be all right. Then she could tell him again so he would hear her. She kissed him again and then left to find Henri and Imogene.
* * *
The conversation with Imogene hadn’t taken long. Sophie had told her what she remembered of the attack and of the sanctii’s help, again leaving out the part about the carriage floating. She had a feeling that would only draw the conversation out, and she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t pass out again if she had to keep talking much longer.
Imogene hadn’t looked entirely satisfied, but she had left to report back to Aristides when Henri declared that Sophie needed to rest.
The bath that followed restored some of Sophie’s energy, making her feel less wobbly and disoriented. She headed back to her chamber intending to sleep, but once there, she couldn’t bring herself to lie down. Instead, she decided to return to the healing rooms and sit with Cameron. If worse came to worse, she could always sleep there, if she needed to. After all, the healing rooms had plenty of beds.
The Academe corridors were deserted, as was to be expected at something close to four in the morning. Even though she knew she was as safe here as anywhere in Lumia, she wanted to walk faster, the silence around her disconcerting.
The creak of a door swinging open as she passed it made her shy like a horse, leaping sideways, heart pounding. When she recovered, she shook her head, tempted to laugh at the overreaction.
Until the darkened doorway suddenly burned with light.
“Is someone there?” She hesitated. After the night she had had, her first instinct was to run, to scream for help. But if there was only another student inside, she would feel foolish indeed. She reached for the ley line, just in case, not entirely sure what magic might help her in the empty corridor but unwilling to be entirely unprepared. One hesitant step toward the door. Then another.
“Hello?”
A figure appeared in the doorway. She bit back a scream. Too tall to be human.
It beckoned to her. “Come.”
It sounded like the sanctii from the carriage—at least she thought it did. Where it stood, silhouetted in the light in the room, she couldn’t be sure. Sanctii voices didn’t have the same variation as a human’s. Though she knew her ear was untrained when it came to distinguishing sanctii. Most likely they were all unique once you knew what to listen for.
“Come.” The sanctii spoke a second time.
It was either do as requested or flee. Was there any point fleeing a sanctii? They could move far faster than humans.
She moved to the door, then into the room as the sanctii retreated. Under the light of the lamps, it was clearly the same near black sanctii who’d saved her.
“What are you doing here?” Sophie asked. And how had it infiltrated the Academe’s wards?
“Find you,” the sanctii said, sounding matter-of-fact.
“Why?” Curiosity was beginning to chase away her fear of the creature. Henri had warned her to be careful, but she didn’t get any sense of danger from the sanctii.
“You need.”
“I need what, exactly?”
The sanctii tapped its chest. “Help. Bond.”
Sophie felt her mouth drop open. A bond? The sanctii wanted a bond? She took a step back without thinking. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know anything about water magic. Not even the basics. It’s not possible.”
The sanctii’s dark eyes were unreadable, but she shook her head. “I know.”
She knew it wasn’t possible, or she knew water magic? It had to be the latter. If she knew it wasn’t possible, why would she be asking?
“I’m sure you know water magic. But that doesn’t help me. I need to know what I’m doing before I could even consider a bond.”
The dark forehead wrinkled slowly. “No. Can learn.”
“Yes, but that takes time. Magic is hard for humans. It’s not safe if you don’t know what you’re doing. A bond is very hard.” She wondered if the sanctii understood. The others seemed to. “Besides, I have a bond. An augmentier. With my husband. The maistre says it would take time to understand that, that we need to study it before I could have another.”
“This?” The sanctii reached out and plucked at what was seemingly a blank patch of air near Sophie’s right elbow.
A sudden pulse of power hit her. Apparently the sanctii could see the bond. “Yes.”
“This important?” The wrinkles on its forehead deepened, looking like crevices carved shallowly in granite.
“Yes. Very. Precious even.” In the distance she was vaguely aware of Cameron. Not quite awake perhaps, but he had stirred in response to whatever the sanctii had done.
“No hurt.”
“What does that mean?” Sophie asked.
“Bond. No hurt if teach.”
Teach? “Wait. Do you mean something like the reveilé? You can show me water magic that way?” If that was an option, why didn’t the Academe know about it? Or maybe they did know and there were very good reasons it was an option not taken.
The sanctii nodded. “Same.”
“But why? Why help me?”
“You need. I saw.”
“Saw? I don’t understand.”
“Too hard to explain in this tongue,” the sanctii said.
That might just be the longest sentence she’d ever heard a sanctii use. But regardless, this couldn’t be a good idea, could it? She gripped the back of her neck, rubbing at aching muscles, trying to think. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” She hesitated. “I don’t even know your name.” Why that mattered, she didn’t know, but it seemed wise to have some knowledge of the creature. If only to help when she tried to explain all of this to Henri.
“Elarus.”
“I’m Sophia. Sophie.”
Elarus nodded. “Yes.”
“You know who I am?”
“Yes.”
