Taken by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #8)
Jasmine Walt
1
“I can’t believe we have a party scheduled every other day this month,” I groused as our carriage rumbled up the winding hillside road leading to Lady Porgillas’s mansion. “Don’t these people understand we have a state to run?”
Iannis gently dug his thumb into my shoulder, which was knotted with tension. “Such things matter little to our hosts when there is an upcoming wedding,” he said as I moaned in relief. “All of our wealthy constituents are trying to one-up each other with these lavish parties and gifts, and as Lady Porgillas donated quite a substantial one, we cannot slight her by ignoring her invitation.”
“Nobody asked her to get that fountain,” I grumbled, but it was half-hearted. Lady Porgillas had donated a twelve-foot marble fountain sculpture of Magorah—traditionally depicted as a warrior in a wolf pelt—for the newly rebuilt square in Shiftertown. It was a generous gesture, and one I especially could not ignore as a half-shifter myself. The residents of Shiftertown had been thrilled to receive it, and the fact that it had come from a mage went a long way toward improving race relations.
“Why did she have that sculpture created, anyway?” I asked Iannis as the mansion finally came into view. “Does Lady Porgillas have some kind of soft spot for shifters?”
Iannis shrugged. “Not that I have heard. But she knows that you do, and like I said, our wealthier citizens are all trying to one-up each other just now. It was quite a clever gift on her part.”
I nodded as the carriage doors opened and a liveried footman helped us to the ground. The skirts of the steel blue gown I’d chosen for the evening rustled a little as I alighted, and I quickly checked to make sure it hadn’t snagged on anything. The first time I’d attended one of these gatherings, I’d somehow managed to get the end of my skirt jammed in a door closing behind me, and the fabric had ripped before I’d realized what had happened. An easy fix, now that I had Fenris’s vast magical knowledge at my disposal, but there had been quite a few people around to witness the blunder, and the last thing I needed was to walk into this hoity-toity mansion with a rip in my skirt.
The thought of Fenris sent a pang of sadness through me, and I forced myself to push it aside. He was alive, I knew, and there was no point in dwelling on his absence. He would contact us when he was ready to be found again.
If he’s ever ready to be found again.
Lady Porgillas’s mansion was tall and imposing and surrounded by park-like gardens, as favored by wealthy mages. Since it was an hour from the city, she could have as much space as she wanted. I was getting to know this lifestyle quite well, with all these parties I was attending. I supposed I should count myself lucky that we’d rejected a good portion of the invitations—otherwise we’d be attending two to three parties per night, which would have driven me up a wall.
Pushing that unpleasant thought out of my mind, I took an appreciative sniff of the fresh evening air, cleaner than in the city—the linden trees lining the drive were in bloom, almost overpowering in the early summer air. The sun was just setting over the sea, but there wasn’t much time for me to admire our surroundings. Iannis took my arm, and I curled my fingers around his forearm as he led me up the steps and into the mansion. Iannis had our invitation, but the guard at the entrance waved us through without even asking to see it—nobody ever failed to recognize the Chief Mage and his shifter bride, not after our names and faces had been plastered across every newspaper in the Federation. Besides, we were supposed to be the guests of honor tonight.
“Lord Iannis!” Lady Porgillas greeted us with a warm smile as we entered the packed ballroom. She was a slim redhead who wore her three hundred and fifty years lightly. “Welcome to my little party. Everyone is agog to meet you.”
A sea of robes and dresses filled the gigantic space, and as I swept my gaze across the floor, I noted that there were only mages in attendance.
“And the lovely Miss Baine. I am so pleased you could make it.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Iannis said, briefly bending over the lady’s hand and kissing it.
“And for your generous gift,” I added with a smile of my own as I shook our hostess’s hand. “The residents of Shiftertown are very pleased.”
“I’m delighted to hear that,” she said. “I thought a fountain sculpture would be just the thing to liven up that drab little square of theirs.” The way she said it, with just the slightest note of condescension in her voice, told me exactly what she thought of Shiftertown and its denizens, and I blinked.
“Have you actually been there, then?” I asked. I had figured she had chosen a depiction of Magorah simply because everyone knew that he was the shifter god, but perhaps she knew more about shifters than she was letting on.
Lady Porgillas shrugged. “Once, to assist with the relief efforts after the quake. I am so lucky that my mansion out here among the vineyards was properly warded…I hear that things are much improved in Solantha since that dreadful day.”
“Yes,” Iannis cut in smoothly, “and we greatly appreciate all you’ve done for us.” He gave me a subtle warning glance, and I bit back a sigh. I knew I shouldn’t feel so defensive about Shiftertown, especially since she had given such a great gift. I just wished it had been out of true generosity rather than a desire to impress her fellow mages, and particularly Iannis.
Still, it was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Eventually, Iannis and I moved on to mingle with the rest of the crowd. All of the mages we talked to were almost irritatingly polite to our faces. However, a few hung back, eyeing me with barely concealed disdain, and I left a trail of whispers in my wake that I did my best to tune out. I was well aware that not everyone approved of my match with Iannis, but they could stick their jealousy and condemnation up their asses. The only thing that mattered was our love and commitment for each other, and that was as strong as it had ever been.
Still, when I stopped by the refreshment table to fill a plate with crab cakes, tiny salmon rolls, and goose liver canapés, I couldn’t help but overhear a gaggle of women nearby.
“Look at her. That’s the third plate she’s taken tonight. How is she not bursting out of the seams of her dress?”
“I hear shifters have very high metabolisms and can eat whatever they want.” The other mage tittered. “Even so, that dress is a pretty tight fit.”
“Well, it’s understandable that she would not want to wear apprentice robes to an affair like this and remind everyone of her lowly status. One does wonder when the Chief Mage and she find time to practice?”