by M. J. Scott
“I regret to tell you, Cameron,” he said, “that our father is dead.”
When they emerged in the portal outside the gates of the palace, Cameron let go of Sophie’s arm so fast that she nearly stumbled. She caught herself on the wall of the small room, her fingers pressing against the smooth plaster for a moment, as she fought down the ridiculous feeling of rejection that mingled with the faint nauseous sensation of the portal transfer.
For a minute or so—the length of their journey back from the portal in Alec’s house—Cameron had actually been close to her again, and she had felt something other than the fear and grief that had swept down over her with each name Alec had recited on the list of the dead.
Her parents hadn’t been amongst the names, which made her feel first glad and then guilty as it became clear that Cameron’s father was only the first of what seemed like the names of half the court.
Cameron had gone stone-faced and silent ever since Alec had given them the news of Lord Inglewood’s death. He had listened to the rest of the list impassively and merely nodded when Alec had told them that they were ordered back to the palace.
Lucy had hustled Sophie off to wash and restore some order to her appearance. She’d found a black silk shawl for Sophie to wear over her sober gray dress, and that would have to do until proper mourning clothes could be found.
Presumably a court in disarray would have better things to do than worry about the finer points of etiquette. Sophie didn’t really know what to say to Lucy, who had just lost her father-in-law and was presumably dealing with a grieving husband and family on top of other losses. Sophie didn’t even know who Lucy’s family was. Alec was Lord Inglewood’s second son, so it was almost certain that Lucy was from the noble families. But Alec was five years older than Cameron and Lucy was also older than Sophie. She didn’t recall ever having seen the pair of them at court in the year she’d been attending the princess.
So she’d merely thanked Lucy for her care and then followed Alec and Cam obediently back to the portal gate. She was surprised that an out-of-the-way portal had a direct link back to the capital, but she was glad that it did.
She wanted to be back in Kingswell. To be at Eloisa’s side. To find out where her parents were and confirm that they were safe.
So when Cameron had taken her hand and tucked her in close to his side, she’d been startled by the rush of longing that had swept through her. Not just to touch him but to stay here with him. Suspended in the moment before they had to actually begin to deal with this dangerous new reality.
There were two Red Guards outside the Kingswell portal—which was not normal but made sense, she supposed.
When she and Cameron first emerged, the guards had drawn their weapons but relaxed as they recognized Cameron. And then her, it seemed.
Because the sight of her made them both come to attention and then bow in her direction.
“Lady Sophia,” the taller of the two, a dark-haired man with deep shadows under his eyes, said. “We have orders to take you to the palace.” He turned to Cameron. “You should report to the commander, Lieutenant.”
Cameron shook his head. “I will. But the prin—the queen-to-be charged me with Lady Sophia’s care. Until the queen-to-be tells me otherwise, Lady Sophia remains with me. I’ll escort her to the palace.”
The guard looked annoyed, but he didn’t argue. Red Guards couldn’t countermand an order from the royal family.
“Report as quickly as you can,” the guard said. “We need all the men we can gather.”
Cameron nodded. “I will. Come along, milady.”
He didn’t look back at Sophie, and she felt another pang, but she followed him to the palace, trying not to wander off toward the shining ley line that ran alongside the neatly paved path they took. She still felt the pull of the power—the ley line here was so bright she could hardly look at it—but it was strangely diluted now by the pull toward Cameron.
“Did Alec tell you anything more about what’s been happening?” she asked. She assumed Cameron had grilled Alec for further information when she’d been with Lucy. There might have been things in the message that were for Cameron only. She’d asked Lucy, but Lucy had claimed not to know anything more. Sophie hadn’t wanted to press her further, not knowing who amongst the list of casualties might be Lucy’s family. “Anything more about who did this?”
Cameron turned his head to her, slowed his pace a little. But kept walking. “Nothing more than it being unclear. Illvyans. Or those who act for them, presumably. There have been no other sources of unrest lately.”
Illvyans.
