by M. J. Putney
“And I always sleep well when you’re close,” he whispered back. His hand drifted down her body, moving very discreetly under her cloak since they weren’t alone. “Good night, my lady.”
His gentle caresses sent pleasant shivers through her. She relaxed back into his firm body. She could almost forget the dangers that lay ahead when she was in his arms.
Almost. Not quite. This time Tory didn’t sleep well, even though Allarde cradled her all night. When Jack announced that the sun was rising and so should they, Tory blinked and rolled onto her back. “I had the strangest dreams. As if I was trapped underground, rowing away like a galley slave or something like that.”
Jack stood and stretched mightily. “I felt like a canal mule pulling a barge.”
“I dreamed I was that Greek fellow being punished in Hades by having to push a rock to the top of a hill, and then it rolls down and he has to do it again and again forever,” Nick said as he creakily got to his feet.
“Sisyphus.” Elspeth covered a yawn. “I guess it wasn’t such a good idea to sleep in a place where there is so much power.”
“I’ll be glad to get out into fresh air,” Allarde agreed as he stood and gave Tory a hand up. “Now we need to find our way out of this cave, find a suitable carriage, and invade the Army of Boulogne.”
“You make it sound easy,” Tory said.
Allarde grinned. “We can hope!”
In fact, their mission did proceed so smoothly that it made Tory nervous. They had arrived at the portal they wanted, which turned out to be only a short walk from the main road that ran between Paris and Boulogne.
Less than a mile north on the road, they found a busy coaching inn and were able to purchase a hot breakfast. Then, his age increased twenty years by Cynthia’s illusion magic, Allarde went in search of the inn’s landlord to inquire about hiring a good-sized travel coach.
There were no coaches available for hire, but with lavish amounts of the gold Allarde had brought and his natural air of authority, the landlord was persuaded to sell them outright a team of horses and an old carriage. The vehicle was shabby, but when the time came, Cynthia could make it look newer and more fashionable.
By midmorning, they’d set off for Boulogne. Jack was on the box driving, his appearance that of a middle-aged coachman. Beside him was Allarde, ready to speak French or spell Jack with the driving if necessary. The two of them were the only ones with the skill to handle a team of horses.
The rest of the party rode inside the coach. Tory quietly watched the countryside and wondered if it was possible to stay this lucky through the whole mission and until they returned home.
No. It wasn’t possible.
CHAPTER 31
Cynthia was buzzing with nervous energy by the time they found a small, unoccupied barn near the French camp. Getting into the camp and close to Napoleon wouldn’t be possible without her illusion energy. She knew she could manage the individual illusions—but could she do everything that was required at once?
As the girls headed into the barn’s tack room to change, Tory said soothingly, “You have a huge amount to handle, Cynthia, but we’ll be here to help and feed you extra power if you need it.”
Cynthia gave her a crooked smile. “I thought Rebecca was the mind reader.”
“It doesn’t take magic to see that you’re ready to jump out of your skin. Remember that we’re a team.” Tory laid a hand on Cynthia’s arm and power flowed between them. “We’ll do this together—and on the illusions, you get to give the orders, which you’ll love.”
Cynthia gave a crack of laughter. “You know me too well.” She closed the door behind them. “You and Elspeth are easy since you’re going to be our lady’s maids. You both have boringly demure gowns?”
“Deeply boring,” Elspeth said as she took off her boy’s clothing, then dropped a dark blue gown over her head. “Tory, will you lace me up?”
Tory complied. “Our gowns are almost identical. Boring.”
As the two maids prepared, Cynthia retrieved her gown from her bag. They’d all brought more clothing than usual to equip them for going into the camp. Wearing their own garments meant Cynthia would need less power to alter their appearances.
Cynthia lovingly removed the strumpet gown from her bag. Made of nearly translucent sky blue silk and with a neckline cut indecently low, it would be perfect for this mission. Of course, she’d never had a chance to wear it at Lackland. Jack would faint when he saw it.
Tory and Elspeth finished changing and Tory bobbed a curtsy. “Your humble maids await, my ladies. Do we look convincing?”
