There. The younger girl’s face eased, and her shoulders settled with visible relief as the uncertainty fell away from her. Nodding back to Amy, Cassandra lifted her arms with all the unshakeable authority of her mother stepping forward to address the assembled Boudiccate of Angland.
Amy held her calm smile with every ounce of strength left in her. This is really happening.
Miranda’s hand tightened convulsively around her arm. Only Jonathan’s hand, warm and steady on Amy’s lower back, held her upright in the whirling terror of the moment, like a promise of his own unshakeable certainty.
That was what he did, wasn’t it? He kept every woman in his family steady with a deep well of strength that had absolutely nothing to do with either magic or status—and no other touch in Amy’s life had ever felt even half so right.
Amy had always known she would do anything to protect her family whenever and wherever she found them. But she’d never imagined just how much they would do for her.
Now Cassandra opened her mouth, her gaze still fixed on Amy’s face as if it were a touchstone, and spoke a stream of bright syllables that filled the air with sparking, dancing impossibility. Under Amy’s wide, eager gaze, a cloud of stars formed around Cassandra, brighter than any fey-light she’d ever seen.
Goosebumps skated across Amy’s skin as those stars massed together and flew to the center of the ballroom...directly above Boudicca’s ferocious grin of victory. It was an unmistakable sign, and from Miranda’s sudden indrawn breath beside her—and the grim tightening of Mr. Westgate’s mouth, when she glanced in his direction—Amy wasn’t the only one to have witnessed it.
Another kind of nation-shaking history was being made before their eyes tonight.
Cassandra called out one final word—and as Amy sucked in a breath of awe, the gathered stars exploded. Points of light shot outward toward the broken glass and crumbling walls of the underwater ballroom.
Grunts and gasps broke out from the gathered mages as the water flung itself outward, too, apparently wrenching itself from their combined grips. Several of them stumbled in the aftershock, and a few fell to their knees—but Amy had scant attention to spare for any of them as she watched the rounded ceiling reform itself before her eyes, higher and smoother than ever before. Glass panels built themselves out of magic stars.
When she turned, she found stars on Miranda Harwood’s cheeks, too—the first tears she’d ever seen from her mentor.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Amy breathed. “She is amazing.”
“She’s lost,” Miranda whispered. “I’ll never get her back. Not now. She...” Breaking off, she gritted her jaw tight.
But she never looked away as the ballroom was rebuilt, even as the tears streamed silently down her face. Amy silently closed her fingers around Miranda’s, holding on with all of her love as the world shifted around them.
“See, it’s even better than it was before.” Jonathan’s warm breath rustled against Amy’s hair as he spoke. “Just look what she’s added over there, Mother.”
Miranda blinked, peered—and let out a choked laugh. “That little minx! If your father could only see this...”
Amy couldn’t help the gurgle of laughter that escaped her own lips as she followed Jonathan’s gesture toward the line of familiar portraits from Anglish history. Now, a portrait of the late Mr. Harwood—a perfect copy of the one that hung in Miranda’s study—rose above all the rest, beaming confidently down at the company in the ballroom he’d created. Cassandra herself was painted just beneath him: his magical heir, in every way.
How long had the girl worked before tonight to develop such detailed amendments to this spell? Amy couldn’t even hazard a guess. But one conclusion was inescapable.
“You see, Miranda?” she said, squeezing her mentor’s hand. “She has learned something from you after all. She knows exactly how to make a political statement!”
“Pahh.” With a sniff, Miranda dashed the final tears from her face. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin.
All around them, the most powerful mages of the realm were racing around the rebuilt ballroom like rowdy, untrained children, calling back and forth to each other in shock, admiration, or dismay as they made note of every detail. Cassandra stood in apparent ease at the center of the chaos, her shoulders and expression perfectly relaxed, but Amy knew her well enough by now to recognize the rebellious glint in her eyes. She was more than ready to take them all on in verbal battle—and if the mages were given enough time to overcome their initial shock, that battle would be both forthcoming and disastrous.
“Time for a distraction,” she murmured. “Quickly, too.”
With a brisk nod, Miranda stepped forward, clapping her hands for silence. “Gentlemen! Would you all be so good as to assist me in bringing back the rest of our guests? I believe we’re now ready for your own magical demonstrations of the evening, as my daughter’s performance has come to such a satisfactory conclusion.”
Aha. Amy grinned inwardly as she watched the gathered and outraged attention of the room swing directly to her mentor, who was more than capable of dealing with it.
Cassandra might not realize it, but she always had her mother on her side—and like Amy, Miranda Harwood would do whatever it took to protect her family.
There was no need to interfere in Miranda’s entertainment now. So Amy stayed discreetly in place near the rounded wall, enjoying the impressive spectacle of her mentor putting the gathered ballroom in its place and setting every mage in the room, like it or not, into order. As all the fear, exhilaration and relief of the evening finally streamed out of Amy’s body, just one tingling point of physical awareness remained.
Jonathan Harwood hadn’t moved, either—and his hand still rested against her lower back.