She’d assumed as much, but still, it was unsettling to hear the words spoken. There hadn’t been a serious attempt on Anglion by Illvya for close to ten years. The seas that surrounded Anglion meant the Illvyan wizards couldn’t bring their demons across the salt water. The last attempt had been an attack on a trade delegation in an effort to substitute a wizard into their ranks. But to set off an explosion in the palace itself? That was unthinkable. How had they breached the—
They came around the bend in the path that brought the palace into view. Or what remained of it. The ley line ended in a pile of rubble where part of the outer wall had once stood.
In the bright sunlight she could see only three towers. Three, not five. And those that remained were the smaller rear towers. The narrow spikes of the Salt Spire and the Sea Roost flanked the larger south tower. The east and west towers that guarded the front of the palace at either end of the northern wall were jagged wrecks instead of the massive gray columns they had been. She stopped, hand on her mouth, as her stomach churned. So much damage—how many must have died?
Pale silver light flickered over the stones and filled the gaps in the walls. Wards, she realized. She could see the wards now. The shock of that didn’t make her feel any better. The eastern wall seemed mostly intact, and from their current position they couldn’t see the western wall, though the west tower itself was nothing but rubble. The east tower was a wreck, too, but more of it still stood.
Cameron halted a few paces in front of her. He stared in the same direction as she was, his shoulders set. Then he turned back. “It will be all right, milady. Come along.”
The words didn’t ring any truer than his denial of her had.
Cameron wasn’t sure where exactly he was taking Sophie. With so much damage to the palace, he had no idea where Elly—no, where the queen-to-be—might be found. His mind kept shying away from looking at the ruined west tower where his father had been with King Stefan at the time of the attack.
The Salt Hall, used for audiences with the monarch, was in the western wing of the palace. So it could be in ruins like the tower. Eloisa’s personal apartments, which she had moved into when she returned from her late husband’s estates after his death, were in the east wing. A break with tradition for her not to be with the royal family, but her father had given in to her at the time. Luckily, they weren’t near the east tower or she might be dead, too. The question was whether Eloisa had stayed in her own apartments or moved into the rooms—if they were undamaged—usually occupied by the king or queen. There was no way to know. But they would find out when they reached the palace.
He was aware of Sophie walking behind him, her silent presence like a tingle of awareness on his back. And he didn’t think the fact that he knew where she was when he couldn’t see her was entirely due to his guilty conscience. He didn’t know what it was due to, though, and the sooner he could hand her back to the court and the temple to go through her birthday rites, which should see her safely back on whatever path had been decided for her, the better.
Oh, really? The voice in his head was scornful.
He tried to ignore it. They reached the northern gates of the palace. The huge gate looked odd standing as it did in an undamaged section of wall. The wards shimmering around the broken towers themselves made it perfectly clear that the gate could do little to keep out anyone who found a way to break the
wards. He knew from his training that the palace had been built so that the walls themselves could stand without the towers, but he’d never thought he’d see that fact demonstrated in real life. The guards let them through with little bluster after their initial challenge. They recognized Cameron and Sophie. In fact, the sergeant in charge of the squad sent for one of the house pages to escort them immediately to the queen-to-be.
The girl appeared within two minutes. Dark circles under her eyes and the wrinkled state of her livery attested to the current state of disarray of the palace.
But she bobbed a quick curtsy and led them back through the corridors toward Eloisa’s personal chambers. The corridors were eerily silent as they moved. No sounds of the usual music or laughing voices. The few people they passed were grim-faced and silent, only one or two sparing them a curious glance. Lord Sylvain stopped to express his sympathy on the erl’s death with a few gruff words and an invitation for Cameron to dine with him if he needed a meal. Cameron nodded politely in response, but he expected to barely have time to sleep over the coming days, let alone take leisurely meals. If indeed he got to sleep at all in the next few days. More likely he’d be drinking the vile redwort tisane that the Red Guard got from the temple to use in times when they needed to go without sleep.
