The Shattered Court

by M. J. Scott

“Where, might I inquire, are your ladies?” Cameron asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

  “Off planning the celebrations,” Eloisa said with a smile.

  “Ah, Lady Sophia. The one you all have such high hopes for.” Sophia Kendall was the last royal female—though in her case the royal claim was quite removed—of her birth year to turn twenty-one. And after her, there was a five-year gap until the next oldest girl with royal blood. Her upcoming Ais-Seann was the subject of much court speculation and anticipation.

  Neither of the two other girls who had come into their majority this year had manifested the gift, and both of them had been unceremoniously married off to minor lordlings and had yet to reappear at court. Cameron wouldn’t like to be in Lady Sophia’s shoes at all. Her fate was to be a pawn either way. All that was to be determined was just how big a prize she would gain for her family. Or the king, really. Cameron had met Lady Kendall’s father, Barron Leeheld, and he had struck Cam as a decent man who had little interest in court intrigues. He had spoken somewhat wistfully of his estate and the upcoming grape harvest, not of whom best to marry his only daughter to.

  “Yes,” Eloisa said. “I think she at least deserves some fun before you men usurp her life.”

  “If she manifests, she’ll have some more training before she’s handed over to whoever the lucky man is, won’t she?”

  “And if she doesn’t, she’ll be married before the turn of the year,” Eloisa snapped. “And I’ll get some new country bumpkin who doesn’t know a hairpin from a hatpin to attend me.”

  Ah, so that was what was bothering her witchness. She didn’t want to lose a friend. “You think she won’t?”

  Eloisa shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Eloisa’s gift ran strongly to psychic abilities, but she tended to keep her premonitions close to her chest when she thought it best to do so. It drove her father, the king, wild.

  “Yes. I haven’t seen anything about Sophie.”

  Well, that was good. Then he replayed the sentence in his head. Perhaps not. “Does that mean you’ve seen something else?”

  She shook her head but didn’t look at him, instead toying with the midnight-colored pearls circling her wrist. “Nothing important.”

  “Highness . . .”

  Silk rustled as she came out of her chair and crossed to him. The wild smoky rose scent filled his nose, making his pulse speed a little.

  “All I see,” she said with a wicked smile, “is a man who is wasting a perfectly good opportunity.” She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “What’s the matter, Cameron? Out whoring last night, were you?”

  She pressed her hand against his chest, and he struggled to keep his train of thought. “You know I don’t . . .”

  Her hand trailed lower. “Saving yourself for me? That’s sweet.” Fingers slid beneath the waistband of his breeches, and his cock rose to meet her. “Why don’t you show me?”

  “Witch.” He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. The princess might not want to marry a minor lord, he thought as she started unbuttoning his jacket, but she surely didn’t mind fucking one.

  As always, it was hot and fast and wild between them. He’d never figured out what it was about Eloisa that drove him so crazy—whether she used her magic on him or whether his power just craved hers—but he felt her trigger the barrier around the room so they wouldn’t be heard or interrupted, and the second her magic flowed across his skin, he was engulfed.

  Green silk tore beneath his hands as he ripped at her dress, desperate to touch her. Her eager response only egged him on. His own jacket and shirt vanished somehow, and her mouth rose to meet his with a hunger that matched his own.

  Spice and smoke and roses engulfed him, fogged him, caught him as his hands closed over her breasts. She moved beneath him, and the buttons on his breeches opened of their own accord as she pulled him closer. There were benefits to bedding a witch, he thought hazily as her fingers closed around his cock again, guiding him to her. Then, as he slid home and she closed around him, he didn’t think anything more for a long time.

  When he finally opened his eyes afterward, Eloisa lay beside him, one hand idly tracing patterns on his bare chest.

  “You have to get dressed,” she said. “Sophia will be here at twelve.”

  The clock beside her bed said it was ten minutes to midday. And the princess trained her ladies to be prompt. Still, he couldn’t quite force himself to rise just yet. “So eager to get rid of me?” He tugged lazily at a curl that had found its way onto his pillow.

