The Shattered Court

by M. J. Scott

  “Are you warmer, milady?” The small fire was as hot as he could make it, but he couldn’t risk building it up to be any larger.

  “I think you should call me Sophie,” she said. “Every time you say ‘milady’ like that, I start looking around for my mother. And we’re hardly in the situation to stand on ceremony, are we?”

  He smiled. “No. All right, then. Sophie. You don’t like Sophia?” She was Lady Sophia at court though he had heard Eloisa’s ladies calling her Sophie at times.

  She shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with Sophia, but my family always called me Sophie. I’m named after my mother’s mother, and she was still alive when I was little and living with us. I think they called me Sophie to make things less confusing. Lady Sophia still sounds odd to me.”

  Cam couldn’t remember which family Sophie’s mother came from, so he wasn’t sure which Sophia was her grandmother. It was a common enough name amongst the court, and there had been several dowager Lady Sophias that he could think of who seemed to be about the right age. Not that it mattered. “Sophie it is, then. Which I guess means I’m Cameron.”

  “But ‘lieutenant’ sounds so dashing,” Sophie said with a sudden grin. “That’s what the princess’s ladies call you. The dashing Lieutenant Mackenzie.”

  “Do they? Goddess, how appalling. All the more reason to call me Cameron.”

  “Better dashing than some of the names they call the other officers.”

  He held up a hand. “I think it’s better if I don’t know.”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “But some of them are quite amusing.”

  “I’m sure they are. But I need to be able to look my brother officers in the eye.”

  “Ah, yes. Can’t upset the dignity of the Red Guard,” she said with another quick smile.

  “We’re supposed to be dignified; we’re royal guards,” he pointed out.

  “I know,” she said. “But don’t you find the court a bit . . . stifling at times? All that protocol and rules and having to find three servants and two page boys just to organize an impromptu afternoon tea.”

  “You don’t like being at court?”

  “Sometimes. I love the princess—she’s been very kind to me—and there are so many things to do and see, but sometimes I’d just like to be home, where I can run around and do what I want and be with my family and not worry every other second whether my hem is one inch too long or if I’m going to say the wrong thing to someone.”

  “I can understand that,” he said. “My family has spent part of the year at court all my life, so I’m more used to it, I suppose, but there are definitely moments when I’d just like to be home again.” Particularly when his father had remained at court and there was no one bellowing at him and his brothers every few minutes that they weren’t behaving as Mackenzies should.

  Whatever that meant.

  These days, however, being away from court would mean being away from Elly. Though perhaps that would be a good thing. There was no future in what they shared, so a separation would bring an ending of his folly.

  Of course, right now he had no idea if there was even a court to return to. And if that were true, he really had no idea what to do next. He went to the door and peered out. Rain still streamed from the sky like someone had opened a sluice above them.

  He turned back to Sophie. “I think we’re here for the night.”

  Sophie looked up. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

  “I know. We’ll start early and get to the portal, and then we’ll be all right.”

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

  There was little point keeping her in the dark. It seemed unlikely that anyone would stumble over them in this hut in the next twelve hours or so. “If all goes well, my brother’s estate.”

  “Carnarvon?”

  “Yes. Way up north. From there, if we need to, we have other options. But if we have to keep going, we need money and supplies, and Alec will give us those.” Presuming that whoever had attacked the capital hadn’t gone after any other members of the nobility. But Alec was second son. Liam was the eldest. He lived on the main estate. Alec’s property was miles away from there, and the portal path there was a minor one. It was the safer option.

  Sophie looked pensive.

  “Don’t worry. It may yet be good news. Now, build up that fire a little. I’m going to check on the horses.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sophie woke to the sound of Cameron stirring the fire. The air was cool—though not as bitterly cold as it had been overnight—and she curled deeper into her cloak for a moment before she forced herself to open her eyes.

  How would she know if her power had manifested? She didn’t think she felt any different. Should she feel different?

  Cameron smiled at her. “Good morning. And happy birthday.”

  She thanked him and pushed to her feet, moving to the door. “Has it stopped raining?”

  Gingerly, stiffness making the movement an exercise in discomfort, she pushed open the half-ruined door and peered outside. The sky was a deep, clear blue—a summery shade that belied the cold. No sign of the storm remained. Which meant they could keep moving. Maybe even get to go home to the court today. She stepped through the door. Then stopped with a jolt. Beyond the center of the little field where the hut stood, a line of sparkling light bisected the grass. It glittered: first gold, then silver, then some strange color that shimmered on the edge of sight. It was bright enough to hurt her eyes, and she lifted a hand to shield them. “What is that?” she asked.

  Cameron looked over his shoulder at her. “What?”

  She pointed to the line. “That.”

  He got up from his spot by the fire and joined her in the doorway. He frowned as he looked in the direction she pointed, and then his face cleared. “The ley line?”

  “That’s a ley line?” She moved her hand to take a better look, then froze again. “Great goddess, I can see the ley line.”

