The Shattered Court

by M. J. Scott

  The streets were oddly quiet, suggesting that the citizens of Kingswell shared Eloisa’s apprehension about the likely safety of the capital. Some would have left altogether, he supposed, fleeing in the wake of the attack. Some might not return.

  But that was Eloisa’s problem. He frowned to himself, thinking of Elly and her injuries. She’d looked slightly better today when he’d been summoned to her chambers so she could give her orders to send him after Sophie, but goddess, the bandages and bruises marring her face still made him feel ill.

  And enraged. Logically, he knew that, even if he’d been there, he couldn’t have prevented her being hurt by fire and falling stones, but he couldn’t help the irrational wish that he could have done just that.

  He was one of her bodyguards. It was his duty to protect her. And instead he’d failed. Both to keep her from harm and to guard the one she had tasked him to watch.

  His future wife. Whose parents were waiting for them just a few streets farther on. He forced himself to try to relax and turned his attention back to Sophie. She had tried to tamp down her happiness at finding out her parents were unharmed—out of deference for his own loss and others he imagined—but she hadn’t been entirely successful. A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth as she looked out the window, and she was creeping farther forward on the carriage seat with every foot they traveled toward their destination.

  It was hard not to feel the envy that slunk through his brain when he’d brought her the news. His father had been difficult and demanding, but his death had punched a hole in Cameron’s world. One more thing to deepen the sensation that the world had tilted and that all was off-balance. Battle mages were taught to center themselves in times of stress or danger, to stay calm and unleash their emotions only when they needed to channel them for their magic. But right now, whenever he reached for that place of calm within himself that he had taken for granted up until now, it shifted and bent, throwing him out of kilter once more.

  “Thank you for coming with me,” Sophie said, turning back from the window. She smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, free of the strain that had been shadowing her expressions since they’d first fled Kingswell.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “Your family will be my family, too, soon.”

  She nodded. “Did El—I mean the queen-to-be—did she say anything more about when we might marry? She didn’t really speak to me this morning.” Her smile vanished like someone had blown out a candle. Her lips flattened, hands twisting in her lap. “I think she’s very angry with me.”

  “With both of us,” Cameron offered. He leaned across and patted her arm. A buzz of awareness hit his skin, warmed, flowed through his body, rousing it. He pulled back, trying not to look too obvious about it. But Sophie’s pupils had flared suddenly dark. It was clear she’d felt it, too.

  “The queen-to-be will forget this soon enough,” he said. Once they were safely married. Though, with no chance to speak to her privately, he had no way to judge how she felt about handing her sometime lover over to Sophie. “She had plenty of other problems to deal with besides us.”

  “I just wish I could do something to fix it. Or at least to help her. She needs to get well. If she recovers, the city will, too. Anglion will, too.”

  “Domina Skey is taking good care of her,” Cameron said. “It’s been only a few days. She will be well soon enough.”

  Sophie bit her lip, and he remembered again what would happen when Eloisa rose from her sickbed. A funeral. A coronation. And then a wedding. “Perhaps you could ask Domina Skey if there is anything you can do to help.”

  That earned him a perhaps well-deserved look of skepticism. “I don’t think the Domina likes me very much.”

  “Perhaps not, but she would be foolish to turn down any assistance she can get at this point.” Domina Skey hadn’t achieved her position by being stupid or slow to use any resources offered to her. The temple had to be stretched as thin as the Red Guard, tending to the injured. Though it wouldn’t hurt Sophie to seem eager to please. Which reminded him of something else.

  “It might be wiser not to be seen with Madame de Montesse.”

  Sophie’s brows lifted. “Madame de Montesse helped us escape. Am I supposed to ignore her if our paths cross? Because that’s what happened. I met her by chance. I didn’t seek her out.” She sounded defensive.

  “I didn’t think you had. But the mood in the city will be dangerous for any refugee for some time to come. We haven’t discovered who was behind the attacks, but the prevailing theory is that it was Illvya.”

