by M. J. Scott
Sophie gasped but didn’t pull away. He kept the pressure gentle, more resting his mouth on hers than truly kissing her, keeping the movements small and soft, nipping at her softly to get her to take what he was offering.
For a moment or so, she didn’t respond, but then she took a deep breath and leaned in to him, and he felt the slow roll of power become a surge as she took the power in, drinking him down.
He felt himself tumble into heat and the taste of her as their mouths grew fierce, as she opened to him and invited him in.
It was a fight to keep his head, to remember where they were and what he was doing and that there was no way in hell that he could afford to do anything more than kiss her. His hand tightened around hers, and he kept his right resolutely in the ley line despite the urge to move it to her waist and pull her tighter against him. He counted heartbeats desperately in his head, knowing his was pounding too fast to let him keep any accurate pace. When he reached one hundred, he pulled his hand free of the ley line and his mouth free of hers, the former far easier than the latter.
Then he pushed her away gently and studied her face. Her cheeks were no longer pale, and her eyes were clear. Clear and fathoms deep, flaring pupils darkening them to a shade of pure temptation despite the sunshine.
“Better?” he asked.
She took a shuddering breath, then nodded. “Yes. I think so.” She nodded again, more certainly. “Yes.” She smiled then, the expression rueful. “At least, I have exchanged one problem for another more pleasant.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “And I think we’re back to the point where we need to move away from the ley line. The queen-to-be won’t be pleased if we reveal ourselves before she is ready.”
At the mention of Eloisa, her smile died. It was time to find out exactly what had happened. He climbed to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. She shook her head.
“I think you are correct. Best if we not touch just now,” she murmured as she stood as well. She tugged his jacket from her shoulders and held it out to him. “Thank you. I am quite warm again.”
He took the jacket, looked at it with disfavor. But he really shouldn’t be in shirtsleeves in public with a lady, so he pulled it back on and then nodded toward the bench. “Do you want to walk or sit whilst you tell me what’s going on?”
She studied the bench. “I told you it was nothing.”
“That was not nothing. And I think, unless you were told not to, it would be better if I knew what was going on. I’m going to be your husband, Sophie. It’s my job to protect you.”
“Your job is to serve the queen-to-be,” she said.
“I made vows to her, yes. But I’ll be making vows to you, too. I don’t break my vows.”
Her eyes widened at that, and she nodded. “All right. Let’s walk. This damned dress isn’t comfortable to sit in for long.”
“It’s a very pretty dress,” he said.
She glanced up at him. “Black is not my best color.”
“Perhaps not. Regardless, it is a pretty dress.” It was a simple cut, close to her body in the top half in a way that he appreciated right now. The skirts widened out, hiding her legs and the rest of her shape, but somehow seemed to hint that such things existed beneath the fabric.
Besides which, he suspected that right now he’d like any dress she wore. The only thing he’d like more would be to take her out of one, but that would have to wait. He hoped the damned Domina was doing her job well and would have Eloisa back on her feet as quickly as possible. He was starting to think a prolonged engagement was a very bad idea.
“Let’s walk,” he said before his thoughts could continue much further in that direction. He should offer her his arm, but that didn’t seem exactly wise just now.
He set off along one of the paths that would lead them out of the rose garden and into one of the orchards. It would be cooler there, at least. And, hopefully, still secluded. Most people in the palace had better things to do than promenade through the gardens right now, and it wasn’t apple season.
“So what happened?” he prompted when they reached the outer wall of the rose garden. Sophie was walking smoothly, and her color was still good. She had obviously recovered for now. Though what she might have done if he hadn’t been there, he didn’t really want to think about.
She frowned at his question. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Promise me.”
“You have my word,” he said. He wasn’t keen to cause any more trouble for the pair of them. “This is just you and me.”
“Last night the queen-to-be, she had . . . well, I’m not sure. Some sort of relapse perhaps? A sudden pain in her head. The Domina . . . well, she did something like what we just did. Only she just took my hand and pulled power through me. I didn’t know what was happening. And in the end, I fainted.”
“She let you faint?” His gut tightened as anger flared.
“She was trying to help Eloisa,” Sophie said hastily. “I doubt she was thinking about me. I’m a problem. I’m not entirely sure she wouldn’t be happier if something happened to take care of me.” He frowned, and she shot him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that. I didn’t mean it. Not really.”
Not really. Which meant there was a thread of truth in there somewhere.
“And just now? Am I to assume that she repeated the process today?”
Sophie nodded. “Eloisa was much better this morning. The Domina made me help with a dressing, and her burns . . . well, they looked a month old. So the Domina did it again.” She shivered.
“Are you feeling faint again?”
“No. No, I’m all right. It just . . . It wasn’t . . . pleasant.”
“You fainted again?”
“Yes. And this time when I came to, I heard them talking. The Domina said she thought she could channel more power through me because the binding to the goddess didn’t work.” She shook her head suddenly, looking frustrated. “I don’t understand it. I need to know more about the bindings. About true earth magic. The Domina said something about the temple archives, but I hardly think she’ll let me loose in those. I’m half tempted to talk to Madame de—”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” Cameron said quickly.
