by M. J. Scott
“No.” The Domina shook her head. “No. She has power aplenty. Cracked the earth-light into pieces. No. She has magic. But the binding didn’t work.”
“Binding?” Sophie blurted. She dropped her hands to her sides, curling her hands shut to hide the offending sigils.
“Quiet,” the Domina snapped. “I am speaking with the queen-to-be.”
“About me,” Sophie said, suddenly furious. If she was going to be in trouble—and it was clear that she was—she might as well have all the facts. “What binding? What are you talking about? What was the ritual meant to do?”
“Dedicate you to the goddess,” the Domina said.
“You said ‘bind,’ not ‘dedicate,’” Sophie objected.
“You are in no position to question me,” the Domina said, “and as the goddess rejected you, in no position to be trusted with temple secrets.”
Eloisa looked as though the conversation was giving her a headache. Or a worse one. Whatever injuries were hidden beneath the bandages had to hurt like the very depths of hell. “If she has power, then the binding should have worked, shouldn’t it? She was taught by the same tutors and in the same way as we all were.”
The Domina scowled. “Given where she’s been for the last few days, I think that’s a question best asked of the Mackenzie lad.”
“You think—” Eloisa’s gaze narrowed, her eye suddenly focused precisely on Sophie. She reached out and rang the bell on the carved table beside her bed.
Lady Beata came through the door with a speed that suggested she had been hovering not far outside. “Your Highness?” she said. Her eyes swept over Sophie, clearly dying to know what was happening. Sophie pretended not to notice. She kept her gaze on Eloisa.
“Have one of the guards fetch Lieutenant Mackenzie. Immediately.”
“I think he went to the barracks,” Lady Beata said in a nervous voice.
“I don’t care,” Eloisa said flatly. “Tell the guard. He is to come to me immediately, no matter what other duty he has been assigned.”
Lady Beata cast a sidelong glance at Sophie but didn’t offer any further comment. She simply bobbed a curtsy and retreated from the room.
The silence deepened. Sophie suddenly wished desperately that she did know something about the Arts of Air. Then perhaps she could throw a cloak of illusion over herself and make a getaway. But concealment wasn’t a talent that came with earth magic.
So all she could do was stand and await her fate.
Apparently, the Domina and the queen-to-be had come to some mutual unspoken agreement that there would be no further discussion of the situation until Cameron appeared.
Instead, the Domina busied herself with mixing something from the array of herbs and powders lined up in bottles and jars on the long table arrayed on the far wall and then brewing a tea, which she coaxed Eloisa to drink.
It must have contained something to help deal with the pain, because a little color returned to Eloisa’s face as she drank, and she relaxed back against the pillows, her posture less strained.
Sophie watched the hands on the tiny gilded clock that hung on the wall move around. Each circuit seemed to take far longer than the minute it was supposedly marking. By the time ten had passed, she felt like she had been standing there for an age. With each passing second, the fear bit harder. Her palms were definitely damp now, and sweat pooled against her back, making her dress stick to her from more than the remnants of the temple oil. The room was overly warm, presumably to keep Eloisa comfortable, but that wasn’t the only reason Sophie was sweating. As even more time dragged by, Sophie wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t going to faint. The roar of her pulse in her ears grew louder and her breaths grew shallower due to the nerves turning her muscles to stone.
When a knock came at the door, she started as violently as if the sound had been a gunshot.
She knotted her fingers into her skirts, determined to stay still, but her head turned of its own volition toward the door as it opened and Cameron stepped through.
He’d shaved and his uniform jacket was fresh scarlet. Bright as blood. She made herself look away, not wanting to see if he looked for her.
Cameron bowed as he halted at the foot of the bed. “Your Highness, you asked for me.”
“I did.” Eloisa looked past him to Lady Beata, who had shown him in. “That will be all, Beata. We are not to be disturbed.”
After the doors had closed again, Eloisa waved a hand, and Sophie felt a sudden pulse of power.
