by M. J. Scott
"Who told you where we were?" Cameron asked Liam softly.
"That would be me," said the Inglewood guard closest to Sophie. The one who sounded distinctly like—
"Chl—"
"Don't give me away." The guard's face flickered briefly, revealing Chloe's face for a second before the mask of a young man fell back into place.
Sophie nearly stumbled. "How?"
"I know something of the Arts of Air. When I saw Ikarus earlier I knew something must be happening. I decided not to wait around any longer. I thought perhaps you might try to speak to the queen, and I didn't think I could make it quite that far through the palace. I decided to go to the erl instead. Fortunately, he believed me."
"You know Ikarus?" Sophie repeated, still startled. Cameron was staring at his brother, brows high.
"Yes. Imogene bonded with him before I left Illvya. Granted, I wasn't expecting to see him appear in the palace here, but sanctii are quite distinctive. He blinked in and blinked out before I could ask him anything. Annoying habit that. Now, be quiet, you're supposed to be a prisoner."
"So are you," Sophie whispered back. "What about the others? My parents?" There was still nothing from Imogene.
"I figured if Ikarus was there, then Imogene wasn't far way. And I didn't imagine Jean-Paul would let his wife jaunt over the ocean to Anglion without accompanying her. No doubt bringing more Imperial soldiers. With more sanctii. Your parents will be safe." Chloe tilted her head. "How did you get sanctii to Anglion?"
"Long story," Sophie said. The Red Guard were moving fast, and they were nearly at the audience hall. "But I think we're out of time."
Chapter 23
The court assembled rapidly. Sophie, Cameron, and Liam stood near the Salt Throne, surrounded by Inglewood men and Red Guards, watching the rows of seats in the audience hall fill swiftly and mostly silently.
It was a shock to see so many familiar faces after being surrounded by strangers in Illvya. A shock too, to realize again that there were missing faces in the crowd, the victims of the attack on the palace leaving holes that ached.
When the court was settled, the doors swung open again and Domina Skey stalked down the aisle, moving like a storm, her robes swirling around her. Three dominas trailed in her wake, carrying braziers that wafted the pungent scent of salt grass and temple oils. Reinforcing her power, Sophie thought. And also, perhaps, that the domina was rattled to be indulging in theatrics. Which could be a hopeful sign.
The domina took her time to lower herself into her usual seat in the front row before she fixed her gaze on Sophie.
Sophie ignored her and turned her attention back to the doors. Eloisa's ladies—her former friends—began to file down the aisle. They were all correctly dressed, but Sophie could see the signs of a rushed job in the odd wrinkled skirt or slightly crooked hairpin. They were all draped in as many pearls as women could possibly be. The queen herself followed behind them, her triple strand of pearls banding her throat and matching gems bobbing from her ears and circling each wrist.
The court rose and sank into bows and curtsys, staying down until Eloisa reached her throne, and sat, smoothing her golden skirts into place. The same color she'd worn for her coronation.
No accident, that choice.
Eloisa was reminding all of them who was in charge. Sophie hoped the queen was right in that assumption. The nobles, at least, obeyed when she gestured for them to seat themselves.
The queen nodded at Domina Skey who rose and stalked to stand in front of the throne. She shot Sophie one last furious glare, then began to speak.
"Your Majesty, charges of treason are brought against Cameron Mackenzie, Lord Scardale and Sophia Mackenzie, Lady Scardale." The domina began to list their supposed offences.
When she reached bearing arms in the presence of the queen, Cameron said mildly, "I am a lieutenant of the Red Guard, you know. We have permission."
"Not helping," Sophie said quietly as the domina glared again but didn't cease her litany.
"Can't exactly make things worse, now, can I?" He sounded far more confident than Sophie felt.
The domina eventually stopped speaking—it was impressive, really, the list of things they had supposedly done both here and in Illvya—and the queen rose from the Salt Throne.
"Your Majesty," Cameron said before Eloisa could open her mouth. "I believe my wife and I are entitled to a right of reply. Perhaps this will go faster if you let us say our piece first."
