by M. J. Scott
Cameron stared down at him for a moment and then reversed the sword and neatly clipped the man on the temple. He slumped against the bathtub, unconscious.
“What did you do that for?” Sophie asked.
“He’s not going to tell us anything else useful,” Cameron said. “And we’re wasting time. We should leave. Go to Liam. Or Lord Sylvain.”
“No. Not them. They can’t help us. We need to leave, Cameron. Not just the palace. But Kingswell.”
“What?”
“Think about it. Whoever did this—tried to kill a royal witch—has to be powerful. Powerful enough to think they can avoid discovery. Or repercussions. That’s a limited list. He said the woman who hired him wore brown. The temple priors wear brown. Which makes me wonder if the Domina found out about what I did at the ball.” She shivered again as she looked at the man, and suddenly the familiarity of the sensation hit her. The same feeling she’d felt in the Salt Hall.
“If she did that, wouldn’t she just accuse you?”
Sophie bent and started going through the man’s pockets. “Not if she thinks she can kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of me and stir up the sentiment against Illvya.” She slid her fingers into the inner pocket of his jacket, feeling them go colder as she touched a leather pouch. She pulled it out, opened it. Tipped a flat silver disk stamped with an unfamiliar symbol onto the bed. The chill she felt grew stronger. “How much do you care to wager that that’s an Illvyan scriptii? I’m guessing he was supposed to leave it. Make it look like an Illvyan attack. There aren’t many people in Anglion who would be able to lay their hands on such a thing or manufacture one. But I’d imagine the Domina is one of them.”
“You really think the Domina wants you dead?”
“She seems the most likely candidate. She can’t control me. Which makes me a threat. She’s been working hard to have a position of influence with the queen. She’s not the type to waste that. Besides, even if I’m wrong, I think I’d rather learn from Lord Sylvain’s lessons and not take any chances. We can’t stay here, Cameron. He came into our room. He got past the guards and the wards. Someone helped him do that. We can’t trust anyone in the palace. If this was the Domina, then, yes, maybe she’ll be desperate enough to accuse me in public. If that happens, then I’m doomed. Or maybe she’ll just try again to get rid of me another way. I’m not going to sit here and wait for either of those things to happen.”
Cameron’s face had changed from surprised to angry. Anger was good. Anger would help them. “What are you proposing?”
“We need to get to Madame de Montesse,” Sophie said. “The portals in the palace are guarded. We can use hers to get away from Kingswell. Find somewhere to hide whilst we work out what to do.”
He blew out a breath. Then nodded, once. “All right. And this one?” He pushed at the man with his bare foot.
Sophie bit her lip. “You think we should kill him, don’t you?” She didn’t know if she could do that. Not in cold blood. Even if he had tried to kill her.
“It would be safest. We can’t risk him waking him up when we’re gone and alerting whoever sent him that he failed. No one’s come to investigate yet, so I’m thinking perhaps that the plan was to leave us to be discovered in the morning rather than anything sooner. So we have a window of time. Not too long, though.”
The maids usually woke them around seven. The hour bell had sounded midnight not long before the attack. She’d listened to each of the twelve long chimes when she’d been lying awake. “I have cylloroot powder that will knock him out for at least twelve hours,” she said. It was one of the supplies in the kit that Eloisa had given her for her Ais-Seann. “If he’s found here alive, then there’s a chance he’ll be interrogated. Have to tell someone else what he was sent here to do.”
“Or else whoever sent him will just arrange for him to die, too,” Cameron said, prodding the man with his toe. He didn’t stir. Still unconscious, then. That would make things easier.
“Maybe, but we can take the chance. We have to leave him here, dead or alive. It will be hard enough for us to get out of the palace. We’ll never manage it with a dead body. Though perhaps we should tie him more securely. Make sure he can’t get away if by some chance he does wake.” She was hardly an expert with herbs after all.
“All right. I’ll find things to secure him with; you get the herbs,” Cameron said.
She smiled at him gratefully and then whirled to get the cylloroot.