  She closed her eyes.

  “Elly?” he said. “Is something wrong?”

  The deep red of her hair caught the sunlight as she shook her head. “No, nothing.”

  Something inside him twisted. His own magic didn’t run much to forewarning or truth seeking, but he didn’t believe what she was saying. “Promise me you’re telling the truth.”

  Her lids drifted upward, and her blue eyes were clear. “I am,” she said firmly. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is just as it should be.” She kissed him quickly. “Now get dressed. I want you to escort Lady Sophia to Portholme.”

  “Send one of the guards,” he said, rolling out of bed. “I’m your bodyguard, not hers.”

  Eloisa walked naked to her dressing table and started brushing her hair, pulling it back into the same loose style she’d worn when he arrived. “Father wants to see me. I’ll be perfectly safe in his chambers. You can even escort me there yourself before you go. Besides, I want some herbs, and Chloe has the best at her shop.”

  “Lady Sophia shouldn’t be going anywhere near Portholme. Or Madame de Montesse. Even with a royal bodyguard,” Cameron said, pulling on his shirt.

  He could see Eloisa frowning at him in the mirror. “If she manifests, she needs to know where to get the best when she needs it,” she said coolly. “I do not intend for her to be fobbed off with inferior tools. Besides, I’ve ordered some things for her birthday. You can collect those and pretend they’re for me.”

  “She’ll be showered with more gifts than she can possibly use for her Ais-Seann.”

  “Most of which will be near useless.” Eloisa sniffed as she shoved a last hairpin in place, then rose and crossed to her armoire. “You know most of the court witches are weak. I’m the strongest by far, and I can’t do half what my grandmother could. Most of them couldn’t tell blindroot from dandelion. Sophia deserves better. And I trust you to see she gets it.” She pulled a silk shift over her head, then reached for the dress they’d left lying on the floor and started working her way into it, easing the sleeves and bodice and the complex folds of the skirt into place.

  He walked over to help. “I don’t like leaving you whilst I’m on duty. You’re my charge, not Lady Sophia.”

  She twisted around and kissed him again, a hard, fast press of her lips that still made his blood sing. “You don’t have to like it. What’s that oath you men swear? Protect and serve?”

  He stepped back and bowed, falling back on obedience because he had run out of protests. “I am, of course, at your command.”

  As he straightened, she smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m lucky to have you, Cameron. My dearest friend.”

  Friend. A two-edged sword, that word. He’d spoken truth to his father. Eloisa wasn’t going to let herself fall in love with a minor noble. Thankfully, he had avoided that trap himself. He didn’t think he loved her. But sometimes he wished things could be different. And he knew if she ever—by some twist of the goddess—decided to flout her father’s will and marry as she chose, not to mention got over losing her husband, that it would be very easy to fall for her.

  “Always, milady.”

  She smiled again, all sweetness again now that he had given in. “Good. Now, how do I look?”

  “Beautiful. You know you do.”

  “Not like I’ve just been . . . ?”

  “No one would guess.” Least of all him.
Satisfaction still flowed through his body, making him wish they had more time; the scent and sight of her were still temptation. But Elly looked every inch the cool, regal princess, even though he knew she’d enjoyed herself as much as he had.

  “Excellent.” She waved a hand, and the shield she’d woven around the room dissolved. “Then we should go back out. Because, if I’m not mistaken, I can hear Sophia in the hall.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Sophie arrived at Princess Eloisa’s apartments, she was somewhat surprised to find the princess in her parlor, feet tucked up under her skirts as she sat reading a book on one of the silk-clad sofas. Alone. Well, alone apart from the silent presence of today’s bodyguard standing just inside the door.

  He barely glanced at her as she entered. None of the Red Guard were talkative, but this one, Lieutenant Mackenzie, had elevated silence to an art form. Sophie couldn’t remember ever having heard him speak unless Eloisa or one of the other soldiers or ladies-in-waiting spoke to him directly.

