“Cameron,” Liam said, sounding relieved. He wore head-to-toe black, only the blue of the Inglewood sapphire in his ring and the gray glimmer of the pearls adorning his jacket breaking the darkness. His eyes were blue like Cameron’s, though bracketed by deeper lines. But the shadows beneath them and the stoic expression they held were identical to his brother’s.
Cameron let go of Sophie, and the brothers embraced. She looked away, not wanting to intrude. Only to realize that everybody else in the room was staring at her. Jeanne Mackenzie recovered herself first and rose from the spindle-legged chair she occupied to stand beside her husband.
She nodded at Sophie. “It’s Lady Sophia, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Sophie said. Jeanne’s eyes were curious, but she didn’t have time for more questions before the men broke apart and Cameron said, “We need to talk, brother.”
Behind him, the expressions of interest on the other adults deepened. Sophie only recognized a few of them. Which meant, she assumed, that the others had come from Inglewood with Liam. The ladies-in-waiting were schooled relentlessly on all the members of the court, and she had a good head for faces and names. She didn’t think she’d seen any of the people she didn’t recognize before. None of them had any power that she could sense, either.
There was very little magic detectable in the room. Nothing like the roiling power that had filled Eloisa’s chambers. Maybe something from Liam. She didn’t think he’d ever been in the Red Guard, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have been trained in battle magic. Still, the lack of the immediate pressing presence of magic was a relief of a sort after her hours in the temple and with the Domina and the queen-to-be today. Like she had been able to step out of a stuffy room into fresh air for a space of time. But she still made sure her hands were covered by the folds of her shawl, just in case one of the women might know the significance of the sigils.
“Indeed,” Liam said. “There is much to discuss about the estate. And Father.” His voice grew a little rough. “But won’t you eat first?”
Cameron declined with a headshake. “Now, if it pleases Your Grace.”
Liam’s eyebrows lifted at the formality. “If you insist. Jeanne, will you take care of Cameron’s . . . guest?”
“She needs to come with us,” Cameron said.
Liam’s expression turned shuttered. “I see. Well, then. We can go to the study. It’s a mess, but we will have privacy there.” He exchanged a look with his wife that clearly meant “keep things under control here” and then led the way out of the room, through another smaller receiving room, and across a narrow hall into a well-sized book-lined study dominated by a carved blackwood desk. Two narrow cots had been set up near the fire on the farthest side of the room. Obviously, the family was already housing more guests than the suite was intended for.
And now she was about to impose. Her face went hot. Neither of the men seemed to notice.
Cameron held one of the chairs near the desk for her, and she sat, knowing that neither of them would until she did so. The more she could do to speed this interview, the better.
“What’s this about, Cam?” Liam asked, settling himself behind the desk, looking a little uncomfortable about doing so.
“You know that I wasn’t in the city for the attack,” Cameron said.
“Commander Peters told me as much when we first arrived,” Liam agreed. “Said you were with one of the ladies-in-waiting. The one with the imminent birthday.”
“Lady Sophia Kendall,” Sophie interrupted. “Pleased to meet you, Your Grace. My condolences on your loss.”
Cameron was looking at her oddly. “You hadn’t introduced us,” she pointed out.
“Lady Sophia,” Liam said, one side of his mouth lifting in an expression very like Cameron’s half smile, though lacking the dimple and the transformation that Cameron’s smile wrought on his face. “I thank you for your sympathy. I see that my brother has brought you home again.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Cam—Lieutenant Mackenzie has been very kind.”
“I see,” Liam said. He folded his hands in front of him on the table. The sapphire signet ring, slightly loose on his finger, shifted and caught the light, flaring deep blue. “Cameron. You were saying?”
“Lady Sophia and I were in Portholme when the attack happened. As it happened, near a portal. I deemed it safer to take her away from the city until we could find out what was happening. She is of the line direct, after all.”
Liam nodded, made a little “go on” gesture before clasping his hands again.
“It’s a somewhat long story,” Cameron said, “and I know you must have more than enough to do right now. So the short version is that the queen-to-be, on our return here, has decided that I am to marry Sophie.”
Liam’s mouth dropped open. “You?” He frowned at Sophie. “Did you not manifest, milady?”
“She did,” Cameron said.
“Then I would have thought that the queen-to-be would be looking for a bigger prize than you, little brother,” Liam said. “If she’s got a royal witch to go fishing with, she should want to bind one of her lords close again.”
“I rather suspect she thinks she’s binding you,” Cameron said. “A new Erl of Inglewood. An unknown quantity.”
“Eloisa and I spent several summers in court before she was wed. I think she has my measure,” Liam said with a sound close to a snort. “I doubt she’s as concerned about me as she would have been about Father.” He tilted his head, a gleam in the blue eyes—several shades darker again than Cameron’s—that suggested Eloisa might be foolish to discount him. “Which brings me back to why she’s giving you a prize. Did you save her life or something when I wasn’t looking?”
Cameron’s face was set. “No.”
Liam leaned back. “Then perhaps I need the longer version of this story after all.”
“Why? It won’t change anything. She doesn’t need your permission, given I’m not your heir,” Cameron said. “The queen-to-be rarely changes her mind once she’s set her course.”
“Is that so? You seem to know her well.”