She mixed it carefully with some water, avoiding breathing any of it in, and carried the glass into the bathroom. Cameron had pulled the man closer to the basin, which was connected to several sturdy pipes, before he’d gone back into the bedroom to find more cravats to use. She could hear him rummaging through the drawers.
She watched the man for a moment, but he didn’t stir. Still unconscious, then. Sophie bent over him, intending to pry his mouth open and pour the liquid down his throat. But before she could, he lunged upward, and his hands fastened around her throat.
She dropped the glass as her breath was cut off, heard it shatter as she fought for air, the room going dark around her. Then Cameron was there, and the grip at her throat loosened as something warm sprayed across her face. She fell backward, landing with a thud on the tiles, which made her teeth rattle.
When her vision cleared, she saw a severed hand lying on the tiles near her feet and Cameron standing over the bathtub, wiping the sword in his hand clean with one of their towels.
“Is he dead?” she managed. Cameron nodded, and she rolled to her knees and vomited onto the floor.
Cameron picked her up and carried her back into the bedroom, putting her down on the rug before the fire. Then he came back with a damp cloth and wiped her face. The cloth came away red, and she realized she and her dress were splattered with a shockingly bright spray of blood. Cameron put down the cloth and picked up the Iska decanter, pulled off the top, and passed it to her.
“Drink,” he ordered. “Three good mouthfuls.”
She obeyed, and the warmth of the liquor hitting her stomach burned away some of the panic. The earthy taste scoured the bile from her mouth as well. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and put the decanter down. “He’s really dead?”
“Yes.” Cameron bared his teeth then in something that was probably meant to be a smile but was far more feral and terrifying. “There wasn’t time to be subtle. He was strangling you.” He rose then and tossed the cloth back through the bathroom door. His shirt was blood-spattered, too.
“Change your dress,” he said. “Pick something dark. Do you have a bag that’s easy to carry? Something with a strap maybe?”
She nodded. She had a leather satchel that held embroidery or painting supplies when Eloisa decided to take the ladies outdoors for the day. “It’s not terribly large, but yes.”
“Good. We need valuables. Money, your jewels. Whatever will fit, then whatever else you want to take that will fit and that’s not heavy. Not clothes. We can buy those. Wear boots, not shoes. And a cloak. A dark one.” He held out a hand and helped her to her feet. Kissed her. “We will be all right,” he said, and then turned to start packing.
Madame de Montesse’s shop was in darkness as they walked past it. Sophie’s pulse was roaring in her ears, but she had to trust that the illusion—the cloaking ward—that Cameron had used to enable them to get out of the palace by walking inch by agonizing inch quietly through the hallways and out into the gardens still held. Cameron led her down the next street and then through three separate alleys before he stopped in front of a high wooden fence with no gate that Sophie could see.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“Unless I’ve lost my sense of direction, this is the rear yard to Madame’s building. As far as I know, she lives over the shop. Let’s hope I’m right.” He nodded at the fence, face just a pale blur. “We need to get over this. I’m going to have to let the illusion drop when I let go of your hand. Can you see any wards on the fenc
e?”
“No.” She didn’t want to let go of his hand. The strong, sure warmth of it was the only thing that had stopped her from collapsing into hysterics at certain points of their flight from the palace. But she loosened her grip on his fingers as he stepped away from her. There would be no panicking. No giving in to the fear. They could do this. They would get away. Be safe. Even if she didn’t know how just now. She stared at the fence but didn’t see even the faintest hint of magic. “Can you see any?”
Cameron shook his head. “No. Good. You’re stronger. I thought they might be too subtle for me. All right. I’ll give you a boost. Drop down on the other side and stay there until I come over, too. I’ll throw your bag over once I’ve helped you.”
“Who’s going to help you?” she said.
“I’m at least a foot taller than you,” he said. “Plus I’m a Red Guard. I’d be a laughingstock if I couldn’t get myself over a mere six-foot fence.” He crouched down. “Here. Put your foot in my hands.”
