“Then what do you want us to do?” Lord Airlight asked. After Lord Sylvain, he was the oldest man in the room, though he was only five and fifty or so, rather than into his seventies as Sylvain was. He was the senior surviving member of the council, having served King Stefan as councilor for more than a decade.
Eloisa pursed her lips. “We need to show them we are not intimidated by anything that has occurred. They are trying to scare us, trying to keep us off-balance. What we need is a show of strength. They need to see that life in Anglion continues as ever it did.”
Lord Sylvain nodded agreement. Cameron glanced at the Domina. It was just as well for the council members that it wasn’t possible for an earth witch to set a man alight. Otherwise, judging by the Domina’s furious expression, the council might have been several members short.
“What did you have in mind?” Liam asked.
His brother, at least, was doing far better than Lord Farkeep. But then, Liam had been raised to take his place as erl one day. Cameron had just never quite realized how good his brother would be at it. He always thought Liam had chafed under their father’s rule as much as he had done. But maybe he had only ever been biding his time until it was his turn.
“I think we should have a birthday party. For our new royal witch,” Eloisa said.
“Excuse me?” Sophie said at the same time as the Domina. It was the first time Sophie had said anything when not directly asked since the meeting had begun, but she flinched back in her chair when she heard the Domina’s voice with hers.
“It’s perfect,” Eloisa said. “We need normality. Reassurance for the populace. And a reminder that Anglion is strong in its own magic. Lady Scardale never got her Ais-Seann celebration. We should have one now. It’s a little unorthodox, but it will work.” She nodded decisively. “Yes. A ball for our newest witch. The Domina can teach Sophie something splashy to do at the party, and that will send the right message to everyone.”
Sophie had gone completely still beside him. Cameron curled his hand into a fist at his side so he wouldn’t reach for her.
Commander Peters had listened quietly to the queen, but now he nodded. “I think you are right, Your Majesty. It is just the sort of thing the city needs. It will calm everyone and distract attention from the investigation. Give whoever might be watching something to focus on whilst Master Egan and his men keep working quietly to find us more information.”
“Thank you, Commander,” the queen said. “Then that’s settled. A party for our dear Lady Scardale. Soon I think. Sixth day, perhaps?”
“Now, then, my dear,” Lord Sylvain said as he settled himself back into a comfortably stuffed armchair in his front parlor, which was messy and masculine and also shimmering with more wards than Sophie had seen on any personal room in the palace. Including the queen’s. “Why don’t you take a pastry to go with that tea? I sent my man out specially to fetch them. He’ll be heartbroken if we don’t eat them.”
Sophie smiled obediently and took a tiny fruit-laden tart. She wasn’t terribly hungry; her appetite had fled the previous afternoon when she had accidentally discovered the stone with the scriptii. Cameron had tried to get her to eat when they’d finally been allowed to go back to their apartment after the council meeting. She’d managed a bite or two of bread and cheese to please him. Then he’d changed tactics and poured her a glass of Iska—which she wasn’t sure she was ever going to grow to love—made her drink it, and took her to bed.
The combination of sex and alcohol had let her sleep at least, but the nerves fluttering in her stomach still left her with no desire for food.
She sipped the tea, which was strong and hot and sweet. That much she could stomach.
“You have to eat, Lady Scardale,” Lord Sylvain said. “Royal witches use a lot of energy in what they do.”
“I haven’t done any magic today.”
“Maybe not, but if the Domina is going to teach you some party piece for your birthday extravaganza, then you’ll need your strength. My first wife was a royal witch. I know what I’m talking about.”
“She was?” Sophie said, diverted from her nerves about the party. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of attention all over again.
“Yes. Second, too, for that matter, but she was never strong, not like my Louisa.”
“I never knew that,” Sophie said. Which was interesting. She had been drilled in the lineage of every person in the court. She knew Lord Sylvain had been married twice, that his first wife had died young, killed in a riding accident, but she couldn’t remember any mention of the fact that she’d been a witch. Why had that been left out of the court records?
“Well, she’s ancient history now,” Lord Sylvain said.
Sophie saw an echo of sadness in his face. She didn’t think the memory of his wife was ancient history to him. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Lord Sylvain waved a hand at her. “Eat your tart, child. It was a long time ago.”
Sophie picked up the tart and glanced at Cameron. They’d agreed to let Lord Sylvain tell them whatever it was he wanted to tell them in his own time, but she was starting to think that perhaps they needed to hurry him along. She was supposed to go to the temple later to learn whatever it was the Domina came up with for her to do at her Ais-Seann ball.
Cameron put down his empty cup. “My lord, you said you wanted to talk to us.”
“Mostly to your wife,” Sylvain said. “Still, what I have to say concerns her well-being, which I assume is of interest to you, as well.” He focused on Sophie. “So, milady, how about you tell me exactly what is going on with your powers.”
Sophie almost dropped her teacup. “Your Grace?”
“There’s something afoot,” Lord Sylvain said. “You noticed that stone when none of the Illusioners did. Never mind that nonsense Eloisa was spouting about the goddess. And Domina Skey keeps watching you as though you might explode. Not to mention that Eloisa used to treat you like a favorite pet, and now she’s giving you the cold shoulder. Now, part of that might be due to young Mackenzie here—”