Cynthia studied the pair, then touched Elspeth’s silvery blond hair. “I just dulled your hair, Elspeth. The natural color attracts too much attention.” After she altered the color to a pale ashy tan, she turned to Tory. “You look too lively and interesting. Can you stop that?”
Tory thought, then shook her head. “Not reliably. Can you make me look demure and obedient?”
“A challenge, definitely.” Cynthia had loathed Tory’s vibrant personality when Tory first landed on her as a roommate. Now she liked that bounce. It was so … Tory.
She placed a hand on Tory’s shoulder and imagined her with a drab, unmemorable appearance. When she had a satisfactory result, she transferred the illusion magic to Tory for maintenance. “There. A pair of modest little maids are you. Now it’s time for me to transform myself into a wicked woman.”
Cynthia swiftly stripped off her travel clothes. In her bare skin, the tack room was chilly, so she warmed it with a dash of hearth witch magic as she dropped the strumpet gown over her head. “Lace this up for me, girl,” she ordered.
“I have a feeling I would not like being your maid for real,” Tory observed as she smoothed down the folds of fabric, then started on the back laces.
“You’d be terrible at taking orders so I’d never hire you anyhow.” The silk shimmered sensually over Cynthia’s skin. She loved silk. It made her want to purr like a kitten. She smoothed down the long straight skirt with her hands as Tory tied the golden ribbon that established the waist just below her breasts.
“Now my hair,” Cynthia ordered. She never had a problem sounding imperious. “Lush, decadent waves falling over my shoulders, and that feather thing on the left side.”
Tory obeyed. They’d practiced the hairstyle at school, so it didn’t take long to brush out the waves and pin some of Cynthia’s glorious blond locks up on one side.
Cynthia gazed down, wishing they had a proper mirror. “How do I look?”
Tory grinned. “Jack is not going to like the idea of anyone seeing you look like this! Not to mention that you’ll risk catching lung fever. A good thing we have Elspeth along to cure you if necessary.”
Cynthia perched on a chair and pulled on her stockings, securing them with embroidered garters. “Not needed when there’s hearth witch magic to be had.” She glanced at Rebecca, who had been watching the banter in silence. “We’ll generate some warmth for you as well. Tory, could you bring out Rebecca’s gown? It’s the red silk.”
Tory obeyed. Holding up the dark scarlet garment, she said, “Your turn, Rebecca. This red will be beautiful with your dark hair.”
Rebecca stared aghast at the lightweight, translucent silk gown. “I can’t wear anything under that but stockings?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you don’t freeze,” Tory said.
Looking embarrassed, Rebecca stripped off her clothing. When almost everything had been removed, Cynthia said, “You’re wearing short drawers? What a very odd garment.”
“We call them knickers, and they’re pretty much universal in my time.” Rebecca turned her back and pulled off the knickers. For modesty’s sake, Elspeth hastily dropped the scarlet gown over her head and laced it up the back.
Rebecca turned warily. “The color is good,” Cynthia said critically, “but you’ll need more hair and curves since you’re still too thin after months of being half-starved.”
; “You’re right that her hair is too short, but I think she looks very slim and elegant,” Tory said.
“Most men prefer lavish to slim and elegant,” Cynthia said with authority. She stepped forward and took Rebecca’s wrist, focusing her illusion magic.
“Oh, very good!” Tory exclaimed as Rebecca suddenly appeared to have glossy dark hair spilling over her shoulders and a curvier figure. As Tory moved in with combs to sweep up some of Rebecca’s hair, she added, “You definitely make a fine strumpet.”
“Not as good a one as me,” Cynthia stated, “but very good.”
“None of us could come close to matching your strumpetry,” Tory said solemnly.
“Wait until I redden my lips and darken my lashes.” Cynthia had experimented with cosmetics enough to know how they should look, so it was the work of a moment to make her lips look full and inviting and her eyes sultry.
“Heavens!” Elspeth exclaimed. “You look quite thoroughly scandalous.”
