by M. J. Scott
She put her free hand on his chest and shoved, jerking her arm at the same time. He knocked her hand away, and without thinking, she sent a flare of power toward him and shoved with that, feeling a blow to her torso as she did so. He rocked backward several steps, face registering shock as the hand around her wrist came free. Then, before she could even work out what had happened, he rocked back another few steps, hand flying to his jaw, and Cameron was at her side, his face like thunder.
“Do not,” he said, his voice like ice, “make me hit you a third time. I won’t be so restrained.”
The man stared at him and then at Sophie. “She—”
“I don’t know who you are,” Cameron said. “But I don’t tolerate anyone laying hands on my wife. As I said, don’t make me hit you a third time. In fact, I think you should leave the ball before I am forced to explain to the queen that I found you harassing a royal witch. You’ll find her tolerance for that behavior is quite low. Nonexistent, in fact.”
The man’s face went white, and he dropped his hand. There was a patch of rapidly reddening skin on his cheek, as though someone had actually hit him. But before Sophie could figure out why, the man turned and fled through the door out into the garden.
Cameron glanced around them. She did the same. No one seemed to have noticed anything amiss. No one was staring or whispering.
“I think we should go for a walk, milady,” Cameron said. He took her hand and steered her rapidly through the crowd, not stopping until he reached another of the garden doors some distance away from the one her mystery assailant had exited. They went through the door and down the closest path at speed, not stopping until they were definitely alone in a part of the garden she wasn’t familiar with. Though judging by the strong herb and manure scent in the air, it was likely the palace kitchen’s garden.
“What in the name of the goddess?” she started to say when Cameron let go of her hand, but he interrupted her.
“How did you do that?” he demanded.
“Do what?”
He threw up his hands. “You used blood magic on him. You pushed him away with blood magic. I saw you.”
“I did—wait, what? How? I don’t know blood magic.” Her skin went a little cold at the thought.
“I know,” he said. “That’s what is concerning me. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that he wouldn’t let me go.”
“All you had to do was yell. Any man in the court would have decked him for you. You’re a bloody royal witch, Sophie.”
“I know,” she retorted. “Everybody keeps reminding me of that fact every few minutes.”
“Perhaps you should start paying attention. Thank the goddess I saw you. And I hit him hard enough to rattle his brains.”
“Hit him? You mean that was you? The second time. Using blood magic?”
“Yes,” Cameron said, sounding exasperated. “Hopefully, I convinced him it was me both times. And I don’t think anyone else saw.”
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said, still rattled.
“I do,” Cameron said. “Lord Sylvain was right. You can do blood magic as well as earth. Which means trouble if anyone else discovers it. Lots of trouble. Promise me you won’t do that again unless someone is trying to kill you.”
“I didn’t mean to do it this time,” she said. Her head was spinning. She’d done blood magic? Fear crept up her spine as she remembered what Lord Sylvain had said. That the Domina wouldn’t tolerate an earth witch who broke the rules and used two magics. “Goddess. What are we going to do?”
Cameron shook his head. “Right now we’re going to go back into that ballroom and pretend that nothing has happened. We’ll discuss it later. Come up with a strategy. All right?”
“Yes,” she agreed, though she wasn’t all right at all.
“Good,” he said. Then he pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly.
“What was that for?” she asked when he finally let her go. Both of them were breathing heavily.
“Making you look like we’ve been out here doing something other than talking about you being able to do things you shouldn’t.” He studied her a moment, then reached out and deliberately tugged a few of the curls piled up on her head loose at the back of the arrangement. “There. That should do.”
By the time Eloisa finally retired for the night, somewhere well after two in the morning, Sophie was ready to scream if she had to smile and act happy for one more minute. Her nerves were stretched thin from trying to work out if anyone was talking about her or had seen what she’d done. Several times she’d caught the Domina watching her, but her expression hadn’t seemed any more disapproving than usual, and Sophie hadn’t been escorted from the ballroom by a squad of Red Guard, so she had to believe that no news of her mistake had reached the Domina’s ears. She didn’t think the Domina would hesitate to disturb even the queen’s party if she heard what Sophie had done. It seemed, for now, that she had gotten away with it.
The question was, could she stop herself from making such a blunder a second time?
“Can we go now?” she whispered to Cameron as they watched the queen and her party leave, the Domina at their heels.
Her heart fell when he shook his head ever so faintly. “We need to stay and say good night to everyone as they leave.”
Fortunately, the court seemed to be as tired as Sophie, and soon enough after Eloisa’s departure, they started coming up in drifts to wish her well for her birthday and make their excuses. She braced herself in case the man who’d grabbed her appeared, but apparently he had decided that discretion was the better part of valor and hadn’t returned to the ball.
Still, it took close to another hour for everyone to make their good-byes. Sophie wanted nothing more than to sleep when they finally got back to their apartment, tempted to crawl onto the bed fully clothed.
But they needed a plan more than she needed sleep. “What are we going to do?” she asked as she removed the queen’s pearls and put them back in the warded drawer at the top of her dresser along with the emerald bracelets.