  “Happy birthday,” Cameron said again. “I guess that answers one question.”

  “It’s bright.” She lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the dazzle. “No one ever said a ley line was so bright.”

  “Everyone sees them differently.” He looked at her curiously. “What does it look like?”

  “A line of light. Bright, sparkly light. What do you see?”

  “Only a reddish shimmer. Not terribly bright. This isn’t a major line.”

  Sophie squinted her eyes at the shimmering length. If this one wasn’t a major line, then she wasn’t sure she wanted to see a stronger one. The light was near blinding. And more than that, it called to her. She wanted to go over and roll around in the light, let it coat her skin and—

  “Whoa, there,” Cameron said, grabbing her arm.

  Sophie started. She hadn’t even noticed him move over to her. “What?” she said irritably. Then realized she was standing almost on top of the line. And had no knowledge of having moved.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I just want to touch it.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” She could feel the line tugging at her—warm and tempting. It felt good. What harm could it possibly do?

  Cameron sighed and tugged her back a foot or so. “Try to remember your lessons. Too much power will hurt you if you can’t control it. You can’t just step onto a ley line if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  She frowned and stretched her arm back toward the line, feeling a tingle in her fingertips. Warmth flowed up her arm, and she giggled, suddenly feeling like she’d had too much summer wine. “I can do it.” She didn’t know how she knew, but she was certain it was true. Stepping onto the line wouldn’t hurt her.

  “Goddess save me from young witches,” Cameron muttered. He grabbed her hand and pulled her even farther away from the line, not stopping until they were nearly back to the hut. She pulled against him, but it was like trying to pull against one of the giant oaks in
the castle grounds.

  “Stay here,” he said when he stopped.

  She tugged her hand free with a scowl. “I just want to have a closer look.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should get on our way again. Get to the portal. If we get to Alec’s and it’s good news, you could be home today. Still have a prior oversee the first time you use your power, as it should be.”

  No. She wanted to know it now. Wanted to feel that warmth around her. She stepped a little farther away from the door and then darted toward the ley line.

  Behind her, Cam shouted, and then she heard the sound of him running, but it was too late. She reached the line and stepped onto it.

  Heat and light exploded through her. She’d never felt anything like it before. Never imagined anything could feel like this. It was like standing in the center of something immense and unknown, feeling it spin around her, wanting to show her its secrets.

  She stretched out her arms, tried to pull it closer. The sensations grew stronger. Hotter. Brighter. She felt herself begin to tremble, felt the power bear down on her, the weight of it burning.

  And then Cameron’s hand closed around hers, and he yanked her off the line. The sensation stopped so fast, it was almost like being blinded. She stumbled as her knees buckled.

  “Goddess, what the hell did you think you were doing?” Cameron snarled in her ear. He sank to the ground, bringing her with him. His hand, still closed over hers, forced her palm flat against the damp earth. “Ground it, Sophie. Now.”

  “What—”

  “Do what they taught you. Ground it.”

  She tried to remember. Something about opening. Visualizing the ley line power sinking into the earth. The world still spun around her, and she closed her eyes.

  “Ground it,” Cameron snarled. “Now.”

  She pictured the light, the color sparking behind her eyes. Then tried to grab that image and force it down into the earth. Something shivered through her and then pushed outward with the speed of a snake striking. She heard Cameron cry out, and then things went dark.

  When she came back to herself, she was lying on the grass with Cameron leaning over her, looking frantic. Her head ached fiercely, and she shut her eyes again.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. “You stay awake.” He took her hand, tugged her upright so she was sitting, half propped, against him. “Do you hear me?”

  Sophie shivered as his fingers closed around hers. It felt good. Tempting. Not like the ley line. Different. Something deep and powerful coiled within him, and she wanted to know more. She stared up at him. At eyes that were suddenly a fascinating shade of blue. She felt the pulse of power in him again and felt an answering curl, hot and hungry somehow, low in her belly.

  She tightened her hand around his, the movement feeling as natural as though she had touched him a thousand times before, and she thought she saw a glimmer of light pass through him, like he’d swallowed the ley line. His eyes turned a darker shade of blue, and then his mouth came down on hers, kissing her. Light exploded through her again. Burning and searing.

  It washed over and through her, and she felt a click like coming home and sliding the key into the lock to open the front door. Meant to be. Natural.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, falling back, feeling the weight of him land on top of her with a surge of relief and desire that made her head spin. His mouth on hers was hot, and he tasted like heat and power, the combination addictive, so that she wanted to drink all of him. One of her legs curled itself up around his hip, and Cameron groaned against her mouth. His hand pushed her dress farther up, sliding up her bare leg and higher, her skin burning and aching with pleasure as though she’d stepped into the ley line again in the wake of his touch.

  Everywhere his skin touched hers, the spark and heat and burn seemed to intensify. More than just the humming weight of the magic, this was darker and deeper. Sensation spiking and bursting and leaving trails of pleasure in its wake that made her feel half drugged.