Sophie’s expression turned mutinous. “Maybe she could help me. Help us.”
He couldn’t fault her logic. Just the timing. He had to admit to a growing degree of curiosity about what had happened between them, but there had to be safer ways. “I’m not saying never,” he continued. “But there are other sources of information to try first. You haven’t been to the Illusioners’ library yet, have you?”
“No. There hasn’t been time,” Sophie said.
“You should go. This is the perfect time. Most of the Illusioners will be busy combing over the Salt Hall and the other wreckage. No one will be paying too close attention to what books you choose to look at.”
“Unless the Domina has told them not to let me in.”
“Perhaps. Though I’m not sure what reason she could give without revealing what happened. As far as the court knows, you’re a royal witch. You should go now.”
A smile curved across her lips again. “You’re right. I don’t have to be back with the queen-to-be until past luncheon. The Domina sent me out here to recover. So I have time.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Cameron said. It had been years since he’d set foot in the Illusioners’ Hall or had need to investigate the library. Back then he’d been a too-keen, wet-behind-the-ears recruit. This time perhaps he could learn something more useful than where they kept the standard manuals on battle magic and tactical philosophy.
Sophie’s lips were still tingling as they reached the Illusioners’ Hall. Cameron had stayed mostly silent on the short walk from the palace—apparently not wanting to discuss what they had been talking about in a more public place. He had defaulted back to the calm quiet she had grown accustomed to during their time away from the palace. Not a big one for small talk, her hu
sband-to-be. Well, she would just have to learn how to coax him into conversation. There was an interesting man behind the soldierly stoicism. Maybe she could bribe him with kisses to talk to her more.
Though, perhaps that wouldn’t be the most sensible approach, at least not immediately. Maybe after they had been married for a time; then things wouldn’t flare so hot between them when they touched. Until then, and part of her suddenly hoped that it would be a very faraway then, kisses were likely to lead to activities other than talking.
Activities that made the faintest of shivers ghost over her skin when she thought about them. A shiver chased by a blush. She pulled her thoughts back. As far as anyone who saw them knew, they were merely a court lady and her escort. Nothing more.
The Illusioners’ Hall was, or at least, today it appeared to be, made of solid black marble. She was well aware that underneath the illusion was more ordinary stone, but she still felt a small thrill every time she saw it appear as something other than it was. Today in particular it seemed a proclamation of normality, of nothing to see here and undefeated defiance that they would spare the power to keep up their glamour.
They passed up the flight of stairs and instead of going left to the area Sophie had been before, to the library open to all, they turned right and walked to the entrance hall to the library proper. The one where the magical texts were held. A young-looking man in a pale gray novice robe, arms banded with mourning black, opened the door to them. His expression was distinctly unwelcoming.
“This is Lady Sophia Kendall,” Cameron said, and the boy’s face quickly smoothed to something more welcoming.
Still, that didn’t stop him from saying, “And you are?” in a snooty voice.
“Lieutenant Cameron Mackenzie of the Red Guard,” Cameron said dryly. “The queen-to-be sent me to escort her lady-in-waiting to use the library. So how about you let us in?”
The boy’s face flushed. “Yes, sir,” he muttered. “Milady, if you could place your hand here.” He indicated a circle of silver on the inner door. Sophie glanced at Cameron, who nodded, then did as asked. The silver chimed and then flashed white. The door swung inward.
Sophie stepped through into the library. She had heard much about the Hall of Three, to give it its proper title, but nothing had prepared her for the size of the room she entered. It was three-sided, as the name suggested, floor blinding white and walls chased with gold and silver. The walls seemed to rise toward the ceiling forever, far higher than the height of the building suggested was possible.
She squinted upward, trying to see if she could spot the edges of the illusion. She thought maybe there was a faint shimmer about one-third up the expanse, but she couldn’t be certain. Something else to ask Madame de Montesse about, perhaps. She wouldn’t be taught other magics here in Anglion, but it would be a handy thing, in court, to be able to spot an illusion.
Despite Cameron’s warning, she fully intended to speak to the Illvyan woman. She could be careful about it. She would invite her to meet at her parents’ house. That would be out of sight of the court, and if anyone asked, her mother could claim to be stocking the house with suitable supplies for their stay. Madame de Montesse would know about illusions. Women weren’t limited to earth magic in Illvya. Or at least, that was what she had been told.
What she had been told was less and less satisfying with each passing hour. Which was exactly why she was standing here in the library. Best not to waste time. She could worry about Madame de Montesse later. Right now she needed to see what knowledge there was to be gained from the Illusioners.
She studied the triangular room carefully. The only thing that broke the expanse of each towering wall was a ten-foot-tall door. One brown, one red, one Illusioner white. Earth, blood, and air. The three arts.
