Imogene's mind was still half on Jean-Paul as she walked into Colonel Ferritine's office. Which was why, perhaps, she came to a less than graceful halt when she registered that both Major Fontaine and Captain Brodier were in the room. She gathered her wits long enough to snap a salute. Honore flashed her a quick encouraging smile before her expression turned back to a more professional calm one.
"Don't look so alarmed, Lieutenant," Colonel Ferritine said. He gestured to the plain wooden chair beside Honore. "Take a seat." The colonel had short gray hair and lines in his face that spoke of his years of experience. His bright blue eyes looked friendly rather than annoyed, so Imogene hoped that was a good sign and she wasn't about to be hauled over the coals by all three of her commanding officers. Not that she could think of anything she might have done that would warrant it. Attending a ball wasn't forbidden. Still, she settled herself fast and stayed silent, waiting to find out why she was there.
"I believe you spoke to Captain Brodier about sanctii the other day," Colonel Ferritine said. "Have you thought more on what you discussed?"
"I have," Imogene said, keeping her voice steady. She folded her hands in her lap as her pulse sped up a little. "I know it's not a decision to be taken lightly, but it is something I am interested in pursuing, if it would help my work." There. That sounded like she was being a good little soldier rather than one enticed by the idea of having a sanctii for more selfish reasons.
The three officers exchanged a look. Imogene clasped her hands tighter, unsure what that might mean.
"It is not a choice you can make lightly," the colonel agreed. "But at this moment, there may be a case for making it quickly."
"Sir?" Imogene said, hoping she sounded enthusiastic rather than entirely unsure what the colonel was talking about.
"Our next round of preparatory training for those wishing to attempt a bond starts next week. As you know, we consider and select our candidates with great care. The decisions are made well in advance. But, as it happens, one of our candidates has changed his mind and does not wish to undertake the training."
Imogene racked her brain, trying to think who it might be. The process by which the army chose mages for this was secretive, as was the training that followed. The candidates held things close to their chest until they either succeeded or failed in their attempts. And those who failed sometimes pretended they hadn't even tried. Failure wasn't seen as a black mark on your career—bonding a sanctii was difficult and required a great deal of power—but Imogene imagined it could only feel like a catastrophe to try but fail. There were often whispers of speculation about who might be chosen, but she'd been out of the country for months now. She'd lost track of who could be in the running. But equally, she'd heard nothing of any junior officers being injured or ill. She couldn't imagine what else would make someone give up the chance.
"So, we have a slot to fill, Lieutenant." Colonel Ferritine nodded at her and then at Major Fontaine. "The major tells me Cesarus speaks favorably of you."
He did? That startled her enough that she turned her head to look at Major Fontaine. Who merely smoothed his neatly trimmed red beard and gestured her back to the colonel.
"All other reports are favorable, too. You have been an exemplary young officer since your first mission. And, on short notice, we don't have another candidate more suitable to put forward."
"You want me to bond a sanctii now?" It came out squeakier than she'd intended.
The colonel grinned. "Not right this minute. But soon. I understand, Lieutenant, that this requires some consideration on your part. But we need to know by the end of the week. If you accept this offer, you would commence training next week. If you say no now, it will not reflect badly on you, but I cannot promise you a place in the next round or even tell you when the next training might occur. You know how long the training lasts? And that you are confined to the training barracks while undertaking your studies?"
She nodded. Ten days for the initial training, she knew. Which covered more on sanctii lore and the learning of the very precise details of the bonding itself. After that, individual mages could take longer to study and prepare themselves. Mages outside the army sometimes took months. But she wouldn't have months. A mage who didn't have the courage to make an attempt as soon as possible would be quietly discouraged from trying at all. And that would be a bigger failure than failing to form the bond at first attempt.
