“Yes, sir,” Cameron replied. Sophie’s father was a marque, the lowest of the three noble ranks, if he was remembering correctly, which made him just Sir Kendall, not a lord like an erl or a barron. “I’m Cameron, the youngest.”
Sir Kendall’s expression turned sober. “I saw the casualty list. I’m very sorry for your loss, Lieutenant. Your father was a good man. A great loss to the court.”
“Thank you, sir.” There wasn’t much else to be said.
“This is my wife, Emma,” Sir Kendall continued, reaching out a hand to draw his wife away from Sophie. Cameron bowed politely.
“It was good of you to escort Sophie,” Lady Kendall said with a brilliant smile. She shared the same coloring as her daughter and husband, though her hair shone with a reddish tint in the sunlight that made him think she must have some small earth magic. Not enough for the true red of a strong earth witch but enough to be noted.
“The queen-to-be thought it best,” Cameron said. “The streets are still—nervous.”
“We know,” Sir Kendall said dryly. “Else we would have been here the day of the attack. It’s taken until now for us to be allowed to come any closer to the city.” He smiled at his daughter. “Which I assume is your doing, my dear. The Illusioners who found us mentioned that your power had manifested. That is a happy thing in the midst of all this sadness.” He bent and kissed Sophie’s cheek, and she looked so purely delighted for a moment that Cameron’s heart turned over. She hadn’t looked like that since the moment they’d—well, perhaps better not to think of such things in front of her parents.
He looked away and saw Lady Kendall watching him with a curious expression.
“Perhaps it would be better if we went inside,” she said. “We have tea and managed to procure a cake. It’s not exactly the birthday celebration we were planning, but it will have to do until things return to normal.”
She proceeded to move them into the house with the efficiency of one of Alec’s best herders, and Cameron founded himself seated in a small parlor, tastefully decorated in pale green and blue, seated on a sofa opposite Sophie and her mother. Tea appeared, and he drank gratefully, hoping it might offer an antidote to some of the redwort’s effects.
Sophie cut the cake, and he ate, wondering if she felt as uncomfortable as he did, knowing what they had to tell her parents. He took a second slice, redwort making him unusually hungry, as always, but refused a third politely.
Sir Kendall—Cameron’s brain offered up Grant as his first name, and he hoped that was correct—leaned forward a little in his chair.
“Now that we’ve eaten, perhaps we can talk a little,” he said. “The way the two of you are avoiding looking at each other, am I to assume there is something you haven’t yet told us?”
He looked from Cameron to his daughter. Sophie put down her teacup, the china rattling slightly in her grip. “Lieutenant Mackenzie isn’t just my escort,” she said in a rush. “The queen-to-be has decided that we are to marry.”
Blunt dark brows flew upward on her father’s face. “So soon?” He looked at Cameron. “A royal witch would normally have her celebrations before any betrothal.”
Cameron didn’t try to avoid the slightly accusing gaze. “It’s not exactly normal circumstances, sir. The queen-to-be thinks it best if Sophie is married quickly. Partly to show that things are business as usual, I think.”
“Hmmmph. Well, she could at least have waited to speak to me. The marriage of royal witches is the Crown’s prerogative, but it is a courtesy to involve the parents. It seems I need to go to court and speak to young Eloisa.”
“The queen-to-be was injured in the attack, Father,” Sophie said quickly. “She’s not holding audiences right now. She needs to rest and recover.”
“Be that as it may,” Sir Kendall said firmly. “If she’s healthy enough to decide on your husband, she’s healthy enough to tell me so face-to-face.”
Sophie looked somewhat mortified. “I am happy to marry Lieutenant Mackenzie,” she said. “You don’t need to worry.”
“And you?” Sir Kendall asked, directing his gaze back to Cameron. “Are you happy with the match, Lieutenant? And your brother, the erl?”
“I am more than happy. As any man would be who was granted your daughter’s hand,” Cameron said, smiling quickly at Sophie. “Liam will not object to the match. He is a servant of the court, as am I. Not that his objection would change the queen-to-be’s mind. You must know that about her.”
“She always was headstrong,” Sir Kendall agreed. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to observe protocol. Perhaps I’ll return to court with you now.” He made as if to rise from his seat, and Sophie made a small noise of protest in her throat.
“It is nearly the end of the day,” Cameron said. “The queen-to-be will be tired. I am on shift tonight—I am one of her personal guard—” He saw Sir Kendall’s brows lift again. “I’m sure I can arrange an audience for tomorrow.” He wasn’t sure, but he saw Sophie’s expression relax and decided that providing a delay was the right decision. Give Sir Kendall the night to think about things and calm down a little before he spoke to Eloisa. A good night’s sleep might reconcile him to the situation.
“That sounds like a perfect solution,” Lady Kendall said before her husband could speak again. “Lieutenant Mackenzie can send word when things are arranged, and we can proceed from there.” She looked at Sophie. “The queen-to-be hasn’t decided on a date for the wedding, has she?”
Sophie shook her head. “No. There are other things that must happen first. King Stefan’s funeral. And the coronation.”