“Just what is required. Now I’ll add the illusion of cosmetics to Rebecca’s face.” She held Rebecca’s wrist again as she added color to lips and cheeks and made her lashes outrageously long and dark. “But magic can’t do everything, Rebecca. Imagine yourself beautiful. Head up, shoulders back. Think of yourself as the kind of girl who can enter a room and stop conversations dead. It’s all about confidence, you know.”
“And to think my goal was always to be respected for my intelligence!” Rebecca raised her head as directed and put her shoulders back. “I am a strumpet!”
The other girls laughed. “It’s a good start,” Cynthia said. “Now put on your stockings and kid slippers, and we’ll go out to see how the lads are doing.”
When Rebecca was ready, Cynthia opened the tack room door and swayed into the main barn. The boys had been grooming and feeding the horses. When they were done, Cynthia would create the illusion of expensive footman costumes for Allarde and Nick, and coachman’s gear for Jack.
When Cynthia and Rebecca entered, the boys stopped dead in their tracks and stared. Jack said in a strangled voice, “I wish you weren’t as good at this, Cinders! Can’t you at least wear your cloak till we get there?”
“I will,” she said naughtily. “But not yet.”
Nick’s admiring gaze was riveted on Rebecca. “If your parents could see you, they’d beat me for allowing this!”
Rebecca fluttered her very long lashes and said in a dangerous purr, “Whatever made you think that I need your permission?”
“You’re getting into the mood very quickly,” Allarde said with a laugh. “Elspeth, Nick feels that Bonaparte is in the army camp now. Can you scry more details?”
Elspeth produced a pocket mirror and Tory laid a hand on her shoulder to enhance the magic. Elspeth’s gaze became unfocused. “He’s in his residence with several men,” she said slowly. “Officers, I think, for a meeting. His quarters are in the middle of the camp and guarded, of course.”
“At least he’s in the right place,” Jack said. “With luck, the meeting won’t run too late and we can move in on him.”
Tory’s brow furrowed. “We studied the layout and strength of the encampment when we were in England, but what about the magical defenses?”
Elspeth closed her eyes as she cupped the scrying glass in her hand. “I don’t feel there is much magic being used around the camp. They probably think an army is protection enough so they’re using their mages in other ways.”
Tory frowned, thinking it was time to check the British wards. She did and swore under her breath. “The wards are on the verge of vanishing! Elspeth, can you find if there is a headquarters for the war mage corps near here?”
“I hadn’t thought to look. Let me see.…” Elspeth studied the mirror again, then sucked in her breath, her expression aghast. “There’s a mage camp very close! Colonel Levaux is in charge. A fair number of mages work under him. There don’t seem to be any as powerful as he, but they work well together. I think they’re completely focused on bringing down the British wards so the invasion can be launched.”
“Shall I use finder magic to locate their camp?” Nick asked.
“No!” Tory shivered. “It’s probably just worry on my part, but I’m afraid that if you seek them with magic, they’ll notice us. I’d much rather we stay unnoticed. I hope the new stealth stones will help us keep our magic hidden.”
“This will be quite a test of Mr. Stephens’s new stealth stones,” Elspeth agreed.
As the conversation about the French mage corps continued, Cynthia noticed that Jack had withdrawn to where the horses were munching on hay. She knew that he loved animals, but she sensed some odd emotion from him. Fear? No, not that, or no more than might be expected when waiting on the edge of danger.
Quietly she followed him to the other side of the barn. “Is something wrong?”
He used a handful of straw to wipe down the neck of a tall bay carriage horse. “Apart from the chance of not living to see the morning, everything is fine.”
She stepped closer so that her silk gown was almost brushing his ankles. He moved away immediately, confirming her belief that something wasn’t right. “You don’t feel fine to me. Is it something I’ve done?” She gestured at her translucent gown. “You know this masquerade is necessary to get us close to Bonaparte.”
“Yes.” He stared at the horse’s sleek neck. “But you’re enjoying it so much that I have to wonder if we have a future together.”