A shiver ran down her spine. There was a healthy dose of apprehension now mingled with excitement. This was serious business. A decision that would change her life. Very few mages released a sanctii from its bond once they had one. If she chose to do this, she would have a sanctii watching her, helping her, linked to her until she died. A bond more intimate than marriage in a way. But the fact that there was still excitement mingled with the fear told her that she still wanted to try.
"You need my decision by the end of the week?" she asked, pleased that she sounded calm and direct.
"Yes. You have until then. Sooner would be better. It would give you more time to prepare yourself. I know you are on leave after your mission and were probably minded to pursue some frivolity, but this choice requires care. I trust your judgment, Lieutenant. I know you will take time to consider before you make it. But you should consider quickly. A good officer knows when to be bold, after all."
Chapter 10
"What do you think is keeping him?" Chloe whispered to Imogene as they surveyed the ballroom at the palace.
The assembled nobles were mingling and talking, waiting for the emperor to make his appearance and formally open the ball. But he was late now, late enough that the buzz of conversation had turned from congenial to a more speculative note.
Imogene twitched her skirt out of the path of a young aristo walking past her with no regard for anyone in his immediate surroundings. "Your guess is as good as mine at this point." She tried to sound as though she didn't much care. But as Jean-Paul had not yet appeared either—making her think, given his visit to Major Perrine, that perhaps his role tonight was more than just courtier—she did care.
She'd been looking forward to tonight. Frankly, between the nerves as she tried to determine for sure that she wanted to bond a sanctii and the anticipation of seeing Jean-Paul again and discovering what may happen if they were not interrupted once more, there had been enough adrenaline running through her system for the last three days that she needed to do something to burn it off and clear her head. She was rather hoping the something would be Jean-Paul, but that did require the man to actually appear.
But before she could grow too anxious, the buzz of voices quieted and the ball-goers began to turn, as though pulled by a hidden thread, toward the far end of the ballroom where the emperor held court. Imogene and Chloe, being relatively unimportant, were nowhere close enough to see much more than the backs of other people's heads. Chloe, who was taller, stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck in a way that was not strictly ladylike.
"Can you see anything?" Imogene asked.
"The emperor, I think," Chloe said. "And the empress." She teetered for a moment, and Imogene put a hand on her arm to steady her. "Major Perrine. And...I'm not sure. Is there a delegation expected? There are several people wearing long robes. All embroidered and pleated. I don't recognize the style."
Imogene stiffened. Long pleated and embroidered robes? That sounded painfully familiar. "What colors?" she hissed.
"Shades of green and a very peculiar orange. I'm not sure it's the best combination." Chloe glanced sideways at Imogene with a smirk. "Your mother's clothier would not approve."
Imogene smoothed a hand down the skirt of her own crimson dress, trying to smooth away the nerves suddenly gripping her stomach. Orange and green embroidered robes. Court robes from Andalyssia. Their particular style of intricate geometric embroidery was burned deep in her brain. Beautiful, in its own way, but unfortunately also too wrapped up in the memories of her disastrous first assignment. All those disapproving pale-skinned
faces glaring above the robes as the senior of the king's Ashmeiser—had made it clear that the Illvyan diplomats would be best to return to Lumia. Technically he hadn't had the authority to expel Illvyans, but at that stage even Captain Berain had realized the mission was an unredeemable failure and there had been little point remaining.
"Andalyssians," she said, the words half breath.
Chloe's head snapped back round. "Andalyssians? Wasn't that where—"
"Yes," Imogene said, stomach churning with the sudden need to leave. "I'm not sure I should be here. If the emperor is hosting a delegation from Andalyssia, he must be trying to mend fences. I doubt he wants anyone from that mission present."
She tried to keep a scowl off her face. Goddess curse it. Had Jean-Paul known about this when he'd invited her? And if he had, did that mean he didn't know she was one of the junior officers on that mission? Granted, he was in the cavalry, not the mages, but the army was the army, and the speed at which gossip and bad news traveled was faster than anything other than perhaps a sanctii. She'd suffered through weeks of pitying looks anywhere she'd gone within the barracks before she'd been sent off to the first of her courier jobs to start earning back some trust. She'd gritted her teeth—after all, she had done nothing wrong on the mission—and kept her nose clean and lived it down. Or so she thought. But if any of the Andalyssians recognized her here tonight, goddess only knew how they might take it. "I should go."