Standing as they did, facing the rest of the party, no one else could see that single point of contact. His strong fingers hadn’t curled against the silk of her dress; she knew they would fall away the very moment she stepped forward.
With every breath, she felt the warmth from his hand spread a little further along her skin, like a sparkling, illicit secret between them. He seemed to be watching the political show with all of his attention; but it only took the slightest sidelong glance to see that his broad chest was rising and falling with his quick, shallow breaths. Amy didn’t even bother to bite back her smile of satisfaction at that sight.
Everyone who’d ever read the newspapers knew that Jonathan Harwood was a problem. But after ten months of being twisted round and round by that problem, she finally knew how to solve it.
Amy loved it when she could see exactly the right path for her future stretching before her, only waiting for her to make it all happen.
“Shall we make the announcement tonight?” she asked. “I think it’s probably the best timing for everyone, all things considered. That way, we can let all of the shocks collide at once.”
“Announce—you mean, Cassandra?” He blinked, his hand falling away from her back. “I rather thought she’d already announced herself.”
“Well, of course, that’s all taken care of,” Amy said briskly. “Your mother and I have a plan to deal with that.”
“Of course you do.” His lips curved appreciatively. “You always do.”
“And I like to keep to my plans, too,” Amy told him. “You know exactly which announcement I was planning to make tonight.”
“What?” He shook his head, his eyes widening with horror. “But—but you said...”
“Oh, really, Jonathan.” Amy tucked her hand into his arm with an affectionate pat. “Your editors wouldn’t believe it if they heard you stammering like this. I’m meant to be announcing my betrothal tonight, don’t you recall?”
“Oh, I recall that point perfectly well.” Jonathan’s tone was grim. “But since you’ve sent Llewellyn packing at last...”
“I’ll just have to announce the man I’d really like to wed, instead.” She gave him a darting, mischievous grin. “Don’t you
think that’s the only sensible conclusion?”
He stared at her for one speechless moment, his fair skin flushing. Then he shook himself hard and took a step backward, pulling his strong arm free from her grip.
“No.” His voice sounded as raw as if it had been scraped over stone. “You can’t do this, Amy. I won’t let you!”
“Oh, really?” She raised her eyebrows, stalking toward him with predatory delight. “And how do you plan to stop me, exactly?”
“Amy!” He raked an impatient hand through his thick hair, creating irrepressible brown tufts that stood upright with outrage as he backed toward the wall. “You were born to be a politician. Just look at what you’ve accomplished tonight! You can’t throw that all aside. Not for me.”
“And I won’t,” she told him with satisfaction.
Only a cruel woman could have enjoyed the unmistakable flash of dismay that passed through his blue eyes at those last words. Did he really think that she’d change her mind about him now? Amy had learned as a child to be intensely conscious of what any observer might think of her—but now, regardless of everyone else in the room, she reached up for a quick, reassuring touch against his faintly stubbled cheek.
“I’m not throwing away anything,” she told him patiently. “I’ve only decided to keep you at my side for all of it.”
He swallowed convulsively, leaning into her touch. “You can’t marry someone else and expect me—”
“Jonathan!” At that, she gave up and rolled her eyes, letting her hand fall to her side. “Are you truly that blinded by the rules? After showing me yourself how to break them?”
He shook his head slowly, his stunned gaze fixed on hers. “Every member of the Boudiccate has to be married to a mage. Everyone knows that’s the rule.”
“Yes, and everyone knew that only men could be mages,” she said, “until tonight. The rules are changing now, aren’t they?” The smile that spread across her face seemed to rise from her very soul, fully liberated at last and ready to spread its wings. “You’re the one who started it, all those years ago. You rebel!”
“I’m not the one turning the world inside out tonight.” The step he took toward her was only an inch, but she felt it like the promise of victory. “But Amy,” he murmured, his breath kissing her forehead, “we can’t know that it’ll work. Even if we do convince the Great Library to take on Cassandra as a student, the Boudiccate is another matter entirely. You could lose everything because of me!”
“But I won’t,” she told him firmly. “No matter whether they agree to admit me or not—and you know exactly how hard I’ll work to persuade them!—I can’t possibly lose everything, no matter what they decide. Not if I’ve gained you.”
He was the one man in the world whose presence made her feel stronger than she ever had before, ready to take on the world unrestrained by old fears. Who could ever be a better partner for a woman with ambition?
It was time to create her own vision of the future.
“Jonathan Harwood,” she said clearly, “will you marry me, share my life, and be my husband forever?”
Her words rang out into a sudden, unexpected silence, just as the mages and Miranda finished their conversation. Every head in the room swung around to stare at them.
Lord Llewellyn’s mouth dropped open into a disbelieving “O.” Mr. Westgate’s eyebrows rose in speculation. Cassandra, still standing alone in the center of the ballroom, broke into a delighted, triumphant grin.
I knew it! she mouthed across the room.
Surrounded by mages, Miranda Harwood blinked in visible shock...then pressed one hand against her lips as her eyes suddenly sparkled with her second tears of the evening. The unhidden joy in her gaze, as she looked across the room at the two of them, was enough to make Amy feel as giddy as if she could rise like a fey-light and float through the air.