  “How was your lesson?” Eloisa put down her book with a smile. “I was beginning to think Captain Turner had refused to let you leave.”

  “My lesson was fine, Your Highness.” Sophie willed herself not to blush. She had taken the long way back to Eloisa’s apartments, pausing for a minute or two longer than she should have by one of the doors that led out to the Indigo Lawn to watch the roundball game before the first chimes of the hour bell had pulled her attention back to where she was supposed to be.

  “By which you mean it was deathly dull,” Eloisa said with another smile.

  “Captain Turner isn’t dull,” Sophie protested.

  “No, but learning magical theory when you can’t use it is,” Eloisa said. “I remember that feeling.” She swung her feet down and patted the sofa beside her. “Come; sit down.”

  Sophie would have preferred to stand after spending so long seated already that day, but she moved to the sofa obediently. “Where is everybody?” she asked as she smoothed her skirts and sat.

  “Here and there,” Eloisa said.

  By which Sophie understood that all the other ladies-in-waiting were doing something connected with her Ais-Seann celebration and that she wouldn’t find out anything more from the princess. And that she was probably going to be kept by Eloisa’s side all afternoon, so that she was out of the way of whatever was happening.

  Across the room, she was aware of Lieutenant Mackenzie watching them. Some of Eloisa’s other bodyguards managed to fade into the background when they were on duty so that you didn’t notice them. But Lieutenant Mackenzie didn’t fade. He loomed rather.

  He was tall, dark, and, quite frankly, intimidating. Serious deep blue eyes and a slight red light to his dark hair were the only hints that he had Carnarvan heritage. Otherwise he looked like the very model of a good Anglion noble and soldier. All stoic silent muscle and devotion to the Crown.

  Though today she rather thought the expression in his dark blue eyes was disapproving instead of just serious. But his mood was hardly her concern. No, her concern was whatever the princess desired it to be. “Was there something you needed me to do, Your Highness?” she asked hopefully.

  “Actually, there is,” Eloisa said. “I have an errand for you. Lieutenant Mackenzie is going to escort you to Portholme to fetch some supplies.”

  Sophie stopped her jaw from falling open with an effort of will. Portholme? All the way to the harbor? Eloisa had never requested such a thing before. “But who will stay with you, milady?” She looked from Eloisa to the lieutenant, who was definitely looking disapproving now. He didn’t protest, though, so presumably Eloisa had already informed him of the plan and overruled any objections he had.

  Eloisa waved her hand. “The door guards will serve me well. I have to see my father, but after that I have an urge to be completely lazy and just sit here and read for the afternoon. And it’s far too pretty a day for you to be cooped up here with me just because I’m a sluggard. So no arguments. Fetch your cloak, and the two of you can be on your way.”

  “Stay close, milady,” Lieutenant Mackenzie said as he handed Sophie down from the carriage.

  “I know the rules, Lieutenant,” she said with more bravado than she felt. It wasn’t like she went to Portholme terribly often. And never alone, with just one guard for escort. The few times she’d been here, she’d been arriving or departing the port, her family accompanied by a squad of guardsmen to and from the palace. Once Eloisa and her ladies had ridden this way, but they’d barely reached the borders of the port before the Red Guards escorting them had turned them back to safer paths.

  But she wasn’t going to give the lieutenant the satisfaction of seeing that she was even the slightest bit nervous. He’d been silent, his displeasure with the situation perfectly clear, for most of the carriage ride to Portholme after an initial barrage of instructions on how she was to behave whilst they were dockside.

  Definitely intimidating.

  Sophie knew Cameron Mackenzie was Elly’s favorite guard, but perhaps Her Highness got to see a side of him that wasn’t on display currently.

  Though right now, even if he did view her as an inconvenience, his looming presence was somewhat comforting. With him beside her, so unyieldingly proper and professional—not to mention so damned large—she doubted anyone would be unwise enough to bother them.

