“Lady Sophia?”
The voice jerked her back to reality. She turned in the direction of the sound to discover Madame de Montesse was standing a little behind her on the path. The Illvyan woman was carrying a stack of neatly wrapped parcels, and a younger woman stood with her, carrying even more boxes and bags. Unlike Sophie, who was feeling distinctly rumpled by the day’s activities, Madame de Montesse looked immaculate, from the tips of the polished black boots just visible beneath her skirts to the neat straw hat hiding her extraordinary hair.
“Madame de Montesse,” Sophie said, a little warily. “Good afternoon.”
Madame de Montesse smiled at her. “I am glad to see you safely returned to Kingswell, milady.” Her dark eyes narrowed a little. “And felicitations on your birthday, I see.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said. Madame de Montesse could clearly tell that Sophie’s power had manifested. “What brings you to court?” An Illvyan, even one who had lived in Kingswell for as many years as Madame de Montesse had, couldn’t be the most welcome of sights in the palace now.
“I am bringing some supplies to the healers.” A particularly Illvyan shrug flowed through her shoulders. “Doing my part. And you? I would have thought they’d be making sure you stayed safely in the palace.”
They both looked toward the main gate flanked by the broken wall and the piles of rubble where the towers had stood. Workmen were moving stones but it would take time for any repairs to be completed. Hardly a haven of safety.
“I’ve been to the temple,” Sophie said, averting her gaze from the broken towers.
“Ah, yes. Lessons.” Madame de Montesse averted her nose. “So tiresome.”
“But necessary.”
Another shrug. Which reminded Sophie that Madame de Montesse was a free witch. Not sworn to the temple. At least not here in Anglion. Perhaps she might know something that would help Sophie with her problem. Perhaps Illvyans knew of other ways to funnel power to the goddess. Or how to manage if she couldn’t. The Domina hadn’t brought up the question of her failed rites again, and Sophie wasn’t going to be the first to raise the subject with her. Nor was she comfortable asking the Domina any questions about magic beyond the lessons she was being given. She didn’t want to give Domina Skey any reason to think she was seeking more power.
Which she wasn’t. But she did want to understand what had happened to her. She needed someone she could talk to. Someone who had knowledge of magic beyond that of Anglion’s traditions. Someone like Madame de Montesse. She should try to speak with her privately. Soon. If only to poke around the edges of the subject to learn if the Illvyan could be trusted. She seemed not to have told anyone where Sophie and Cameron had gone on the day of the attack, but that didn’t mean she was an ally.
“Madame—” Sophie began to say.
“Lady Sophia.” Another voice calling her. Cameron’s voice. She turned toward the sound, trying to squelch the small light of happiness that sparked in her at the sight of him.
“Lady Sophia,” he said again as he reached them. He nodded quickly to Madame de Montesse. “You need to come with me, milady. The Illusioners have word of your parents.”
CHAPTER TEN
Cameron wished he could shake the odd clear-detached-diamond-sharp edges that the dose of redwort tisane he’d taken gave everything. The commander had assigned him the midnight-to-sunrise shift in Eloisa’s guard and then asked him to come back again for an afternoon duty, given the Red Guard was spread thin. He’d stolen about four hours’ sleep, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Hence the redwort to keep him on his feet.
It kept him awake and alert, but he’d never liked the sensation of it. Or the punishing collapse that came when it wore off. He could push the doses another night or two, but he would pay for it. Besides which, being artificially stimulated and still trying to adjust to the fact that he was going to be married was hardly the state he would have selected for his first meeting with his wife-to-be’s parents.
He’d wanted to cry off, let someone else escort Sophie down to the house in the city where her parents were staying. But Sophie had asked him to come so that he could meet her mother and father. Difficult to come up with an excuse to avoid doing that when they were to be married. And maybe that was just as well. He had no idea if another man could react to Sophie’s power in the way he had—goddess, he hoped not, because that wasn’t a recipe for a good marriage—but best not to take the risk of finding out. Or letting anyone else discover just how much power she had whilst they were trying to keep that silent.
He looked down at Sophie, sitting beside him in the rocking carriage, her face alight as she took in the sights of the city through the window.
If he’d had his own way, they would have walked, but Eloisa had insisted on the carriage and a second Red Guard to accompany them. Apparently, she was taking no risks with her newest royal witch, binding or no binding.
The streets were oddly quiet, suggesting that the citizens of Kingswell shared Eloisa’s apprehension about the likely safety of the capital. Some would have left altogether, he supposed, fleeing in the wake of the attack. Some might not return.
But that was Eloisa’s problem. He frowned to himself, thinking of Elly and her injuries. She’d looked slightly better today when he’d been summoned to her chambers so she could give her orders to send him after Sophie, but goddess, the bandages and bruises marring her face still made him feel ill.
And enraged. Logically, he knew that, even if he’d been there, he couldn’t have prevented her being hurt by fire and falling stones, but he couldn’t help the irrational wish that he could have done just that.