“Princess!” the Domina protested. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself.”
“If I’m at risk from a little warding, then you are slipping, Domina Skey,” Eloisa said tartly. “Right now I think it is more important that no one hears what happens in this room than I tire myself a little.”
The Domina shook her head, but she didn’t argue.
“Lieutenant Mackenzie,” Eloisa said. “We appear to have a dilemma.”
Sophie saw the tightening of the broad shoulders.
“I am, as ever, at your service, Your Highness,” Cameron said.
Sophie knew that flat tone. She’d heard that voice many times during their journey. That was his professional, give-no-clues, locked-down voice. She wondered how well Eloisa knew her bodyguard’s moods.
“The dilemma is something that we would not commonly discuss with a man. So I need your word that you won’t reveal this information to anyone.”
“You have my word,” he said. The voice was a little sharper now. As though he thought Eloisa should know better than to question his loyalty. If only Sophie could see his face. But then, if she saw his, her own might give her away.
“Lady Sophia went to the temple to complete her Ais-Seann rites,” Eloisa said. “Normally, as you know, these would have taken place as soon as she woke on her birthday.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Flat again. Flatter than before, if possible. Which meant, Sophie thought, that he was starting to see where this conversation might lead. Just as she could.
Her hand stole up to the pearl hanging at her neck. Salt, protect me. Goddess, forgive me.
“Normally there are certain indications that the goddess is . . . pleased with the outcome of the ritual,” Eloisa continued. Her voice was cool rather than flat. Sophie knew that tone, too. The queen-to-be was unhappy with the situation. With her. With them.
She repeated her plea to the goddess under her breath, frozen in place as she waited for Eloisa’s next words.
Cameron stayed silent, too.
“These indications did not occur in Lady Sophia’s case,” Eloisa said.
“But she manifested. She saw the ley line,” Cameron said. There was no question in his voice, only certainty.
“So we understand. And it doesn’t seem to be a question of power. Only of . . . allegiance.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Cameron said.
Neither did Sophie.
Eloisa looked at the Domina. The Domina gave a short nod, lips pressed together.
“During the ritual, a portion of the witch’s power is . . . dedicated . . . to the goddess. A binding of a kind, you might say, so that part of the power serves the temple and the land,” Eloisa said. “There are very few men who know this,” she added. “Some amongst the Illusioners. My father, before he died.”
Cameron was almost completely still. Only the expansion and contraction of his back as he breathed gave any indication that he was flesh rather than stone. He didn’t speak. Sophie had to remind herself to take a breath, head spinning. Part of her power bound? To the temple? How did that work? And what did it mean?
“In Lady Sophia’s case, it seems that the binding did not take.”
“Does that happen often?” Cameron asked.
The Domina shook her head. “No. Very seldom. Sometimes if the witch has a very small power. But I am unaware of an instance of the ritual not being completed where a royal witch is concerned.”
Another wave of dizziness overtook So
phie. Truly, if this didn’t end soon, she was going to either faint or throw up.
“Never?” Cameron asked, turning his head to the Domina.
“Never,” the Domina repeated flatly. She gestured at Eloisa. Cameron looked back at the queen-to-be. He still hadn’t looked at Sophie.
“The second ritual a royal witch undertakes is on her wedding day,” Eloisa continued.
“I know there are temple rites for weddings, yes,” Cameron said.
Sophie knew that, too. But she hadn’t known that they were anything more than tradition.
“That ritual also cedes a small part of a witch’s power. To her husband.”
“It does?” Sophie said at almost exactly the same moment as Cameron. His voice was startled, the first hint of emotion it had revealed since he had entered.
“Yes,” Eloisa said.
“Men can’t use earth magic,” Cameron said.
“The lords who marry royal witches cannot wield the power directly,” Eloisa said. “But it helps them in other ways. Keeps them healthy, helps them heal.”