The stuff tasted like drinking death itself, but it worked, even if it left you wishing you were dead when it finally wore off.
A full half squad of six guards stood outside the doors to the queen-to-be’s apartments.
Too little, too late, Cameron thought, and waited to be admitted. He’d braced himself for a repeat of the challenge at the gates—for him to be ordered away—but instead the guards gave way and opened the doors.
The outer chamber—the one he’d last been in when Elly had ordered him to take Sophie to Portsholme only, what . . . ? three days ago . . . was occupied by several of Eloisa’s ladies-in-waiting. Black silk and velvet covered them from neck to toes, layers and frills of unrelenting darkness presenting a picture even more somber than the dull colors they had previously confined themselves to in deference to Eloisa’s unfinished mourning year. Several of them had very red eyes even under the layers of cosmetics smoothing their faces into some semblance of normality. He was not the only one to have suffered a loss.
His mind shied away from the thought and the complicated brew of grief and guilt and relief that was tightening his throat and burning his stomach. He had no time for such things. Not yet. Time enough for grief when he had Iska and his brothers and no pull of duty binding him to put his own concerns aside.
That wasn’t likely to be for quite some time, either.
The ladies started exclaiming when they saw Sophie behind Cameron, giving something of the impression of a flock of crows come to life, but he ignored them.
“We need to see the queen-to-be,” he said bluntly.
Lady Beata, the most senior of Eloisa’s band of ladies, stepped forward and frowned. “The Domina is with her now.”
“I’m sure the Domina will be pleased to see Lady Sophia returned to Kingswell. After all, today is her Ais-Seann.”
Lady Beata’s mouth flew open; then her bejeweled hand flew up to cover it. The jet and pearl and onyx rings glittered darkly in the lamplight. “I had forgotten.” Her eyes—an unusual dark brown nearly as black as the rings that had won her many admirers in the court—narrowed at Sophie. “Sophie, did you develop—”
“That is a matter for the Domina and the queen-to-be,” Cameron said. “Will you let us pass?”
The queen-to-be’s bedchamber was darker than Sophie was used to, the velvet curtains drawn, the light coming from flickering candles and small oil lamps. Normally there would be earth-light globes brightening the dimness to supplement the candles, but with so many injured, presumably none of the temple priors and devouts, nor the royal witches, were wasting power on such things.
The lighting was brightest around the bed itself, though there were too many people surrounding the bed for Sophie to be able to see Eloisa herself. She could make out the figure of Domina Skey, purely because she was dressed in deep earth-brown temple robes, red hair coiled around her head as she bent over the bed. Everyone else in the room wore black.
Cameron approached the bed, and the Domina looked up. And then right past him, directly at Sophie.
“Lady Sophia,” she said, surprise lighting her face as she straightened. Then her golden brown eyes widened. “You manifested, I see.”
There was little to say to that. Sophie could see a glow around the Domina and a fainter version of that same light surrounding those of Eloisa’s ladies who had some power. She assumed the Domina could see the same coming from her, even if she hadn’t noticed anything herself. Maybe you couldn’t see your own power. She nodded politely. “Yes, Lady Domina.”
“Then we don’t have time to lose,” the Domina said. She passed the glass bottle she held to the nearest lady-in-waiting.
“Sophie?” A weak voice came from behind the Domina. Weak but unmistakably Eloisa’s. Sophie pushed forward so that she could see the princess. She reached the edge of the bed in a rush, almost shouldering the last of the ladies-in-waiting who stood in her way aside to reach the inner circle nearest the bed.
“I’m here, Your Highness,” Sophie said, then bit her lip, realizing she’d gotten the title wrong. But right now her brain refused to provide the correct title for a queen who hadn’t been crowned. She was too busy trying not to stare at Eloisa herself.
Half the princess’s head was swathed in bandages, and any skin that remained uncovered was bruised and swollen, livid purples and angry reds marring the pale flesh. Eloisa’s arms, which were the only part of her on view below her neck, due to the sheets covering her, were also bandaged down to the fingertips.