Eloisa raised an eyebrow, and, for a moment, Sophie thought she was going to refuse. But she saw no pulse of light between the queen and the domina, and Eloisa said, "So be it, Lord Scardale."
Cameron bowed. "I yield my right to my wife, Sophia Mackenzie, Lady Scardale."
He what? Sophie froze. What was he doing? She looked at Cameron, but he only nodded encouragingly. Panic twisted her gut, but if he wasn't going to plead their case, then someone had to. Apparently that someone was her. She stepped forward, and the soldiers moved apart. Not letting her past their circle but not blocking the queen's view of her either. She curtsied to Eloisa, then rose again, resisting the urge to twine her hands into her skirts.
"Your Majesty. Neither of us are traitors. We have been loyal subjects of yours for many years and will continue to be. The only ones who have been attacked in this court are my husband and I. Assassins have been sent against us. More than once. I believe the people responsible for those attacks are in this room now. But the threat to our lives is less important to me at this moment." She paused. Let her words sink into the silence as she had seen King Stefan and Eloisa and Aristides do. Then took a breath and began again. "Actually, no. I spoke in error. I said the only ones who have been attacked are myself and my husband. That was wrong. This entire court was attacked. Many died. You almost died, Your Majesty. The goddess kept you safe. But I am very much afraid that you are still under siege, my queen." She turned to face the court rather than the queen. "I accuse Domina Skey of unlawfully seeking to control the crown. Of binding the queen without her knowledge and consent and of seeking to silence us to hide her crimes. In short, the only one guilty of treason in this room is the domina herself."
"You dare," Domina Skey snarled.
"I do," Sophie said icily.
"Be quiet," Eloisa said. "I—" She paused, and Sophie saw the magic flare between Eloisa and the domina. Eloisa's expression went dazed. "I—"
Goddess. If only the Anglions could see magical connection as Illvyans did. But of course, if they could, then their society would be very different. And the domina would never have been able to do what she had done. Nor would Sophie need to do what she was about to.
[Ikarus says people safe.] Elarus's voice boomed suddenly in her head.
Relief flooded through Sophie. All right. Her family was safe. Whatever happened next, she had achieved that much. And she was free to do what was needed.
[Elarus. Break that bond between the queen and the domina!] Sophie pushed forward without thinking, breaking ranks so she stood alone in front of the court. She saw a bright flare of magic hit the bond and snap it. The queen and the domina both staggered backward, Eloisa's hands going to her head.
The court erupted in shouts of alarm.
Domina Skey recovered first. "They are using magic on the queen," she screamed and pulled a pistol, aiming it Sophie. "Traitor!"
"No!" Eloisa screamed and threw herself forward as the domina pulled the trigger.
"Elarus!" Sophie screamed herself, not knowing exactly what she wanted the sanctii to do. But it was too late. The bullet hit Eloisa and the queen crumpled to the floor as Elarus appeared, snatched the gun from the domina's hand and closed her other hand around the woman's throat.
The domina had shot the queen. She'd shot Eloisa. Sophie stared down at Eloisa, unable to make herself respond.
Cameron's hand came hard around her arm. "Move," he said, pushing her forward. "She needs help."
Sophie stumbled toward the queen. No one else had mo
ved to help, the Anglions frozen in place by the sight of Elarus. "Chloe," Sophie called. "Help me."
[Don't kill her,] she ordered Elarus as Domina Skey made choking sounds. Sophie ignored her, turning her attention to the queen.
Eloisa's chest was moving. "Goddess, help me," Sophie muttered. She rolled the queen onto her back and pressed her hands against the fast-spreading blossom of red on the gold silk of Eloisa's dress, just below her shoulder. "Eloisa, can you hear me? Healers are coming." She looked around wildly. "Fetch healers."
"Most of the healers are dominas," Chloe said quietly beside her. "You can't trust them. You have to do this, Sophie. If it can be done."
Sophie stared at the blood bubbling beneath her hands. She'd healed Eloisa once, but it had been the domina directing her power, and she didn't know how to do it herself.
"S-Sophie." Eloisa's voice was soft, but it carried through the room, which had fallen silent as a grave.
Sophie reached for the ley line desperately, gathering power to send into the queen. "Eloisa, hold on. You'll be all right."