Perhaps in Illvyan such places would be square. And there would be a blue door to step through. But she was hardly likely to ever find out if that were true, so she recalled her mind to the task at hand and walked toward the earth door. Cameron had said that he would look in the blood mage section and see if they would let him into the Illusioners’ shelves. Technically, men were allowed to know the basics of both arts. Cameron could claim he wanted to brush up on his skills of glamour and petty illusions to entertain the court, perhaps.
Whereas she, well, she was going to have to content herself with what she could find in the section she was allowed to access. The thought rankled a little. Now that she was a royal witch, the thought of being ignorant about the other arts didn’t sit any better with her than it had when she had been studying. But wishing for things beyond reach for now wasn’t going to assist her with her search, and she was going to run out of time today if she didn’t begin.
The only good thing about being restricted in access to just the earth room meant that the boy didn’t try to follow her in. Which meant he wasn’t a full-fledged archivist. Only the archivists amongst the Illusioners were allowed access to the earth-magic books. As she understood it, they swore vows to the temple in addition to their Illusioner brotherhood. Damned temple wanted a little part of everyone, it seemed.
The earth room maintained the illusion of being many stories high, but even though there were rows and rows of shelves filled with books, it wasn’t an impossible number of texts to contemplate searching.
She walked to the nearest shelf and bent to study some of the books. The first one she recognized was the fat tome that had graced Captain Turner’s desk during her lessons. Did that mean that perhaps this shelf held beginning texts? She picked up another of the books, leafed through it carefully. Its contents seemed similar enough to the book she knew that she replaced it quickly and moved a few shelves deeper into the rows.
The next shelf she tried was full of books on healing and common rituals. A glance at some of those revealed that they were full of water blessings and crop lore and the like. Not exactly what she was looking for. No, she needed something older. She moved deeper still, stopping to pull volumes out as they caught her eye. More of the same.
She had nearly reached the last set of the shelves when a slim green book caught her eye. It was thinner and less elaborately covered than the others—the binding looked to be plain green leather without the embossing or gilding that seemed to be the usual for magical texts. Perhaps the lack of ornamentation was what had caught her eye.
She stood on tiptoe to reach for the book, tugging it free of its neighbors with her fingertips. The cover was plain, no title apparent in the aged and somewhat brittle-looking leather, so she opened it gingerly, not wanting to do any damage.
The title page read simply “On Bindings,” and Sophie felt a tingle in her spine. She carried the book over to one of the desks supplied for those who wished to study the texts and started to read.
All too soon she heard the hour bell sounding in the tower that stood behind the building. An hour past noon. She would have to be back in the palace soon. She flipped pages in the book a little faster, feeling frustrated. So far it had confirmed what the Domina had told her, that bindings were a way of sharing power between witches or with the temple or to lend a small amount of power to a man through a blood rite, either on a permanent or temporary basis. She hadn’t, so far, managed to determine how any of these was achieved. The somewhat archaic handwriting was like spider scribblings, each word taking time to decipher. She flipped pages again, going deeper into the book.
The next chapter heading read simply “Amplification.” Amplification? What did that mean? She squinted at the writing, trying to will it to come clear. The inked words were paler and scrawling, making the task even more impossible. Something about two magics? And was that “bound”? Or “found”? The next sentence down started with a phrase that might have been “joining of power,” but the ink was faded to near nothing. The other side of the page was no better. It was going to take forever to puzzle out what it read. She could make out only snippets. Something she thought might be “Unclaimed witch” and “Deliberate or accidental,
when joined in this . . . The two are bound . . . The power grows. Greater than the parts . . .” Accidental? Could power be bound accidentally? Is that what the Domina meant by tangled? That she and Cameron were bound somehow?
She stared down at the page, wishing that sheer concentration would make the words come clear. Unclaimed witch? Did that mean a virgin or one not bound to the goddess? The quarter bell tolled above her, and she swore under her breath. She would have to leave now to get back to the palace in time. Just when she was getting somewhere. There was no way she could take the book out of the library. The Illusioners’ Hall had wards upon wards to protect the knowledge it stored. She was just going to have to find a way to return. Soon.
She pushed the chair back from the desk and walked to the shelves. Acting on an impulse she didn’t quite understand, she pushed it back onto a different shelf from the one she’d found it, sliding it in between two much larger books. The dust coating the tops of their pages told her both that perhaps the archivists weren’t all that interested in cleaning the shelves and that none of them had been moved to seek out treatises on the uses of earth magic in the treatment of sheep lately. The little green book was hardly visible between the two larger volumes. She stroked its spine, wishing she had more time. Then, hoping she had hidden her treasure as safely as possible for now, she turned and went to find Cameron.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sophie practically skidded through the door to Eloisa’s suite as the hour bell tolled two over her head, having made her way through the palace at a pace that was as fast as she could manage without actually breaking into a run. Which wouldn’t do. For one thing, given the current atmosphere in the court, the sight of one of the queen-to-be’s ladies running through the palace might just make people panic. Plus there was always a chance that in her current gown and corset, trying to run could cause her to faint all over again. Or that she might, her head still full of what she had read in the library and what it might mean, run someone down.
