More than an hour later, they finally left the apartment and began to wander through the palace. Sophie occupied herself idly with trying to see the wards they passed. She fancied that she could see the layers of them now. Faint variations in color and the way they felt in her mind that told her which might be earth magic versus those laid by battle mages or the Illusioners.
“Perhaps we could go back to the Illusioners’ library tomorrow,” she said. “I’d like to keep up my . . . studies.”
Cameron paused. They were walking along one of the portrait halls, filled with paintings of generations of Fairleys and other favored nobles of the court. “That might not be so wise. Not this week. Not whilst people are paying such attention to us.”
He was right. She hadn’t considered that. She was doing nothing wrong, seeking out the library, but it might be wisest to wait until Eloisa and the Domina seemed more certain of her loyalty and had forgiven her for her mishap with Cameron before she sought out the library and the book on bindings again.
The Domina had performed the binding ritual between Sophie and Cameron after the wedding yesterday, but the sigils, instead of vanishing at the completion of the ritual, had shimmered on their bound hands with a golden glow for a second or two. When the glow vanished, the sigils faded but were still visible. Eloisa, standing witness as the strongest royal witch and given the need to keep Sophie’s status secret, had frowned at the Domina.
“What does that signify?”
The Domina had thrown up her hands. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’d say there is a connection of some kind, if not a full binding.” She’d scrubbed their hands clean with the same burning liquid she’d used to clean Sophie’s the week before. “It seems to have taken a little. Maybe she’ll be able to help him if he gets a sniffle.”
Sophie had stayed silent, still too angry at the queen and Cameron at that point to want to add to the conversation. But now she wanted to understand what had happened. Were they bound as an Anglion husband and wife might usually be? Or was there something more because of what they’d done? An “augmentier,” as Madame de Montesse had named it. It was important that they knew exactly what they shared, if only to know how best to hide it if necessary. But Cameron was right. They were under scrutiny this week. Best not to put a foot wrong.
She let Cameron lead her onward through the endless corridors. The day was hot for so late in summer, and the damaged palace wasn’t as cool as she remembered from previous summers.
The wards mending the shattered walls might have been keeping the rain and worse out, but apparently wards weren’t as good at soaking up heat as good Carnarvon granite. The temperature varied markedly, depending on how close they were to one of the damaged sections of the palace, the heat and closeness, making even the pale green, light cotton dress she wore seem too hot.
She remembered another thing the devout had taught her and tried to sink some of the heat down through the stone at her feet. She must have sunk a little too much, because she suddenly felt icy, a shiver running through her.
“Sophie?” Cameron said, stopping their walk.
“It’s nothing. Ghost walking past my grave, perhaps.” It was something her grandmother had used to say.
“Don’t say that.”
“Ah, superstitious northerner.” She smiled at him and started to walk again, the sensation of cold fading as she did. “Ghosts aren’t—” She paused. Stopped what she had been about to say. Northern superstitions ranked ghosts right along with demons and other things associated with the forbidden fourth art. Which was another thing she probably shouldn’t even joke about here in the palace. Even if she hadn’t been out of favor with the queen already, she would rapidly find herself so if she was heard talking about anything connected with Illvya. “Never mind.”
Eventually their meandering path through the palace led them toward the ruined Salt Hall.
“We don’t have to go this way,” Cameron said as they reached the junction of the corridor.
Sophie could see the holes in the outer walls from where they stood. “No. I want to. I haven’t seen it yet. I’ll have to sooner or later.”
“If you wish.” Cameron tucked her hand through his arm, and they set off again.
When they walked into the Salt Hall, the guards on the space where the doors should have been let them past without argument. Sophie blinked a few times, startled by the bright sunlight filling the space. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that it wasn’t just sunlight but the light shining from the wards that made the room so bright.
The wards shifted and shimmered, the layers and levels of color, which she could sense only faintly elsewhere in the palace, as clear as watching rainbow light in a crystal here. Perhaps because they were so freshly laid? She wasn’t sure, but she just stared at them, entranced by the dancing patterns until Cameron nudged her and she looked up to find Lord Sylvain standing before them.
“Barron Scardale, Lady Scardale,” Lord Sylvain said with a broad smile. “Felicitations on your wedding.”
Sophie had dipped into a curtsy automatically, but halfway through rising, she suddenly remembered that Lady Scardale was her. The queen’s gift to Cameron had been a title to go along with Liam’s gift of extra holdings of land. A barron was a more suitable husband for a royal witch than a mere lieutenant. She suspected Liam and Eloisa had colluded in the matter. Liam had held the barronetcy that belonged to the Inglewood title whilst his father had been alive, and now it would be Alec’s until Liam had a son to succeed him.