One corner of the queen's mouth quirked up. "Too young," she said, her voice rasping. "But I believe you."
Sophie blinked, trying to see. When had she started crying? It didn't matter. She ignored the tears pouring down her face as she tried to pour power into Eloisa. The magic swirling around her, but Sophie didn't know how to direct it safely. None of her training had dealt with wounds this severe. Goddess be damned. What was the use of all this power if she couldn't do this?
[Elarus, I need help.] She craned her neck, to look at the sanctii, who didn't move.
[Broken.] Elarus's voice sounded in her head, and it sounded infinitely mournful. [Dying.]
[No!] Sophie turned back, flung a hand out to Chloe. "Chloe, I need more—"
Chloe put her hand on top of Sophie's, and Sophie pulled from her and from Cameron and the ley line and somehow knew that it wouldn't be enough, that she didn't know enough. She reached again, felt another bright spark somewhere distant. Tok. She pulled on him too, felt the light of him flutter in response and knew that he would send everything to her if she let him. And that it still wouldn't be enough. She would kill him if she took too much. She pulled back, reached for Elarus instead as she tried to will the blood to slow and the wound to close. She thought it might be working, but the blood still flowed fast, her hands shining red with it.
Eloisa's hand lifted slowly. Oh-so-slowly. Came to rest on Sophie's cheek. "I believe you," she said again. "All as it should be." And then her hand fell and the soft thump it made sliding back down onto the queen's body broke Sophie's heart as she watched the life vanish from Eloisa's eyes.
For long minutes, there was no sound, but Sophie's own sobs and the distant noises she recognized as other women crying. She waited for someone to seize her, to carry her away, to kill her. The queen was dead. Dead because of her. Dead because she had this stupid useless magic that only seemed to cause hurt.
"Sophie." Cameron's voice sounded as distant as the sobbing. "Sophie, love. Let go of her now."
She hadn't even realized she was clutching Eloisa's hand. She watched as Cameron eased her fingers free. As he put his clean hand around her blood-stained one and helped her to her feet. The pain bouncing through her filled the world, turning it sharp edged and distant. Her eyes fell on Domina Skey, who was standing, perfectly still now, Elarus's hand around her throat holding her in place. And the pain burned away to rage.
"You—" Sophie lunged toward the domina.
"Sophie," Cameron caught her arm. "No. She has to face trial. She killed the queen. Everyone saw that. She's done, love. If you kill her now, it won't help."
She shook him off. Took another step forward.
The silence in the hall was broken by the doors flying open. A Red Guard private bolted through. "Ships!" He bellowed. "Illvyan ships on the horizon. Invaders!"
Goddess. Sophie's hand went to the scriptii in her pouch, and she called Imogene's name. And, as the Red Guard began to turn to her and Cameron, hands going to pistols and swords, all the sanctii who had come with them to Anglion suddenly appeared, surrounding Sophie and Cameron and Chloe and Eloisa's body, a living wall between them and the rest of the court.
A wall of sanctii was apparently enough to stop the court from descending into violence. In fact, it seemed to freeze it solid. For a time, the silence was deafening. So deafening, Sophie wasn't entirely sure she could even hear her own breathing.
Then Liam's voice, pitched to carry, broke the silence. "Cameron, perhaps things would be somewhat less...complicated if you could explain your companions."
Cameron cleared his throat, held up his hands. "They are familiaris sanctii. They are here to protect my wife and me. They will not hurt anyone here unless given cause."
He managed to lay a world of meaning in the word "cause." Perhaps he had missed his calling in diplomacy.
"And the ships?" Liam asked carefully.
"Also here for us. It is not an invasion."
Sophie hoped devoutly that was true. She had no idea what Aristides would do when he learned Eloisa was dead.
"All right," Liam said. "If the Red Guard stand down, perhaps some of your companions could do likewise, and we can discuss what happens next."
Cameron raised a brow at Sophie. She nodded. She had no idea what should happen next, but perhaps they could make it through this without further bloodshed if she and Cameron could talk fast enough.
"Agreed," Cameron called.
[Elarus, can you ask the others to move to stand behind me, please?]