  Cameron made a harsh noise in his throat and pulled her closer as his fingers slipped between her legs.

  Her knees fell apart without her thinking as he pressed against something that felt so good, she thought she might faint. But fainting would mean all this would stop. She didn’t want it to stop.

  She jerked her mouth free of his with a gasp and tugged at the neck of his shirt, wanting to touch him like he touched her.

  His fingers stroked, pressed, then slid down and inside her, and she buried her face in the curve of his neck, mouth and teeth pressing against the strong line of muscle to stop from screaming. The taste of his skin, hot and male and salt sweat, different from anything she’d ever tasted before, was addictive, and she pressed her teeth harder.

  Cameron swore and pulled her head back, mouth coming down on hers, demanding and drugging. Pulling her deeper and deeper into the spinning rush of sensation, further and further from any rational thought.

  His fingers slid free of her, and she moaned a protest.

  “Wait,” he said fiercely before he kissed her again. Kissed her like he meant to brand the taste of his lips and the feel of his mouth on her forever. Somewhere far off she heard the swish of fabric as he pulled her skirt farther up and then another rustle before his hand was on her thigh, pressing her legs farther apart. Then she felt something hard and hot press against her, slide the length of her, hitting all those good places again before it nudged her entrance.

  He paused a moment, and she tugged him closer, wrapping her legs around him and arching her hips by instinct so that he groaned and then pushed and slid inside her.

  There was one bright burst of pain, but then it disintegrated against the sheer pleasure of the sensation of him deep inside her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Goddess, yes.” She arched her hips again, and he began to move. Slow at first. Slow but not overly gentle. Each move strong and sure, burying himself deeper inside. And then not slow either. She caught the rhythm of it, the dance that it became. Retreat and advance and push and slide. All the time with those kisses stealing her breath and the humming pulse of the ley line burning through her, making her want more and more.

  In the end it felt more like a war—or an annexation, perhaps. A hard-fought alliance, each wild thrust a welcome attack, one she answered with her own offense until at last the thin edge of control snapped completely and she tumbled over into someplace beyond sensation. Where there was only the two of them and what they had become.

  She lay back, trying to gather herself, basking in the pleasure still washing through her.

  Until Cameron wrenched himself away from her with another muttered oath.

  Her eyes snapped open, and she reached for him.

  He lifted a hand to hold her off. “No!” He rolled to his feet and staggered back several paces, chest heaving as he fastened his breeches again with jerky movements.

  He might as well have slapped her. The pain of his rejection was sharp and hot. But that didn’t stop the overpowering need to go to him again. She scrambled to stand, pushing her skirts down as she did so. She stepped toward him, felt a twinge between her legs, hesitated, then moved again as the hunger for him rose again despite the other emotions twisting through her.

  “No!” It was practically a shout, his face twisted with tension, and she halted. “Milady . . .” He hesitated, swallowed, softened his tone. “Sophie, please. Stay there.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, milady. That was wrong.” He shook his head, face set.

  “It didn’t feel wrong.” She watched him as she said the words, and the chagrin on his face made her think that he agreed with her. That he had liked it. Which was both satisfying and frustrating when he made no move to come any closer. But then he straightened his shoulders and his expression turned grim once more.

  “Milady—”

  “It’s Sophie.” They’d just—well, she wasn’t sure what you called that. The
romantic poetry the ladies favored spoke of things like the sweet delights of the marriage bed, her mother had used words like “marital relations,” and there were coarser terms she wasn’t supposed know. “Bedded.” “Fucked.” But this didn’t feel like any of that. He’d been inside her. He’d been joined with her. He could at least use her name.

  “I think we’re safer sticking to ‘milady’ for now. Goddess, what we just did—”

  She scowled at him. “It felt good.”

  “It was wrong. I should have—” He stopped, face twisting. “Milady, you just stepped straight onto a ley line without any preparation or knowing what you’re doing. You might as well have just drunk a liter of Iska. Anything would feel good.”

  That struck her as a particularly stupid thing to say. “I’m fairly certain that if I’d kissed one of the horses, it wouldn’t have felt the same.”

  “No. It wouldn’t. And this is my fault, not yours. I should have realized. Shouldn’t have touched you when you were in that state.”

  “You didn’t like it?” How could he have not liked it? She’d never felt anything better in her entire life.

  “I did,” he said.

  “Then—”

  “It was wrong of me.” He looked almost . . . wretched. “The power caught us both. And I apologize. So please, milady. Can you just listen to me and trust me that I know what I’m saying? Magic takes some people this way. Particularly the first few times. It feels good. Makes you want to be reckless. Makes you think you can do anything.”

  “Maybe I can.”

  “No. You can’t. You’re a royal witch. And right now, for all we know, you could be the only surviving royal witch. You’re supposed to be a virgin. Goddess. You cannot do—” He broke off, mouth twisting as if he didn’t know what to say. “That,” he continued eventually. “Have sex. With anybody. Except your husband.”