Cameron came up behind her and started to unlace her dress. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“It is the morning,” she pointed out.
“Later in the morning,” he said. “It’s late. Or early. And I, for one, would prefer to wish you a happy birthday properly.” His hands slid into the dress, coming around under the heavy satin to clasp her breasts over the corset. “What do you think?” he asked, stroking softly. “Want to forget all this nonsense for a time with me?”
Warmth spread over her with each touch, sliding through her body slowly, out along her arms, and down through her body to pool between her legs. “Yes, please,” she said, and let him carry her to bed.
It went quickly. Hot and urgent as it had been the first time, both of them mindless with it. But as Sophie came back to herself, lying in his arms in the darkness, the fear and worry returned.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered again.
Cameron pulled her closer, rolling to curl around her, his big, warm body a shield against all the things that threatened her.
“Just you and me,” he whispered. “We’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”
To her surprise, she did.
CHAPTER TWENTY
On first day, Sophie couldn’t sleep. She lay in the dark, listening to Cameron breathe beside her and worrying. One more day. They had one more day of their marriage week, and then she had to return to the ladies-in-waiting and Cameron to his duties with the Red Guard.
He’d taken advantage of their current newlywed status to hide them away for most of seventh day after the temple services, patiently demonstrating battle magic for her, so she could see what it looked like, knocking a cushion off one of the chairs over and over again. Then he made Sophie try to do the same—until she was clear that she could feel the difference between earth and blood magic and know which one she was reaching for. And knew how to brace herself for the
recoil from the blood magic. It took some time to get used to feeling the same pain she inflicted on anything alive returned to her. And Cameron only made her knock the pillow at him for that particular lesson. Even that was enough to convince her to try to avoid hurting someone with blood magic in the future.
“Good,” Cameron said when she told him she thought she had absorbed his lessons. “Now we’ll try illusions. I’ve never been very good at them, but you need to know. Can’t have you conjuring a glamour out of midair in the middle of the queen’s next audience or something.”
Despite his protests that he wasn’t skilled at illusions, the small ones he produced—first a flight of butterflies dancing through the air, then a glamour to turn his dark hair pure black, then a ward that made him disappear in front of her eyes—seemed strong to her. Her first attempts to do any of the same had been complete failures, so he’d called a halt to the lessons and dragged her down onto the carpet to make love to her.
On first day, they emerged from their rooms, visiting her parents in the morning and going to the Inglewood suite for lunch, keeping up appearances of being happy newlyweds with nothing to trouble them. Cameron had taken her down to the stables to meet the mare carrying the foal that Liam had promised her for her birthday. The sheer number of presents she had received from the court had astounded her.
She had piles of silks and perfumes and small baubles and trinkets. Honoria had given her a small silver-chased dagger—suitable for a witch, yes, but Sophie had tested it and the edge was razor-sharp. So she’d put it in the purse she usually carried. And then there was the gun Cameron had presented her with. He’d shown her how to load it and promised that he’d take her somewhere to practice her marksmanship as soon as he could.
She’d gone to put it away when they’d been getting ready for bed but instead had slipped it into the drawer of her nightstand. Then she’d changed her mind again and put it under the pile of pillows she slept on.
Close at hand.
Maybe that was why she couldn’t sleep. She was worried that she’d accidentally shoot herself whilst fumbling with her pillows in the middle of the night. But that was ridiculous because she’d been sleeping like the dead since she’d been married. Well, for the hours of the night they’d actually spent sleeping.
The thought made her smile, and she contemplated sliding her hand down his body and waking him up to see if he could wear her out to the point where she could sleep.
But then she heard a soft scrape that made her freeze. It had sounded like leather on wood. A footstep, perhaps.
Someone is in the room. Her brain screamed the thought. But that was ridiculous. The room was warded—Eloisa herself had said she’d laid a layer of wards to the room—and there were guards patrolling all the residential parts of the palace at night.
She lay, ears straining, heart hammering, and she heard it again. The sound of air moving around someone who was doing an excellent job of being very quiet as they moved along Sophie’s side of the bed.
She slipped her hand slowly, so slowly, scared that she’d make a sound, up under the pillow, and then slid the gun free. Another soft footfall, and she bolted upright, calling the nearest earth-light to light and aiming the gun at the man standing beside the bed with a drawn sword. Her finger tightened on the trigger, but Cameron suddenly surged up in bed. “Don’t shoot,” he yelled. In the same breath, there was a flare of the red light she associated with his magic, and the man collapsed, sword clattering to the floor.
Cameron gasped as though he’d been struck but didn’t stop. He scrambled over her and out of the bed, to grab the sword. For a moment, he looked so impressive, naked and furious, standing over the unconscious assailant, that Sophie forgot to be terrified.
Then logic reasserted itself and her hand started to shake. She dropped the gun on the mattress beside her, unable to keep it steady.