[Not safe,] Elarus objected.
[Sanctii are faster than men. They can't get to me before you. The Anglions are scared of you. This will make things easier. Please.] She stared at Elarus.
Who folded her arms. [Not like.]
"Please." Sophie didn't realize she'd spoken out loud at first. But Elarus nodded, and the sanctii began to move. Which was better than them all blinking out and back again in a new position, she supposed.
With the sanctii out of the way, one of the first things Sophie saw was the grief-stricken face of Princess Margaretta.
"We should let the princess and the ladies attend to the queen," Sophie said, her own throat tightening.
"One thing before that," Cameron said. "Salt forgive me." He squared his shoulders. "Lord Airlight, will you step forward?"
The erl glanced at the sanctii, then took two quite small steps away from the line of other senior nobles at the front of the court.
"A point of order, my lord, that might make the rest of this discussion go faster. Could you remind the court of the line of succession for the throne?"
The erl glared. Behind him, Lord Sylvain cleared his throat. "My memory is perfectly good still if yours is failing, Jonah."
The erl transferred his glare to Lord Sylvain before turning back to Sophie. "The current line of succession by right of birth is as follows. Crown Princess, Margaretta Fairley. Lady Sophia Mackenzie. Lady Penelope Fairlight. And I believe, next would be the young lord of Farcairn."
"Thank you, milord," Cameron said. He turned his gaze to the Crown Princess and bowed. "Your Royal Highness, I am so very sorry for your loss. Please believe me that if I could do anything to change what happened here today, I would. As would my wife. Your sister was dear to both of us, and we will always mourn her. But I must ask a question of you, and you must answer here before you can be alone in your grief."
Sophie opened her mouth to tell him to stop, to leave Margaretta alone. A sudden rustling sound like winds through a distant tree filled her ears for a moment and she paused, knowing suddenly that she had to let this happen.
Margaretta's eyes were the same shape as Eloisa's but a far paler green. Though the color seemed brighter now, seen through the tears shining in her eyes. "Ask your question, Lord Scardale."
Cameron bowed, his face grave when he straightened again. "Your Royal Highness, do you believe you meet the criteria to wear
the crown?"
Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
Margaretta stared down at her sister's body for a long time, before she lifted her gaze again. "No, Lord Scardale, I do not." Her voice was calm. "My magic is slight, and the healers have told me I cannot bear a child. My family has kept this secret, allowed me my privacy, because we believed there was more than enough time for Eloisa to bear heirs. But now we are out of time, and my family has given enough to this court." She turned to face the court. "I am not the heir to the throne of Anglion. The crown, by blood, belongs to Lady Sophia Mackenzie."
Sophie closed her eyes even, as she heard a sputtered gurgle of protest from the domina.
"She killed the queen!"
Sophie's eyes flew open again. She hadn't seen who had spoken.
"No. Domina Skey killed the queen," Cameron said fiercely. "For that, I believe her life will be forfeit. After she has provided us with the details of her conspiracy and treason. My wife is guilty of nothing but standing in the domina's path because of her birthright and therefore being another victim to her attempts to manipulate the court."
"She has a demon! The goddess will not accept her." A different voice.
Sophie shook her head. "The goddess has not abandoned me nor I her." She contemplated whether a display of her power would help or hinder her argument. "But I understand your concerns. But the temple here in Anglion has not been telling us the truth. They have lied to us. Kept us ignorant. The sanctii are not demons, and the Illvyans are not monsters intent on slaughter and domination. Or invasion. So, I suggest we wait for the Illvyans to arrive, and then we can discuss the way forward." She looked at Margaretta again. "Your Royal Highness, would you like to take your sister now?"
Perhaps it was unfortunate that, when Aristides finally arrived at the palace and walked into the audience hall, Sophie's black dress matched all too well with the gleaming black uniforms of the Imperial mages and guards surrounding him. But it had been the dress that Lady Beata had fetched for her, when she had asked to be allowed to change out of the one stained with Eloisa's blood. It was even her own dress, one of the mourning gowns she'd worn after the attack on the court. One that she'd left behind when she and Cameron had fled to Illvya what seemed like close to a century ago.