by M. J. Scott
She could fairly feel the frustration rising off him, the need to argue, to talk her around, to shape the world to how he wanted it to be. She tensed, waiting for the argument. But then she saw him make a choice. Saw him let it go. Let her go, perhaps.
"As my lady wishes," he said in a tone not completely free of regret. Then he drew her back down to him and she went, trying to focus only on the joy of his touch and not the dawn that was coming too fast.
Chapter 18
Just one more step.
Imogene stared at the salt circle ringing her and the second circle she'd painstakingly drawn opposite it.
One more step and she would call a familiaris sanctii and bond the creature to her. A goal achieved. A step forward in the life she wanted for herself.
A success.
After two unending weeks of study and preparation for this moment. Hours she'd thrown herself into, both fascinated by the sanctii with each piece of new information she had gained and simultaneously aware she was using that fascination, using her bone-deep certainty that this was what she should do to cloak the equal bone-deep certainty that she missed Jean-Paul like fire every second she let herself think about him.
It didn't matter that she knew it was ridiculous. Didn't matter that she barely knew him. Didn't matter one whit what perfectly rational and logical arguments she came up with to convince herself she’d done the right thing when she'd had crept out of his bed at dawn, gone home to change and pack, and then reported to Colonel Ferritine to tell him she wanted to take part in the training—and, what was more, she could leave Lumia early if that would be useful.
The captain had looked at her oddly for a moment, and she'd wondered if he could somehow tell where she’d spent the night. Or that she was so eager to leave the city for reasons other than the allure of a sanctii. But he had nodded and agreed in the end, and she'd come here to Cylienne, a small village in the middle of nowhere. East of Lumia by several days’ carriage ride. Only important in the scheme of things because of the barracks here that was used for various training activities. The sanctii school being one of them. Of course, she hadn't had to endure several days in a carriage. She'd been given permission to use the portal at the Cylienne barracks to make her journey. The others chosen to attempt a bonding had followed over the next two days, seven other officers of various ages, though most, like her, were still only lieutenants. She was the only woman among them this time. Somehow that made her only more determined to succeed.
She'd buried herself in the books they told her to read and practiced everything she had been taught. She knew the ritual she was about to perform forward and backward and, quite possibly, could have recited it in her sleep. But that didn't change the fact that just then, when she should be focused only on the ritual and the fact that she was about to summon a sanctii, there was a small part of her mind wondering what Jean-Paul would think if he could see her now.
Would he murmur a proud "Well done, Lieutenant," or would he be shocked? Or worse, indifferent, having already forgotten her?
No.
No time to pine over something out of reach. She needed to think about the sanctii. Once they made their bond, he would be hers for life—or until she released him. A far more important moment in her life than a night in the bed of a man she still wanted but couldn't have.
She wrenched her thoughts back to the circle and the chamber where she stood. Looked down at the brazier floating in the channel of water between the two circles.
So. A choice. One she could make for herself. One that was hers and hers alone.
She stepped a little closer to the edge of the circle, careful that her boots didn't brush the salt. She wore black breeches with her uniform. A skirt in a circle where one had to move could cause unforeseen accidents.
A breath to center. Another to focus her attention down to nothing but here and now. Then she drew the silver dagger from her belt, lifted her hand to hover over the brazier, then pricked her finger to drip blood into the flames. It was rare to use blood in water magic, but it was water of a kind. And bonds needed to be sealed.
As the drops hit the coals, the tiny sizzle each impact made thrumming through her, she began to speak the words. A steady stream of complex precise commands. At least they were in Illvyan, not the sanctii tongue. That sounded like gravel and ash given voice, and though she had learned more of it in her time at Cylienne, she wasn't adept enough to speak it now while also pouring her power out over the flame and the blood and into the circle beyond.
It took less time than she expected. She was still repeating the words of the ritual for only the second time when a sanctii appeared in the circle beyond her.
She didn't stop talking, didn't so much as allow herself to flinch. The way the sanctii appeared was always startling to a degree. As though human minds could never quite get used to another living being just stepping out of thin air.
The sanctii stood quietly, making no attempt to break the circle. She had been warned that some resisted, but he seemed ...attentive rather than reluctant. The linen—or something near to it—pants and tunic he wore were black, making him appear almost part of the shadows not entirely chased away by the fire. But only almost. He was too solid to be a dream, his body, tall and strong. The arms bared by the tunic were heavily muscled, the skin mottled gray and black that reflected the glow of the brazier coals, the red gleaming over the near silver lines that cut through parts of the gray. The gray tones of his face were broken by a bold slash of black across his eyes, shadowing them even more than usual. A sanctii's eyes were inky black, no whites visible. His reflected the firelight, too, the flashes of red in their depths almost mesmerizing.