"You can't leave now," Chloe hissed back. "That will only draw more attention."
She had a point. No one in the ballroom was moving, all eyes turned attentively toward the emperor. If Imogene tried to retreat now, it would cause a commotion. And possibly draw the focus of one of the Imperial Guard.
"Fine." She gritted her teeth and tried to look as though she was paying attention as the emperor began to speak. His voice, enhanced by magic, carried over the crowd. Imogene only half paid attention, her mind racing, trying to think of the fastest way to get out of the ballroom once the emperor finished his speech. Anxiety twisted with disappointment in her stomach. It seemed she and Jean-Paul would be thwarted again. Maybe that was just as well.
The Andalyssians’ presence was a sharp reminder that she couldn't afford any hint of scandal right now. And no matter how temporary a night in Jean-Paul's bed might seem, it would only take a slip of the tongue on his part or for someone to see them and put two and two together for the rumors to spread.
The emperor's words continued rolling over the crowd. The diplomat in Imogene translated the tone of polite phrases as conciliatory, but also a little impatient. The emperor wanted to get the relationship with Andalyssia back to stable ground, and quickly.
But even the analysis of the meaning beneath the message didn't distract her from her desire to leave. Nor did the emperor do anything that might have eased her concerns by naming the Andalyssians. That much at least would have told her if there was anyone amongst among them who might recognize her. She'd been very junior in the mission, but she'd spent time at the Andalyssian court and in the meetings that went along with any mission.
True, she'd always been seated in the rear of the room, bent over a sheaf of papers, taking notes, or running messages. They'd only been in the country two weeks before they'd been asked to leave. Long enough for her to have grown familiar with all the immediate members of the court they'd had dealings with in their talks, and quite a few more who'd been present at the social gatherings she'd attended.
Most Andalyssians were pale and blonde and green eyed. They had female mages, but the unusual kind of earth magic they practiced seemed to tint their hair more copper than the deep scarlet that streaked through Imogene's natural dark brown. She'd been noticeable at the Andalyssian court even when trying to fade into the background. And surely the Andalyssians would have sent experienced courtiers to Lumia. Exactly the sort most likely to remember her.
By the time the emperor finished and the court broke once more into conversation as the music began, she was desperate to leave. She took Chloe's hand and tugged her toward the nearest door.
"Is this really necessary?" Chloe protested, though she was well schooled enough to do so with a smile pasted on her face.
"I'm sorry," Imogene said. "I know you were looking forward to this." She didn't slow her pace.
"What about your mystery man?" Chloe said. "I thought you wanted to meet up with him?"
Chloe had somehow missed Jean-Paul's dance with Imogene at the first ball, being too caught up with her group of friends, and so had no idea who had secured their invitation for tonight. Imogene hadn't told her anything more than she'd met someone perhaps worthy of a dalliance. It had seemed safer. Chloe would only get overinvested if she realized who Jean-Paul was, and there was nothing to get invested in.
"I think the goddess is sending me a sign that he and I are perhaps not a good idea." Imogene tried to sound less disappointed than she felt. A large part of her body thrummed with annoyance and frustration, even though her brain so far had kept control and remembered the sensible reasons why she needed to leave the palace before she could cause any problems for the emperor.
Chloe made a dissatisfied noise that suggested she thought the goddess was a spoilsport, but she followed Imogene without further protest.
Until they pushed through one of the side doors near the rear of the room, made it about twelve feet down the corridor outside, and nearly barreled into Jean-Paul striding in the other direction.
