“It is wrong,” Cameron said. He hesitated but then sat beside the old man. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“True. So many dead,” Sylvain said. “And lucky to find anything left of most of them. The king’s personal wards spared him a little. Enough that there were bones left to bury when Eloisa decides it’s time. A few others who had wards. Like your father.” He reached out and patted Cameron’s knee. “Bad business. I’ve buried a daughter and two wives. No pain like losing family.”
“Two wives, Your Grace?” Cameron hadn’t known that Lord Sylvain had been married twice. And quite frankly, he’d rather hear about Lord Sylvain’s losses than think about his own.
“Yes. Two. My first wife, Louisa, died young. Too young. Before you were even a twinkle in your father’s eye. Before he was old enough to have a twinkle, come to think of it. She was a pretty thing. A witch. Red hair and big brown eyes.”
“What happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking?” Cameron asked. He watched the Illusioners brushing ash and soot from the wall, but they didn’t seem excited about what they were doing, so he presumed he didn’t need to be, either.
“Came off her horse,” Lord Sylvain said. “Never knew how it happened. She rode like the wind, and horses loved her. Never saw a horse misbehave when she was on its back. She was strong, that one. Others wanted her, but Stefan’s father decided she should go to me. Always wondered if someone in the court had decided that if he couldn’t have her, then I wouldn’t either. Or if she was simply too strong. A risk.”
“Isn’t a strong witch a good thing?” Cameron said, his attention now firmly back on the old man. “We need royal witches with strength.”
“So they say. Yet we tie them up to temple and man at the first sign of power. Stefan’s father had just put down a rebellion of some of the northern counties, and the court was full of suspicion. Not a good time to stand out, to be a potential threat to the Crown.” Lord Sylvain sighed again, tapping his fingers on the handle of his stick, his hand looking dark against the worn mother-of-pearl that covered the handle. “My second wife, Gwynne, she was a good lass, too. But I never felt about her the way I felt about Louisa.” He turned dark eyes in Cameron’s direction. “I guess they’ll all be sniffing around the Kendall chit now. She came into her power when she was with you, didn’t she?”
Cameron nodded, schooling his face to blankness. If Lord Sylvain had been married to a witch—a strong witch—then no doubt he understood perfectly the temptation they represented. “Yes, sir.”
“Thought so. Then I’ll tell you this, lad. If you came to know her during that time, if you care for her at all, then you keep an eye on her until she’s safely married. I’d say now isn’t a good time to be a threat in the court, either. I may be old, but I can count. The lass has moved a fair way up the line of succession with what happened to Farkeep and his family. If her power is anything worth talking about, if it’s enough to attract interest, then she’s standing in the open with very little cover. Not a safe place to be in times like these.”
Cameron felt a chill start in his neck and run down his spine. Would someone really try to hurt a royal witch? Stupid question. Someone had just tried to take out the entire royal family. Though Sylvain was talking about an attack on Sophie—or a plot that sought to use her—from within the court rather than something mounted by external forces.
Lord Sylvain nodded. “Aye. Not a pleasant thought. But it seems it’s not a pleasant world we’re living in right now. So keep an eye out for her. I couldn’t save Louisa. The Kendall chit has something of the look of her. Come to think of it, I think her grandmother and Louisa were cousins, maybe.” He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. But remember what I said.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After the temple services, Sophie took her father to meet with the queen-to-be. Then she took advantage of the spare minutes to drag her mother out to the gardens behind the temple to ask her to invite Chloe de Montesse to visit.
“Madame de Montesse,” Emma Kendall said, looking puzzled. “The one who runs that . . . store in Portholme.”
“Yes,” Sophie said.
“She’s Illvyan.”
“Yes. I know,” Sophie agreed. “But she was very kind to Cam—Lieutenant Mackenzie and me when the attack occurred. She helped us. I would like to thank her.”
“You can’t send a note?”
“That hardly seems sufficient. And this isn’t the best time to invite an Illvyan to the palace.”
“Yet it makes sense to invite her to our house? Really, Sophie, are you sure you didn’t suffer a blow to the head when you were off in the wilderness with your lieutenant?”
“I’m sure. I just want to thank her. You can ask her to bring some supplies for you. No one will question that. I’m sure she knows how to be discreet.” Sophie’s hand stole to the pearl at her throat as she silently willed her mother to agree.
“If she was discreet, she’d dye that hair of hers a decent color,” her mother said.
“She can’t help being born Illvyan,” Sophie said. “Obviously she didn’t like it very much, or she wouldn’t have risked her life to come here.”
“She may have liked it perfectly well,” her mother pointed out. “She may have been forced to flee by something else.”
“Well, I know a little about that now,” Sophie said. “About being scared and not knowing who your friends are. I would like to thank her. Please, Mother. It wouldn’t take long. And I don’t feel right leaving it until later. You always tell me not to put things off.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “I hate it when you children quote me to me,” she said, eyes twinkling.