The sanctii still watched her. Sophie wondered if she found this conversation as frustrating as Sophie did, unable to speak easily in Illvyan.
“And it was you who helped my husband at the palace. At the ball?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Saw you. Saw need.”
Well, that was clear as salt ash. But after tonight she knew she would not be returning to Anglion any time soon. Even though she’d said to Henri that Cameron would have to agree, she couldn’t see how he could possibly disagree with her. Those men who’d tried to take her had been enemies, not allies. Wherever they had intended to take her, nothing good could be waiting. Anglion was no longer for her. Or Cameron. She’d told him she would let him leave. Maybe she would have to. But regardless, she would protect what was hers.
She stared at the sanctii, weighing the options. Learning water magic quickly. Why shouldn’t she? “If you teach me, you want me to bond with you?”
The sanctii nodded. “Yes.”
So. Knowledge with a price. Which was always the way, in her experience. Tying herself to a sanctii. A being she’d grown up believing was a demon. Well, many mages before her had done it and survived. Even Anglions, once upon
a time, it seemed.
If there was one thing she had learned in the last few days it was that sanctii were not to be underestimated. And that they protected their mages. It seemed the fastest way of keeping herself and Cameron safe. She couldn’t command guards or an army to keep them safe. But she might just be able to command a sanctii.
Command? Was that the right word? Elarus was offering. She’d always thought a mage compelled a sanctii to form the bond. “Why do you want this? Isn’t it a burden to one of your kind? To be controlled by a mage?”
“Your world. Different. Magic. Different. We help, we see.” Elarus didn’t sound perturbed by the thought. Which made Sophie wonder if the water mages were in as much control over their sanctii as they thought. Or whether, to a sanctii, a human life was just too short a period of time to be concerned with having to obey someone. Like taking on an apprenticeship with an obnoxious master, maybe. A short period of boredom in exchange for the knowledge and skills gained.
And, in truth, there seemed to be little risk to a sanctii in the bond. She’d never heard in any of the tales of sanctii being killed. Just of the water mages who wielded their power suffering various terrible fates.
But what she didn’t know was what risks there were to her if she took what Elarus was offering. It might hurt her. Kill her. Or damage her bond with Cameron, regardless of what the sanctii said.
Cameron.
She thought of him, lying in the bed in the healer’s rooms where she’d left him. If Elarus hadn’t stopped the man with the gun, she might be dead, or Cameron might. And why would a sanctii help her only to try and harm her later? Other than a headache, the reveilé hadn’t done her any harm. What would she risk to keep Cameron safe? She loved him, bond or no bond. If he didn’t truly love her, perhaps it was best to know. If the bond was shattered, then he would be free to do as he chose. He could go home if he wanted to. If he didn’t love her. And if he did, he should want to stay no matter if they shared a bond or not.
To keep him safe, she would let him go. She owed him that.
She extended her hand, tried to pretend she couldn’t see it shaking. “Very well then,” she said to Elarus. “Show me.”
Elarus took her hand. Wrapped her long cool fingers around Sophie’s. The pain when it came was far worse than the reveilé and seemed to last longer. She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t been set on fire or flayed or shattered into pieces. She heard herself scream, somewhere far in the distance, and then suddenly the pain ceased, leaving her a crumpled, sweating mess kneeling on the floor, panting for breath.
“There now, it is done,” Elarus said, and Sophie realized she could understand the words that were not spoken in any human tongue.
She looked up at the sanctii, trying to slow her pounding heart, scrubbing the dampness of tears off her face. Her head ached like fire. But she climbed to her feet, standing somewhat shakily.
“Good,” she said. “When I learn how to work with whatever it is you just dumped into my head, we can see about that—”
The door to the room flew open, crashing into a wall with enough force to make the lamps above their head dance.
“Sophie,” Cameron roared from the doorway. “What in the thrice-damned name of the goddess did you just do?”
Chapter 20
His head was pounding like someone had used it as a target in sword practice as he stared at Sophie. And the sanctii standing next to her. Who looked remarkably like the one who’d been at the ball.
Who also, presumably, had something to do with the shrieking jolt of power and pain that had blasted down the bond, sending him bolting upright in the healer’s room with only one thought top of mind—to get to Sophie.
The creature, looking at him through those black, depthless eyes, seemed unconcerned by his sudden appearance. Sophie, on the other hand, looked astonished. Astonished and . . . guilty.
“Yes, Lady Scardale, I would very much like the answer to that question as well.” Maistre Matin shouldered his way past Cameron into the room and Cameron became aware that the Academe was rousing to life behind him, doors slamming and footsteps hurrying toward them.
Sophie’s chin lifted. “Elarus offered to teach me water magic.”
“Sweet suffering—” Henri broke off the words. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? No. Of course you don’t. Anglions!” He threw up his hands.
“What did you do?” Cameron repeated, stalking over to Sophie. She looked . . . well, a lot like he felt. Pale and blotchy. Her brown eyes squinting slightly as though the light hurt them. If she had half the headache he did, they probably did.