Chapter 11
"Lieutenant," he said with an unmistakable thrum of pleasure in his voice as they righted themselves and regrouped in such a way that Chloe stood next to Jean-Paul facing Imogene. "We have to stop meeting this way."
Chloe's brows flew upward.
"Major," Imogene replied, avoiding using his name. "We were just leaving."
"So soon?" His expression fell. "But the dancing has only just begun. And you and—Mamsille Matin, is it not—are far too beautiful tonight to go before you grant some of us men the pleasure of your company on the dance floor."
He turned toward Chloe and bowed shallowly. "Mamsille Matin, I will introduce myself, as the lieutenant seems to have neglected to do so. Major Jean-Paul du Laq, at your service."
Chloe's brows flew higher, and she mouthed, "du Laq?" at Imogene before schooling her face back to a polite smile as Jean-Paul straightened. "A pleasure, Major du Laq."
Jean-Paul smiled at her, but then his attention arrowed back to Imogene. "Can I not persuade you to stay, Lieutenant?"
Chloe smirked at Imogene. Cleary her friend had made the connection that Jean-Paul was Imogene's mystery man. And worse, it was obvious that Chloe knew who he was.
Now she would never hear the end of it. Even if they left right now, Chloe wouldn't let Imogene get away with avoiding the subject of why the son of a duq was interested in her. Worse, the uncomfortable truth was that Imogene, faced with Jean-Paul again, didn't want to get away.
But as much as she wanted nothing more than to let Jean-Paul take her hand and lead her where he would because, really, she kept forgetting just how handsome he was, she maintained a semblance of control. "I'm afraid not. Circumstances have altered, it seems."
"Circumstances?" He looked confused. "Do you have a more pressing engagement elsewhere?"
"No, she doesn't," Chloe said cheerfully, grin widening.
"I do," Imogene insisted. "Chloe is just trying to be polite, Major, but we really must go." She narrowed her eyes at Chloe.
Jean-Paul's eyes narrowed, too. "I do not wish to keep you, Lieutenant, but I would appreciate it if you would grant me a minute of your time first. Alone," he added.
"I don't—"
"Think of it less as a request and more as an instruction from a superior officer," he said, voice rumbling through her.
There was no way to refuse that. He outranked her. "Sir," she said stiffly.
"I'll go arrange for our carriage to be summoned," Chloe said, making it clear that she was not going to c
ome to Imogene's rescue. She hurried away down the corridor, leaving Imogene with Jean-Paul.
"Well?" she said. "Do you have any more orders for me, Major?"
He rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic." He jerked his head toward a door a few feet behind her. "We can talk in there."
She should say no and go after Chloe, and then this mad temptation would be done with. But he did outrank her and could cause problems if she ignored him. Of course, if he was the kind of man who would cause her problems over this, then she was well rid of him.
But despite all of that, she wasn't ready to step away from her fascination. So she followed him into the room and let him close the door behind them. It was one of the many rooms used by the court for meetings and business and politicking in the polite-on-the-surface aristo fashion. Furnished with a table just big enough for the four chairs tucked against its edges, plus a small sofa and pair of armchairs closer to the fireplace. Which was lit despite the unlikelihood of anyone seeking to use this room tonight.
She moved toward the flickering light of the flames, sending power into the earth-lights as well. The room brightened.
Good. Better for them not to be alone in the dark just now.
Jean-Paul followed her over to the fire, standing silent beside her.
Imogene resisted the urge to step closer as she took in his scent. "You wanted to talk to me, sir?"
He winced. "I apologize for pulling rank. That was wrong of me. But I didn't want you to leave. Not without knowing why."
She hesitated. He sounded sincere enough, but this felt like more than she had bargained for. Explanations and misunderstandings, and they hadn't yet so much as kissed. For a brief liaison, it was rapidly growing complicated. A wise woman would make an excuse and then hurry to find Chloe as fast as she could. But she was discovering that, when it came to this man, perhaps she wasn't so wise. So perhaps she should just be honest. It was simplest in the end.
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