  “If it was an Illvyan magician, it seems odd that there has been no following attacks, does it not?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps they miscalculated and got caught in their own destruction. Or perhaps they were working through agents. Which is why it would be wisest to avoid Illvyans right now.”

  “She helped us,” Sophie protested. “She got us away from the attack. She didn’t have to tell us she had a portal. Besides, she’s been here for years. And she swore the oaths of loyalty to the Crown. Otherwise she wouldn’t be allowed to own a store selling the things she does.”

  “Oaths can be broken,” Cameron said. “And I don’t think you and I need any more attention just now. It’s not like you were going to seek her out anyway, is it? So just try not to have any dealings with her until things are calmer.” He thought it was irritation that flashed in her brown eyes. But then she looked away, out the window again as the carriage reached its destination and came to a halt.

  Sophie had barely stepped out of the carriage before the door of the small house they had stopped in front of flew open and a man and a woman he had to assume were her parents rushed toward her, enveloping her in tight embraces when they reached their daughter. Three identical expressions of delight shone from their faces, and he swallowed against a sudden stab of grief as he stepped onto the cobbles paving the small front yard.

  Sophie’s father let go of her and looked past Sophie to Cameron. “And who is this, my dear?” he asked. He was a man of only middle height, his eyes the same clear brown as Sophie’s, dark hair graying. But his smile was warm, and the hand he extended to Cameron clasped his firmly.

  “This is Lieutenant Mackenzie,” Sophie said hesitantly. “He—he kept me safe during the attack.”

  “Then you have my thanks, sir,” Sophie’s father said. “Mackenzie? One of Inglewood’s boys?”

  “Yes, sir,” Cameron replied. Sophie’s father was a marque, the lowest of the three noble ranks, if he was remembering correctly, which made him just Sir Kendall, not a lord like an erl or a barron. “I’m Cameron, the youngest.”

  Sir Kendall’s expression turned sober. “I saw the casualty list. I’m very sorry for your loss, Lieutenant. Your father was a good man. A great loss to the court.”

  “Thank you, sir.” There wasn’t much else to be said.

  “This is my wife, Emma,” Sir Kendall continued, reaching out a hand to draw his wife away from Sophie. Cameron bowed politely.

  “It was good of you to escort Sophie,” Lady Kendall said with a brilliant smile. She shared the same coloring as her daughter and husband, though her hair shone with a reddish tint in the sunlight that made him think she must have some small earth magic. Not enough for the true red of a strong earth witch but enough to be noted.

  “The queen-to-be thought it best,” Cameron said. “The streets are still—nervous.”

  “We know,” Sir Kendall said dryly. “Else we would have been here the day of the attack. It’s taken until now for us to be allowed to come any closer to the city.” He smiled at his daughter. “Which I assume is your doing, my dear. The Illusioners who found us mentioned that your power had manifested. That is a happy thing in the midst of all this sadness.” He bent and kissed Sophie’s cheek, and she looked so purely delighted for a moment that Cameron’s heart turned over. She hadn’t looked like that since the moment they’d—well, perhaps better not to think of such
things in front of her parents.

  He looked away and saw Lady Kendall watching him with a curious expression.

  “Perhaps it would be better if we went inside,” she said. “We have tea and managed to procure a cake. It’s not exactly the birthday celebration we were planning, but it will have to do until things return to normal.”

  She proceeded to move them into the house with the efficiency of one of Alec’s best herders, and Cameron founded himself seated in a small parlor, tastefully decorated in pale green and blue, seated on a sofa opposite Sophie and her mother. Tea appeared, and he drank gratefully, hoping it might offer an antidote to some of the redwort’s effects.

  Sophie cut the cake, and he ate, wondering if she felt as uncomfortable as he did, knowing what they had to tell her parents. He took a second slice, redwort making him unusually hungry, as always, but refused a third politely.

  Sir Kendall—Cameron’s brain offered up Grant as his first name, and he hoped that was correct—leaned forward a little in his chair.