“Jack!” she gasped, feeling as if ice water had just poured over her. “How can you think that? I’m a flirt, but it means nothing! You’re the only one who matters.”
He finally looked at her, his eyes bleak. “You’re rich and beautiful and glamorous. An aristocrat while I’m a commoner. You can have the world at your feet. You don’t need me.”
“Don’t forget that my aristocratic world exiled me because of my magic! I suppose I might be a success as a courtesan if I had no other choice, but that’s not the life I want.” Seeing that Jack looked unconvinced, she laid a hand on his arm, feeling as if the earth had just opened beneath her feet and a yawning chasm loomed. “You are the center of my life, Jack. My foundation. Without you—”
Her voice choked and she couldn’t speak for a moment. She finished in a raw whisper, “Don’t ever leave me, Jack. And believe me when I say I will never leave you.”
His tautness vanished and his arms came around her. “Ah, Cynthia. Cinders. I can’t bear it when you look at me like that.” She felt the beating of his heart against hers. “But we come from such different worlds.”
“You come from a world where people love and trust each other,” she whispered. “I don’t. You are honored for your magic. I was despised. Those are different worlds, and yours is better. I want to live with you forever in your world.” She lifted her face and said haltingly, “I love you, Jack. I’m not very good at showing love, but I swear I’ll work hard until I get it right.”
He kissed her then, strong and kind and utterly reliable. “As long as you get it right with me, Cinders. I love you, too. There’s no one like you. Even if you are a sharp-tongued flirt.”
“Thank God you like me the way I am, flaws and all.” She burrowed against him, shaking with dry sobs. She was going to need a lot of illusion magic to fix herself up to dazzle Napoleon. But that was unimportant.
What mattered was that she and Jack had repaired a potentially fatal crack in their relationship, and now they were closer than ever.
CHAPTER 32
The closer they came to the French army camp, the deeper Rebecca’s nails dug into her palms. She wished Nick were beside her, but he was riding on the back of the carriage on a footman’s perch.
As the coach rolled through the night, she asked, “Do we even know if Bonaparte likes strumpets? I’ve always heard that he and Josephine adored each other.”
Cynthia sniffed. “From what I’ve heard, he doted on her until he found out that she was wildly unfaithful whenever he was away.
So he started taking mistresses. No one will be surprised when we show up looking like high-class doxies.”
Rebecca thought that was good for their plan, but she was sorry that the legend of Napoleon and Josephine’s great love wasn’t true. Apparently she had a romantic heart. Though really, for romance she need only think of her parents, who loved each other deeply and unconditionally. Rebecca wanted that, too.
She was on the verge of obsessing about mixed-religion relationships when their carriage reached a gatehouse that controlled entry to the army camp. One of the guards, a sergeant, she thought, shouted at the carriage to stop.
Allarde was dressed as a very superior footman to match the elegance that Cynthia had added to the carriage. Speaking flawless French, he announced that his ladies had arrived to entertain a very high official in the camp.
Rebecca bit her lip in an agony of tension. They could never have attempted this daring raid if all wellborn students at Lackland Abbey hadn’t been taught French from the cradle so they were as fluent as she was. But what if something about Allarde was unconvincing? It was hard for him to look anything other than aristocratic. What if the sergeant liked being difficult and throwing his power around?
“And who might that high official be?” the sergeant sneered. He jerked open the door and stuck his head in the carriage.
While Rebecca froze in terror, Cynthia leaned across Rebecca and cooed, “The very highest, my handsome sergeant.”
As he stared at Cynthia, whose gown was cut so low that she could raise the dead, Rebecca collected her courage and also leaned forward. Since she was closer to the soldier, she rested her hand on his wrist so she could read his emotions. He was dazzled by them both and inclined to pass them through just because they were pretty girls, but he didn’t want to get into trouble with his superiors.
Time to practice her powers of persuasion. She smiled at the sergeant, trying to match Cynthia for allure. “Surely you do not wish for questions to be asked if we are delayed?” At the same time, she sent the mental message We are harmless and necessary to the first consul. Let us pass!