“Who is that?” she asked, voice shaking as much as her hands. She folded her hands over her stomach for a moment, willing the trembling to stop. She was safe. They were safe.
But someone just tried to kill you.
The thought was so ridiculous she almost laughed.
“I don’t know,” Cameron said. “But I’m going to find out. Hold this.”
He passed her the sword. She had to wrap both hands around it and brace the hilt against the mattress to avoid dropping it. Once he was sure she had it, he lifted his shirt from the floor at the end of the bed where she’d tossed it earlier, donning it and his breeches swiftly before taking the weapon back.
The man lying on the carpet wore dark gray and dark brown. He had dark hair and the standard Anglion olive skin, but he was no one she knew.
Cameron bent down and studied the man’s face, a steady, quiet stream of curses coming from his mouth. Then he yanked up the man’s sleeve, to reveal an Anglion crest tattooed on his forearm.
“Do you know him?” Sophie asked again.
“Some of the lower ranks do that—get tattooed,” Cameron said.
“He’s Red Guard?”
Cameron shook his head. “No. I’d know his face. Former guard, most likely.”
“Not Illvyan?”
“No. Someone earning some money as a sword for hire, I’d guess.”
“But what was he—” She broke off. No point asking what he’d been doing in their rooms. That was clear. “He was going to kill me.”
“You. Or us,” Cameron agreed in a flat voice.
Sophie put her hand over her mouth, trying to remember how to breathe. Somehow hearing Cameron agree with her made the situation all too real.
“Sophie,” Cameron said softly. “I need you to get out of bed and get dressed. Can you do that for me?”
She looked at him, shivering.
“Get dressed, love,” he said.
She did as she was told, dragging a dress and petticoats and drawers out of the armoire and pulling them on automatically. The dress she’d taken was gray, one of her lady-in-waiting dresses that she could get in and out of herself. The clothes made her warmer, but she didn’t stop shivering. She came back over to Cameron.
Cameron took her arm. “We need to find out who sent him.”
“How?”
“Tie him up. Wake him up. Make him talk.” Cameron’s tone was grim. It was clear he’d done such things before.
“Tie him with what?” she asked.
“Get some of my cravats,” he said. “They will serve.”
She returned to the dresser and did as he asked. Cameron tied the man’s hands and then dragged him into the bathroom.
Sophie followed, swallowing hard. “What are you going to do?”
Cameron, who was busy securing the man’s ankles together, looked up at her. “I’ll try cold water. That should wake him. I didn’t hit him that hard.” He proceeded to do just that, filling a pitcher with water from the basin and pouring it over the man’s head. The man sputtered and coughed before opening his eyes. He froze when he saw Cameron holding the point of the sword near his throat.
“Who sent you?” Cameron demanded.
The man glared up at him, but he didn’t speak.
“I gather from your tattoo that you used to be in the guard. Well, I’m a battle mage. I assume you know what that means. What I can do to you.”
“Can’t hurt me without hurting yourself,” the man spat.
“Not directly. But there are many ways to indirectly hurt someone,” Cameron said coolly. “For instance, I could make just the tip of this sword very hot. Heated steel does interesting things to skin.” He pressed the point a little closer. A bead of blood welled on the man’s neck. “Very painful, I’m told.”
The man’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. “Why should I tell you? You’ll just kill me.”
“No, he won’t,” Sophie said. “We’re not interested in you, just who sent you.”
“Though, if you don’t tell us, then killing you would be simpler,” Cameron added. “So it’s best for you to be f
orthcoming and live to breathe another day. So. Who sent you?” He held the sword steady, not easing the pressure any. A bead of sweat ran down the man’s temple.
“All right. I’ll tell you what I know,” he growled. “But it won’t help you much.”
“Why not?” Cameron asked.
“Because I don’t know who she was.”
“She?” Sophie said. She swallowed against the sudden sick feeling in her gut. A woman had arranged this? Who?
“Yes. Some girl found me at my lodgings. Offered gold. Plenty of gold.”
“She didn’t give a name?” Cameron demanded.
“No. Just directions to this room and that I was to take care of whoever was in here tonight.”
“What did she look like?” Sophie asked.
“Like any other Anglion girl. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Taller than you. Older, too, I’d guess. Though she had smooth skin, and her hands didn’t look like someone who did rough work.”
An Anglion girl. One with either an indoor occupation or income enough not to have to work. Well, that wasn’t particularly helpful.
“What was she wearing?”
“A dress. A brown dress.”
Brown? As in the color the temple priors wore? Their robes were brown. And in her experience, they tended to favor brown even when they weren’t dressed for temple duties.
“Anything else that you can remember?” Cameron said.
Their captive shook his head. Cameron turned the sword slightly. “Are you sure of that?” The prisoner winced, and another bead of blood rolled down his neck.
“All right! She smelled like that incense the priors use. Made my room smell like a bloody temple for hours.”
Sophie went cold. Only the temples burned the incense used in their rituals. For the woman to have that smell embedded in her clothes, she would have to spend a lot of time in the temples. She had to be a prior or a devout.