  She looked down at the cloak draped over her arm. Rule one of traversing Portholme. Don’t look too rich. The cloak and her plain gray dress should help with that. But it was hot despite the port-fragranced breeze coming off the water, and she didn’t really fancy even the lightest layer of wool against her skin. She was stifling enough in the three layers of petticoats under her dress.

  Besides, what good did it do for her to wear a cloak when the lieutenant’s deep red uniform jacket made it clear what he was? The Red Guard were named for the battle magic they wielded and the blood they shed, not the color of their uniforms, but they weren’t above reinforcing the former with the latter. “I know the rules,” she repeated when he didn’t answer her.

  “Good,” he said, scanning the crowded street before them. “Make sure you follow them.”

  “I’m not a child,” she muttered. She was sick of being ordered and bossed and curtailed. Maybe turning twenty-one wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps magic would give her some tiny bit of control over her life. Or marriage. Married ladies were not as tightly policed as virgins. If her husband—whoever that might turn out to be—were reasonable, she would be able to decide some small things for herself.

  She straightened her shoulders, hoping the low cut of her gown—and she would be very glad when the current court craze for reviving the gowns of two centuries ago was over—would emphasize the fact that she was quite grown up, thank you very much. Not that the lieutenant would notice her that way. Everyone knew he was basically a monk.

  A well-armed monk, she thought as he clasped one hand around his largely ceremonial sword and straightened his pistol in its holster. But still, not one of the ladies who’d tried throwing themselves at him—after all, he was handsome if you ignored the stony soldier facade—had succeeded, to her knowledge. And there were no rumors of his tastes running in a less conventional direction. No counterweight love amongst his brother soldiers. Which would, given he was a third son, be acceptable if his own brothers had already spawned heirs. She tried to remember what she knew of Lord Inglewood’s family, but other than the fact that Cameron had two older brothers, it escaped her for the moment.

  Much like the knowledge that she was female seemed to have escaped the lieutenant. His gaze remained firmly on the crowds of people swelling around them, not so much as a glance at her cleavage.

  “Shall we, Lieutenant?” she said, putting a snap in her voice. The man could at least look. Yes, as a royal virgin, she was off-limits, but how was she supposed to learn how to deal with men as a woman if they all insisted on treating her like a cloistered prior of the goddess? Watching Eloisa gave he
r a good idea of the principles of flirtation, but being an untouchable, unwed lady-in-waiting offered little chance to practice them. Men danced with her at court because they had to. Until she was of age and of power, she was no use to a courtier, and the repercussions for a dalliance with a potential royal witch were severe enough to keep them from trying anything below board.

  “Stay close,” Cameron said again as he offered his arm and stepped forward.

  Sophie moved with him, drinking in the novelty of being in such a place. Portholme felt like an entirely different country from the court and the parts of Kingswell that surrounded it. The smells were different—salt and fish and the sweat of too many bodies rather than the perfumes, lamp oil, and incense that cloyed the court. The salty stink wasn’t exactly pleasant, yet it was refreshing somehow.

  Even more refreshing was the way no one kept their voices to polite court tones. Sailors yelled at one another across the street, carters cursed their horses, and women screeched at the stallholders and the children who ran screaming as they played almost underfoot of the passing traffic.

  And beneath it all were the not-so-distant lapping waves breaking against the docks and the cries of the sun gulls as they squabbled over fish scraps.

  It was hard to know where to look. The cobbled streets were crowded. The buildings huddled together as well. Made of wood and brick and solid gray stone rather than the green-veined granite of the palace, they were oddly foreign. Suddenly the large presence of the lieutenant seemed comforting rather than annoying, his arm reassuringly solid beneath hers and the leather and wool smell of his uniform a touch of familiarity as he moved them smoothly through the crowd and across the street to their destination.

  Madame de Montesse’s store was larger than Sophie had expected, clean and airy as far as an elderly narrow Portholme building could be. As she took in the rows of jars, bottles, and pouches that lined the shelves, she realized she didn’t recognize what half of them held despite all her years of lessons. Which meant they were used for things other than the earth magic she was being taught. Which could be entirely illegal.