Sophie obeyed, trying not to think about what might be on the soles of her boots after the circuitous route they’d taken out of the palace and down to Portholme. So far it seemed that no one had found out they had left. There were no unusual lights or sounds coming from the palace, no squads of Red Guard charging through the city streets.
But still, her heart beat hard in her chest again as she let Cameron boost her over the fence and dropped down the other side. The soft thud of her bag landing beside her made her start and sent her pulse racing even faster.
If Madame de Montesse wasn’t here, then she wasn’t entirely sure what they were going to do. Go to her parents? Or try to steal horses and leave town? The only other portals she knew of were in the palace grounds and at the temple. Neither of those were options. Without Chloe de Montesse’s assistance, she didn’t have the faintest idea how they could even start to get out of the capital.
She turned toward the back of the building. It did look to be the simple three-story stone building that held Chloe’s store. But her store was identical to the two that stood to either side of it. If Cameron had the wrong house, they would be in trouble. As Sophie stared at the building, trying to decide if it was the right one, she realized it was shimmering slightly. A ward. But not a ward that looked like any she had seen before. This was near black or maybe the color of water in moonlight, revealing glimpses of what lay beyond it, but only glimpses. Whoever had set that ward wasn’t an Anglion, she thought, and relaxed. This must be Madame de Montesse’s house.
Cameron landed beside her, making hardly any noise.
“Are you all right?” he said softly.
“Yes. But there’s a ward on the house.”
“Good,” he said.
“Good?”
He led her forward to the rear door. “Yes. Good. Because if she’s set them herself, she’ll wake up when I do this.” He put a hand through the ward, which didn’t immediately react, then on the door handle itself. She saw a flare of red around his hand—his power, not the ward, as far as she could tell—and the door swung inward. Blood magic, she was learning, was far more practical than earth magic when it came to running away.
They walked into the house. Her skin tingled as she passed through the ward, and Cameron closed the door behind them. They were in a small back room, full of boxes with a neat metal trough set into one wall with a tap above it. That was about all she could see in the moonlight. The door on the other side of the room stood open. Cameron took her hand, and they walked out of the room.
They were barely three feet into the hallway beyond when Sophie heard a sound that she had become all too familiar with. The sound of a pistol being cocked.
“Whoever you are,” Madame de Montesse’s voice said from somewhere above them, “I recommend that you stay exactly where you are.”
“Madame de Montesse, it’s me. Sophie Ken—Mackenzie.”
“Lady Sophia?” Chloe sounded startled.
An earth-light came softly to light on the wall near Sophie. Nowhere near full strength but light enough that Sophie could see the stairway where Chloe stood. Presumably Madame de Montesse could see them, too. Still, Sophie didn’t want to take any chance, and she stayed put.
“It’s me,” she said. “And Cameron.”
Chloe came down the stairs in quick, silent steps. She wore a pale silk robe over a long nightgown, her hair caught back in a simple braid, much like Sophie’s. The gun she was holding was quite a bit bigger than the gun Cameron had given Sophie, though.
She stared at Sophie and then at Cameron for a moment. Then she sighed and lowered the gun. “Well,” she said, sounding resigned. “I imagine this cannot be good. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“We don’t have time for the long version,” Cameron said.
“Then perhaps the short version?”
“Short version is someone tried to kill Sophie in our room tonight. I need to get her out of the capital.”
“What kind of someone?” Chloe said. Her accent seemed to have thickened as though surprise had loosened her hold on Anglion.
“If he’s who I think he is, then once upon a time he was a Red Guard.”
Chloe swung around to Sophie. “Someone in the palace tried to kill you?”
Sophie was starting to lose her grip on her hard-won sense of calm. “So it seems.”
“Do you know who?”
Cameron shook his head. “We have our suspicions. Though it may be safer for you not to know. We just need to use your portal to get out of Kingswell.”
Chloe tilted her head, the multicolored braid swinging gently. “Where are you planning on going?”
“We’re not sure yet. We’ll work that out once we’re away from the city.”