It was true that nobles tended to live long lives. But Sophie had never heard even a hint that it was due to anything more than better food and easier lives and more money to buy temple healings when necessary.
“Lady Sophia isn’t married,” Cameron said. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Royal witches are virgins when they undertake their dedication rites,” the Domina interjected. “And when the final part of the wedding rite occurs. There are reasons why this is so.”
“Am I allowed to know what those are?” Cameron asked.
“To avoid exactly this situation,” the Domina said. “To avoid her power becoming tangled with another’s before it can be bound.”
Tangled? What in the name of the goddess did that mean? Sophie bit her lip. Hard. Hard enough to keep the river of questions in her head from spilling out and making things worse.
“Which forces us to an unpleasant conclusion,” Eloisa said. “That perhaps Lady Sophia is not a virgin. That would explain why the ritual didn’t work.” She straightened a little on her pillows and looked squarely at Cameron. “So tell me, Lieutenant Mackenzie, did you by any chance bed Lady Sophia in the last few days?”
Eloisa might as well have slapped him. The bite of her question hit Cameron with the same force as a blow. Behind him, he heard Sophie gasp, but he forced himself not to turn. Not to go to her as his instincts urged.
No. Instead, better to watch the royal witch in front of him. His queen-to-be. His sometimes lover. Who was, if he was any judge at all of her temper, supremely displeased with him.
“Well?” Eloisa snapped when he didn’t immediately answer. “Did you bed the girl or not, Cameron?”
That was a slip, he realized. The queen-to-be should call her bodyguards by their ranks, not their names. He hoped Sophie wouldn’t notice. He was near certain, however, that the Domina would. Domina Skey was fiercely intelligent to go along with the power she wielded. She was the one woman, besides Eloisa herself, he’d ever seen get the upper hand with King Stefan in an argument.
But that was beside the point right now. Right now he had to answer the question. Lying would be useless. Easy enough to have one of the healers confirm that Sophie was no longer a virgin. And he was the obvious candidate, being the only man to have spent time alone with Sophie since she had manifested her power. She didn’t strike him as the type to try to coax anybody else into dalliance before she had turned twenty-one, and the penalties for harming a royal witch—or a potential one—were severe enough to keep any sane man from being tempted. “I—”
“It was my fault,” Sophie said firmly. There was a faint rustle of skirts as she moved to stand next to him.
“You seduced him?” Eloisa asked. “Truly, Sophie, you expect me to believe that?” She sounded almost scornful, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie flush.
But she didn’t flinch or look away. If anything, she drew herself straighter, moving fractionally closer to the bed. “It was the ley line,” she said.
Eloisa’s expression of icy immobility—somewhat of a feat to achieve such a look when her face was so damaged—didn’t alter as she studied Sophie. Her eyes had turned a dangerous green, like the heart of a hunting cat’s gaze. A warning that danger—if not death—stalked nearby. “I fail to understand what a ley line has to do with Lieutenant Mackenzie relieving an unmarried royal witch of her virginity.”
“I stepped into it. This morning. I woke, and we were near a ley line—we were using the portals—and I couldn’t stop myself,” Sophie said. “And it—it . . .”
“The power overwhelmed her,” Cameron said. “I pulled her away, and then, well, we—”
“You fucked her,” Eloisa said flatly.
“It wasn’t intentional,” he said. “I’m well aware that that sounds ridiculous and I’m willing to take my punishment, but it was never my intention to . . . dishonor Lady Sophia.”
“You didn’t,” Sophie said beside him. Her cheeks burned red, but her chin lifted and her back was ramrod straight. “I did. Any punishment should fall to me.”
He heard the Domina murmur something that sounded like agreement.
“No,” he said. “It’s not Sophie’s fault.”
“Traditionally, the punishment for harming a royal witch is death,” Eloisa said. She might as well have been making a comment about the weather.