  “Now that we’ve eaten, perhaps we can talk a little,” he said. “The way the two of you are avoiding looking at each other, am I to assume there is something you haven’t yet told us?”

  He looked from Cameron to his daughter. Sophie put down her teacup, the china rattling slightly in her grip. “Lieutenant Mackenzie isn’t just my escort,” she said in a rush. “The queen-to-be has decided that we are to marry.”

  Blunt dark brows flew upward on her father’s face. “So soon?” He looked at Cameron. “A royal witch would normally have her celebrations before any betrothal.”

  Cameron didn’t try to avoid the slightly accusing gaze. “It’s not exactly normal circumstances, sir. The queen-to-be thinks it best if Sophie is married quickly. Partly to show that things are business as usual, I think.”

  “Hmmmph. Well, she could at least have waited to speak to me. The marriage of royal witches is the Crown’s prerogative, but it is a courtesy to involve the parents. It seems I need to go to court and speak to young Eloisa.”

  “The queen-to-be was injured in the attack, Father,” Sophie said quickly. “She’s not holding audiences right now. She needs to rest and recover.”

  “Be that as it may,” Sir Kendall said firmly. “If she’s healthy enough to decide on your husband, she’s healthy enough to tell me so face-to-face.”

  Sophie looked somewhat mortified. “I am happy to marry Lieutenant Mackenzie,” she said. “You don’t need to worry.”

  “And you?” Sir Kendall asked, directing his gaze back to Cameron. “Are you happy with the match, Lieutenant? And your brother, the erl?”

  “I am more than happy. As any man would be who was granted your daughter’s hand,” Cameron said, smiling quickly at Sophie. “Liam will not object to the match. He is a servant of the court, as am I. Not that his objection would change the queen-to-be’s mind. You must know that about her.”

  “She always was headstrong,” Sir Kendall agreed. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to observe protocol. Perhaps I’ll return to court with you now.” He made as if to rise from his seat, and Sophie made a small noise of protest in her throat.

  “It is nearly the end of the day,” Cameron said. “The queen-to-be will be tired. I am on shift tonight—I am one of her personal guard—” He saw Sir Kendall’s brows lift again. “I’m sure I can arrange an audience for tomorrow.” He wasn’t sure, but he saw Sophie’s expression relax and decided that providing a delay was the right decision. Give Sir Kendall the night to think about things and calm down a little before he spoke to Eloisa. A good night’s sleep might reconcile him to the situation.

  “That sounds like a perfect solution,” Lady Kendall said before her husband could speak again. “Lieutenant Mackenzie can send word when things are arranged, and we can proceed from there.” She looked at Sophie. “The queen-to-be hasn’t decided on a date for the wedding, has she?”

  Sophie shook her head. “No. There are other things that must happen first. King Stefan’s funeral. And the coronation.”

  Lady Kendall looked relieved. “Well, that’s good. It will give us longer to get to know the lieutenant. And to make some arrangements.”

  Goddess, he’d seen that gleam in women’s eyes before. Mostly his mother’s when she’d been involved in arranging weddings for his brothers. No good came from such things. But his mother had died shortly after Alec’s wedding. So she wouldn’t be able to try to turn his wedding into a court spectacle. He and Sophie needed a quick and quiet wedding, much as he hated the thought that neither of his parents would be present.

  But perhaps now wasn’t the best time to voice that opinion. Not with her father still likely to go off half-cocked if he thought his daughter was being slighted. He got the impression that Sophie had gotten that stubborn streak she’d demonstrated from him, along with the temper she mostly tried to hide.

  From outside he heard the chimes of an hour bell somewhere nearby start to ring. Six. It would be growing dark. He was under strict orders to have Sophie back in the palace before nightfall. Which was another thing her parents weren’t going to like. But best to get it over with.

  “We should be going,” he said. “It will be night soon.”

  Lady Kendall looked stricken. “So soon? I thought you would be staying with us, Sophie.”