“Forgive me, but are you certain that anywhere in Anglion is safe? An attack on a royal witch in the palace itself. That is quite brazen. Whoever was behind it must be quite sure of themselves.”
Sophie felt her stomach turn over. “What are you saying?”
Chloe shook her head. “I think before we discuss this further, you should come into the workroom. No one will see a light in there; there are no windows.” She walked past them and opened the first door in the hallway.
“This isn’t where the portal was,” Cameron objected.
“No. As I said, there are things to discuss.” She walked into the room, clearly expecting them to follow.
Sophie glanced at Cameron. He tipped his head as if leaving the decision up to her. She didn’t really need to think about it. She followed Chloe into the room, heard Cameron behind her.
“Close the door,” Madame de Montesse said to Cameron.
He did so. Chloe waved a hand, and several earth-lights set on the walls came to life, illuminating the small room.
Cameron stood beside Sophie, his presence reassuring when nothing else was.
“Say what you have to say,” he said.
Madame de Montesse nodded. “Very well. You say someone tried to kill Lady Sophia. If that is true, then your trouble is deep.”
“That much we know,” Cameron growled.
“It seems to me that there are two people who are threatened by your wife’s recent ascent in both magic and the line direct,” Chloe said. “The first is your Domina Skey. From what I can see of your wife’s power, she is not bound like the other earth witches. I will not ask why, but I cannot imagine that it would sit well with your temple.”
“It doesn’t,” Sophie agreed.
“So. You are a threat. A risk that the temple—at least under that woman’s rule—is unlikely to tolerate for long, in my estimation. The second person threatened by you is the queen herself. You are strong, even if you are untrained. Stronger than Eloisa herself. And now very close in the line direct. A very attractive tool to those who may have been biding their time under King Stefan’s rule.”
“I am loyal to my queen,” Sophie protested.
“That may not matter. So. A dilemma. If the Domina tried
to kill you and you run, then she has all the resources of the temple behind her to search for you. If it was the queen, then she has both the temple and the Red Guard and the rest of the military. Do you truly believe you can remain hidden for long under these circumstances?”
“What other option do we have?” Sophie asked. She couldn’t fault Chloe’s logic, but she didn’t see what else they could do besides run.
Madame de Montesse straightened her shoulders. “The route that brings Illvyan refugees to Anglion also runs in the opposite direction.”
Sophie gaped at her. “You think we should go to Illvya? Illvyans hate Anglions.”
Chloe shook her head, sending her long braid bouncing. “No. We do not. Not in the way that Anglions hate Illvyans.”
“But—”
Chloe held up a hand. “Hear me out. It is true that my country has tried to conquer yours. But it is not out of any desire to kill all Anglions. I know that you are taught differently. Taught to fear us. But Illvya wants Anglion for its resources, mostly. We do not destroy the countries we add to our empire. That makes no sense. You would not be the first Anglions to take this road.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Cameron said.
“Nor I,” Sophie added.
“It is hardly within the interests of those in power to let you find out, though, is it?” Chloe said. “They wish you to be afraid of us. Which is the other part of the reason Illvya would like to control Anglion. Just as you have objections to our beliefs and our practice of the fourth Art, so do my countrymen object to your suppression of it and the way your temple limits your knowledge and access to magic.”
“Why should we believe you?” Sophie said. “After all, you fled Illvya. If it is such a perfect place—”
“It is not perfect,” Chloe said. “And I have told you why I left.”
Beside her, Cameron made a startled noise, and Sophie felt a twinge of guilt. She’d never told Cameron about her visit with Madame.
“Besides,” Chloe said. “What reason do I have to lie? There is no benefit in it for me if you leave. I am merely offering you a choice. One that I think will give you a greater chance of survival than remaining in Anglion. And a far greater chance to explore your magic. To learn what you may truly be capable of with no restrictions. But it is your choice. You may use my portal to merely leave Kingswell, or you can listen to me and I will start you on your way to Illvya. From there you can make your way to another place in the empire if you prefer. Though I think you may be better served if you remain in Illvya itself.”