Sweat began to form under the tight collar of his jacket. He had fucked up. Literally. He had known that the minute his head had cleared after Sophie had come screaming beneath him. But he hadn’t truly thought through the consequences. He hadn’t expected that they would be discovered. Hadn’t known about the buggering ash-blown rituals. How could he?
Yet he had done what he was accused of. And now both he and Sophie were in danger. He was a battle mage, used to peril, and he recognized the scent and tingle of potential disaster and violence in the air.
Well. He had been charged with keeping Lady Sophia safe. And he’d be damned if he would forswear that oath even if he’d blighted his honor. He would make sure she was safe. He would shoulder the blame and any punishment merited.
But to do so he had to tread very carefully. Elly was sick and injured, and he could feel the echoes of her power—angry even though it felt oddly distorted—in the air.
The silence that followed her words seemed to ripple with it.
It was Sophie who risked breaking that silence. “I am not harmed.”
Her voice didn’t tremble. He was impressed. Then again, she had served Eloisa for quite some time now. Perhaps Sophie knew as well as he did how to read her moods. Though now she had the added complication of trying to judge the queen-to-be’s magic as well. She wouldn’t have been able to do that before.
He wondered what it felt like to her. He was male and a battle mage. The currents of earth magic were shrouded to him, so that all he could sense were whispers—like catching a snatch of conversation borne on a breeze. Maybe Sophie could hear every word. She had certainly channeled the power from a ley line without damaging herself or him, other than inciting them to stupidity. She was obviously strong.
Hopefully strong enough for what was to come.
“You could be with child,” the Domina said.
“Perhaps. Though I don’t see a child as harm either,” Sophie said. He thought he detected a faint quaver in her voice. Perhaps. Maybe he was listening for what wasn’t there.
“You would disgrace your family,” the Domina started. “Rejected by the goddess, a child out of wedlock.”
Sophie’s chin lifted higher. “My family loves me. They’d be happy to have me come home.”
“Are you sure of that?” the Domina said.
“Yes—”
“I think we have strayed from the point,” Eloisa interjected.
“And what is the point exactly?” Cameron asked, trying to stay calm. “Sophie is still a royal witch. Does it really matter so
much if she doesn’t have this . . . binding to the goddess?”
The small shudder that ran over Eloisa’s face as she frowned made him feel ill. He wanted to hurt those who had done this to her. Who had done this to all of them. Taken his father. Taken their king. Hurt Eloisa.
Hurt Sophie in a roundabout way. If there had been no attack, then he wouldn’t be standing there. He never would have been stranded with Sophie. Never been alone with her.
An image of her face awash with pleasure flashed through his mind, and he felt the ghost touch of her body on his again. He should regret it.
But he found he could not, despite the wrongness of it. Found, if he was honest with himself, that there was a small part of him that hungered to touch her again despite all his better judgment.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was to free her of this mess. At whatever cost. He took a breath, nodded at Eloisa. “After all, she has served you loyally for what . . . a year now? She is a member of the court and a subject of the Crown. Your subject. What has changed?”
“Royal witches are expected to serve the court through their marriages,” Domina Skey said. “No lord will want her now. Not if the marriage ritual won’t work. They would want to know why.”
Eloisa tilted her head, the movement slow and careful this time, though it was still echoed by a shiver of pain that made Cameron flatten his palms to his sides against the urge to soothe that hurt. That would be one way to make this situation even worse.
“It is true that Sophie has served me well,” Eloisa said. “And perhaps it is truly no fault of either of you what happened.” She sounded less convinced of this part, but the words gave Cameron a little hope. “So maybe there is a simpler solution in front of us.”
“Which is?” the Domina asked before Cameron could.
“She can marry Cameron,” Eloisa said. She met Cam’s eyes as she spoke, as though waiting to see his reaction. Only force of will kept him still through the shock, the words hitting deeper this time. Beside him Sophie made a shocked sound as rapidly stifled as his own reaction.