“Amy Standish,” said Jonathan ruefully before the gathered assembly, “you certainly know how to make a proposal to remember.”
“Well, then?” She cocked her head, smiling up at him with delight. “What is your answer, for everyone here to witness? Because I know you are perfectly capable of saying no to whatever you’re asked in front of all the world.”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on hers. “Never to you,” he told her. “And I promise you, Amy, I never will.”
“Ohhh!” Amy had spent all her life learning poise and self-control. But she wasn’t entirely inhuman.
After ten months of holding herself back from kissing Jonathan Harwood, she couldn’t resist flinging herself into his arms any longer, in full view of their joint family and the most powerful mages of their nation.
Luckily, he welcomed the act with unmistakable enthusiasm...and it turned out that he was very good at one particular kind of magic after all.
A Note From Steph
Spellswept is a prequel to The Harwood Spellbook, a series of romantic fantasy novellas featuring Cassandra as an adult—and of course Jonathan and Amy, too! The Harwoods always stick together.
The series begins with Snowspelled, which Ilona Andrews called ‘clever, romantic and filled with magic.’ I hope you’ll enjoy the further adventures of the whole family! You can read the first page of Snowspelled in the next bit of this ebook, or just go ahead and click now to read the first two chapters on my website.
If you can take a few minutes to review Spellswept online, I will be really, really grateful. I really love writing this particular series, and honest reviews, whether good or bad (even just one-line reviews!) help so much in increasing visibility (and therefore sales). The more people who read these stories, the more of them I can afford to write! :)
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You can read excerpts from all of my novels and read many of my published short stories for free through my website: www.stephanieburgis.com
An Excerpt from Snowspelled
Chapter One
Of course, a sensible woman would never have accepted the invitation in the first place.
To attend a week-long house party filled with bickering gentleman magicians, ruthlessly cutthroat lady politicians, and worst of all, my own infuriating ex-fiancé? Scarcely two months after I had scandalized all of our most intimate friends by jilting him?
Utter madness. And anyone would have seen that immediately…except for my incurably romantic sister-in-law.
Unfortunately, Amy saw the invitation pop into mid-air beside me as we sat en famille at the breakfast table that morning. She watched with bright interest as I crumpled it up a moment later in disgust…and then she dashed around the table, with surprising agility despite her interesting condition, to snatch the ball of paper from my hands before I could toss it into the blazing fire where it belonged.
Naturally, I lunged to retrieve it. But I was too late.
The moment she smoothed it out enough to read the details, her eyes lit up with near-fanatical ardor. “Oh, yes, Cassandra, we must go! Just think: you will finally see Wrexham again!”
“I know,” I said through gritted teeth. “That is exactly why we are going to refuse it!”
“Now, love…” Her eyes widened, and she gave me her most innocent look...which put me on guard immediately.
Kind-hearted, loyal, and adorable are all phrases that may apply very well to my brother’s wife; innocent is not one of them, and never has been.
She had, after all, been my mother’s final and most promising political protégée.
“I should think,” she said now, as if idly, “that you would wish to show everyone how little notice you take of any gossip. After all, if we refuse this invitation, you know everyone will say it was because you were too afraid to see Wrexham again.”
My teeth ground together. “I am not afraid of seeing Wrexham.”
“Well, I know that,” Amy said, lo
oking as smug as a cat licking up fresh cream. “But does he?”
Well. It isn’t that I don’t know when I’m being managed. But there are some possibilities that cannot be borne. And the thought of my ex-fiancé’s dark eyebrows rising in his most fiendishly supercilious look at the news of my cowardly refusal…
I drummed my fingers against the table, searching for a way out.
Behind my brother’s outspread newspaper, an apparently disembodied voice spoke. “Better leave early,” my brother said. “It’s meant to snow next week, according to the weather wizards.”
Amy sat back, smiling and resting her hands on her rounded belly…
And that was how the three of us ended up rattling through the elven dales in mid-winter, with the first flakes of snow falling around our carriage.
* * *
Find out what happens next…
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to Rene Sears, Jenn Reese, Aliette de Bodard, R.J. Anderson, Leah Cypess, Karen Healey, and Patrick Samphire for beta-reading and critiquing this novella. I appreciate it so much!
Thank you to Tiffany Trent, who not only co-edited the anthology where it first appeared but also patiently and thoroughly edited and copy-edited this story. Any mistakes remaining are entirely my own!
Words can’t express how grateful I am to Ravven, who designed the gorgeous cover of this ebook for me as a holiday gift. (!!!) Ravven, your work is amazing and I know exactly how lucky I am to have received this gift. Thank you so much!
And as always, thank you so much to every reader who’s supported this series. It means a LOT to me!
Text copyright © 2018 by Stephanie Burgis Samphire
First published in The Underwater Ballroom Society, ed. Stephanie Burgis and Tiffany Trent, 2018.
Cover copyright © 2018 by Ravven
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