What had happened to her? The injuries were obviously severe if she still looked so bad after being attended by the Domina. Domina Skey held her position by way of being the strongest of the temple witches. She was also the most skilled healer in the country. And yet the princess looked like she had been freshly beaten.
“Sophie,” the princess said again, and one side of her mouth lifted slightly, or Sophie thought it did. It was hard to tell with the swelling distorting Eloisa’s lips.
“Lady Sophia needs to come with me to the temple,” Domina Skey said firmly. “And you need to rest, milady.”
“Lady Sophia is in my charge,” Cameron interjected.
The Domina looked at him as though she’d only just noticed he was there. And wasn’t well pleased to discover his presence. “And you have fulfilled your charge, Lieutenant. The lady will be safe with me.”
Cameron’s face twisted as though he wanted to argue.
“Let her go,” Eloisa said. Cameron turned to the bed, and Sophie saw his face drop into its stony mask as he studied Eloisa. From which Sophie inferred that he was as horrified as she had been by Eloisa’s injuries. He seemed to have forgotten anyone else was in the room as he stared down at her.
The Domina took advantage of his inattention and beckoned to Sophie. “Come. There are things to be done.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Domina whisked Sophie through the palace halls out to one of the stable yards. On the way, they’d collected a squad of Red Guard, who’d jumped to do the Domina’s bidding when she barked a command to accompany them. The speed at which they did so made Sophie wonder just who was in charge of the palace with Eloisa recuperating.
Time enough to worry about that. Right now she had bigger things on her plate. Like the forthcoming Ais-Seann rites. She turned back to the palace, looking the way they’d come just before the Domina hustled her into the waiting carriage. As the door closed behind her, Sophie realized that she’d been hoping to see Cameron coming after her.
But no. Apparently that had been foolish. Cameron was staying with his queen-to-be. She’d tried to tell herself that it was his duty to do so, but she couldn’t help feeling somewhat bereft. She’d grown used to h
is presence these last few days, and then there was the inconvenient thing that had sparked to life between them with the ley line and the . . . No, she wasn’t going to think that particular thing when she was rattling slowly over Kingswell’s cobbled roads in a carriage whose only other occupant was the Domina of all of Anglion.
Temple witches, like royal witches, served the goddess and used earth magic. Traditionally, the royal witches were said to have more power and more obvious influence, but there were always rumors that the temple witches kept a few tricks up their sleeves.
So no. No thinking about the sex she shouldn’t have had and the man she shouldn’t have had it with. She was going to sit here like a good royal virgin and try to remember all those things that Captain Turner and the temple devout who’d taught her had said.
“Nervous, milady?” the Domina said. Her voice was deep for a woman, and rich. It seemed overloud in the small carriage, maybe because the Domina was used to speaking in the vast space of the Grand Temple.
Sophie jumped and then tried to pretend she hadn’t just reacted like a guilty child. “A little,” she admitted. “The last few days have been so . . . so unusual, I confess that I hadn’t time to think about the rites.”
“When did you know you’d manifested?”
“As soon as I woke up,” Sophie said. “I went outside and then I saw the ley line—so bright—and Cam—the lieutenant—told me what it was.”
The Domina cocked her head, and a glint of light through the window caught her hair turning the color to a deep bloodred. “And how did the ley line look to you?”
“Like a river of light,” Sophie said in a rush. “So beautiful—” She stopped as the Domina’s brows drew together slightly. “Is that wrong?”
“No.” A head shake produced more glints of red. “Each sees the power of the goddess in her own way.”
Sophie took a breath and tamped down her enthusiasm. Reminded herself that the city was in turmoil right now and that she had no idea whom she could trust. An hour ago she would have said Cameron, but he had abandoned her without a backward glance. And now the Domina was commanding Red Guards and taking Sophie out of the palace again. She snuck a glance out the window. They were on the right road to the temple. In fact, she could see the faded blue-green of the massive bronze dome that topped its roof from where she sat.
