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 Sophie. 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.