  “The queen-to-be thinks Sophie will be safest in the palace.”

  “The palace has bloody holes in its walls,” Sir Kendall objected.

  “It’s also full of battle mages, Illusioners, and temple devouts,” Cameron said. “Given her powers, she is best protected by those for now. Goddess forbid there should be another attack, but if there is, Sophie will be of interest now that she’s manifested.”

  “All the more reason to hide her away somewhere unexpected,” Sir Kendall grumbled, but he waved a hand. “Fine, then. Take her away. But I expect word of an audience time first thing in the morning. And, Sophie, you are to come see us again tomorrow.”

  “I have to go to the temple,” Sophie said. “I’m having . . . instruction. And I need to attend the queen-to-be as well.”

  “I’m sure you will still have a spare hour or two,” Sir Kendall said firmly. “Come here and let us fuss over you a bit. We’re not going to let the palace steal all of you from us. Not just yet.” He shot Cameron a look that brooked no argument. So Cameron didn’t offer one, just made his good-byes, gathered up his wife-to-be, and fled back to the palace.

  The carriage shuddered and jolted over the cobblestones, and Sophie tried not to wish that she were staying behind with her parents, where things could be uncomplicated for a few hours, whether her father was angry or not. She didn’t think he would actually object to the wedding and, quite frankly, it wouldn’t matter if he did. Royal witches were the court’s to command.

  She wasn’t sure she liked that thought now that it was real. Of course, the court could degree any noble marriage, but in reality that seldom happened where magic wasn’t involved.

  A sigh escaped her, and Cameron looked back from the carriage window.

  “Are you all right, milady?”

  “Yes.” She sighed again, irritated at his insistence on formality. “Can’t you call me Sophie again? After all, we’re going to be married.”

  His lips pressed together briefly; then he nodded. “As you wish. Sophie. When we’re in private.”

  “Then you won’t have to remember it very often until after we’re married. Not if things continue as they have for the last day.”

  “This is hardly a normal situation.”

  “I know. It’s just . . .” She hesitated. “It’s just that we haven’t had a chance to talk. About this—” She waved a hand between them. “And I haven’t had a chance to . . . to apologize. I brought this on you.”

  He shook his head. “It took two of us, Sophie.”

  “I stepped into the ley line.”

  “And I should have thought to warn you not to. Not to mention known bett
er than to touch you once you did.” He shook his head again, looked rueful.

  “You knew?”

  “Knew what?”

  “That a ley line might do . . . that.” She didn’t know how much the Red Guard standing outside on the back of the carriage where a groom would usually ride might be able to hear, so she kept her voice low.

  Blue eyes widened for a second. “That it would make us power-crazed?” Cameron opened his mouth, then paused. “I had . . . heard,” he said eventually, and she knew he wasn’t about to tell her the whole truth, “that if two people with magic do such things, the power can make it more . . . intense.”

  The words weren’t meant to hurt her, but they did. Because they meant that he could have been with any royal witch and he would have reacted the same way.

  She looked away. “I see.”

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I’m not offended. You were honest.” She leaned forward, touched his hand quickly, then drew back as the heat flared between them again. “I would like to think that we can give each other that, at least. Maybe we didn’t choose this marriage, but we can choose how to behave. Give each other respect, and maybe other things can come.”

  He nodded. “That seems fair to me. All right, honesty, milady. I will give you that. If you will do the same for me.”

  “Then can I ask you a question?”

  Wariness. But then he nodded. “Of course.”

  “Is there someone else? Someone you were hoping to wed?”

  He straightened on the seat, large and solid in the small space. “No,” he said firmly. “No one I was hoping to wed.”

  Which didn’t answer all of her question. The part about there being someone else. That made her think there was. Someone he wasn’t going to wed. Someone already married, perhaps.

  “I wasn’t a virgin,” he added. “I have had other women in my bed.”

  That brought an unexpectedly sharp pang of jealousy.