“I accepted her offer,” Sophie said.
“Is that what I felt?” Cameron demanded at the same time Henri said, “You did what?”
“She taught me water magic,” Sophie said, glancing up to the sanctii. “I think.”
Henri started swearing in a low tone. The words weren’t Illvyan or Anglion but they were clearly profanities. “You think!” he managed after a minute or two. “That could have killed you. Did you not stop to think that if this were a safe way to learn magic that we would not have to bother with this entire institution?” He waved his arms wildly as though lost for words.
“I thought there may be a risk,” Sophie admitted.
“Why in the name of the goddess would you do such a thing?” Cameron asked. There was a padded chair to his left and he gripped its back, not entirely sure his legs would keep him upright. Could have killed her? He could have lost her? Forever? His head throbbed again and he pushed two fingers into the middle of his forehead where the pain was the worst. It did nothing to ease the sensation.
Why would Sophie risk her life? Let alone decide to learn water magic . . . which would mean that she couldn’t return to Anglion.
The memories of the night suddenly crashed over him. The palace. Dinner. Sophie’s declaration. Him yelling at her. A carriage ride, a flash of light, and then . . . nothing. Nothing until he’d woken up to the sensation that someone had just shoved a red-hot poker into his brain. In the healer’s room. What had happened?
“I did what I needed to do to keep us safe,” Sophie said. She was shaking slightly and he moved without thinking, gathering her into his arms and pulling her down on his lap into another chair. She smelled of the oils she liked to use in her bath, and sweat, and Sophie.
He could have lost her. His arms tightened involuntarily.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
She shifted on his lap to look down at him. “What do you remember of tonight?”
“I remember dinner. And . . . after dinner.” He reddened at the memory of their fight. “Then the carriage. Then . . . nothing.” He frowned, shaking his head softly as though he could dislodge the memories and bring them forth, but his mind stayed stubbornly blank.
“Someone tried to blow up our carriage,” she said. “They tried to take me.”
She was trembling, he realized, and he pulled her closer, wanting to ease the fear in her voice.
“They spoke Anglish, Cameron. Anglish. They wanted to take me. Force me back, I think. I can’t go back there. I don’t think I’d live very long if I did.”
Rage burned through him so white-hot for a moment it chased away any other sensation. Someone had tried to take her? To kidnap her? To drag her back to face some false charge? “I’ll kill them,” he muttered.
Sophie actually smiled at that.
He tried to let go of the anger. To tamp it down so he could think. Anger could wait. There would be time to use it. But not until he had the whole story of what had happened. And of what, exactly, Sophie had done. “Go on.”
“Elarus helped me,” she said. “Like she did you in the ballroom. They would have taken me if she hadn’t come. They may well have killed you and Henri. You were both unconscious.”
“So you let her teach you water magic to say thank you?” He still didn’t understand.
“No, I did it because, as far as I can tell, having
a sanctii is as near a guarantee of safety that we might be able to come by. Now that she’s taught me, once I know what I’m doing, I can bond her and we’ll be safe.” She stared down at him. “I’m sorry, I know this means I can’t go back. I’ll understand if you want to.”
“You think I’d go back there without you? Did that sanctii addle your brains?” He pulled her down and kissed her. “Body and blood, goddess damn it, Sophie. Body and blood. You’re mine and I am yours. So I guess I’ll get used to a sanctii if that’s what you want. If you bond with her.”
“If you bond her?” Madame Simsa said from the doorway. “What do you mean ‘if’? Do none of you have eyes in your head? She and the sanctii are already bonded. What do you think made so much noise and woke half the Academe?”
Sophie twisted, mouth falling open. He was fairly sure his own expression mirrored hers. Madame Simsa was making her slow way across the room, her monkey at her heels.
“What do you mean?” Sophie said.
“I mean that creature bonded you somehow.” Madame Simsa pointed to the space between Sophie and the sanctii—Elarus, was that what Sophie had called her? “Can’t you see the link?”
What was she talking about? Link? He remembered then what Sophie had taught him. About seeing the ley line connections. The thought of using any form of magic made his head throb, but he made an effort. Sure enough, glimmering faintly like a row of stars hanging in midair, there was a line of power running from Sophie to Elarus.
“That’s a bond?” He had no idea what he was looking at. He hadn’t been able to see the bond between Sophie and himself when she’d taught him any more than she had.
“Yes,” Madame Simsa said shortly. “Admittedly, it’s a little different from the usual sanctii bond. I imagine that’s because it wasn’t Sophie controlling the magic when it was formed.” Her gaze snapped to Sophie. “I should have thought that one accidental bond would be enough for anybody, child. What were you thinking?”
“Not accident,” Elarus said abruptly.
Madame Simsa’s focus moved upward to the sanctii’s face, her expression cool. “Maybe not on your part. I won’t ask you what you were thinking because I’m sure you won’t tell me. Sophie, did you know what she intended?”