But she couldn't afford distraction. She had to complete the ritual.
"What shall I call you?" she asked carefully. The summons should compel him to answer truthfully. To make him give her a name to use to complete the bond. But some sanctii chose not to answer at all. Without the name, there could be no bond. They knew that as well as the mages did. Those who chose to speak were choosing to be bound. No one quite knew why they agreed. Access to the human world seemed to please them in some way they didn’t choose to explain.
"Ikarus," the sanctii said. His voice did indeed sound like his throat might be made of rock, but Imogene detected no hesitation in it.
"Ikarus," she repeated. "I am Imogene."
He tilted his head at her. "Female."
"Yes." She had been told to speak truth in the circle. "Does that matter?"
Ikarus shrugged, muscles rolling under his skin. "No difference. Strong magic." That time his voice sounded almost approving.
Satisfaction swept through her. She nodded at the sanctii. "You know what I will ask next?"
That wasn't exactly sticking to the script. Perhaps she would regret it, but he had made no move to attempt to break her magic yet. And she would rather their bond be forged as she meant to continue. With him as a partner to her magic, not just a servant to fetch and carry and perform magical tasks to order as a servant might sweep her room or wash her clothes. He would need to follow orders sometimes, as she herself did, but she wanted an ally, not an enemy compelled.
"Yes," Ikarus replied.
Her hand was still dripping blood into the brazier. She needed to finish this before she did something foolish like grow faint. She straightened her shoulders. Held the sanctii's gaze unflinching. And spoke the words to bind him to her.
Chapter 19
Imogene had only been back in her new quarters in the Lumia barracks for an hour when a knock on the door interrupted her packing. She hauled herself up from the floor near the chest of drawers she had been filling, wondering if her mother had sent another parcel from Imogene's room at home.
It was expected that those who had newly bonded with a sanctii would live at the barracks for some time. A way of providing breathing space whilst they adjusted to the bond and learning to work with a sanctii. Her parents, who she had visited as soon as she had ret
urned from Cylienne, had reacted much as she had expected they would to her announcement that she had bonded with Ikarus. Her father had looked surprised, then proud. Her mother surprised, then alarmed. Then annoyed. A daughter with a sanctii was a very different kettle of fish when it came to the marriage mart.
Imogene had almost been able to see the wheels turning behind her mother's narrowed eyes—no doubt reforming her plans for Imogene's social life for the next few months. Her mother had been no more pleased by the news that Imogene would be living in the barracks for the foreseeable future. Imogene hoped devoutly that she would be sent on another assignment before she had to return home to live. That might give her mother time enough to calm down. Or Imogene time enough to find a home of her own if her mother couldn't reconcile herself to this new reality.
Her mother had insisted on helping Imogene pack, and then there had already been an additional package of embroidered wall hangings waiting when Imogene had arrived with her trunks far later in the day than she had expected to return. Why her mother thought she might want to hang a delicate floral embroidery in an army barracks was beyond her. But she recognized the gift as the beginning of a peace offering perhaps, even if it was one she had little use for.
The room she was allotted as a lieutenant didn't fit much more than a bed, an armoire, a tiny worn armchair, and a small table with two chairs. Officers were allowed to make the accommodations more comfortable, but she wanted to do it her way. Her taste was not her mother's. If this was another parcel from her mother, she hoped it would contain food rather than furnishings.
But when she opened the door, it was no courier waiting with package in hand. Instead, the hallway was very full of Jean-Paul.
So much so she made a stupid noise of surprise, prompting Ikarus to say [Come?] in her head.
[No,] she replied silently. She'd grown used to the form of wordless communication the sanctii could use over distances all too quickly. It was comforting to know that Ikarus was there if she needed him, could hear her, wherever he may be. [I'm fine.]
But she should talk to the man standing before her rather than the sanctii. "Major du Laq," she said cautiously. "What can I do for you?"
"You didn't tell me you were back." He smiled, and her heart kicked.
She had to fight the urge to smile back. What was he doing here? She had made herself clear. She'd told him they had no future. Then she'd left him while he was sleeping. Not to mention left the city altogether.
She shouldn't want to smile at him. Perhaps she needed to be clearer with herself, too.
"I only just arrived," she said. Then realized he might take that to mean she’d had every intention of contacting him. "And I wasn't aware that you expected to be informed of my whereabouts, Major." She glanced past him into the hallway. So far they were alone, but there were six other lieutenants living on this floor. One of them could arrive at any moment. She needed Jean-Paul to leave.
His smile didn't falter. "Ah, yes, about that. I've decided that your idea was a bad one." He stepped fractionally closer. She held her ground, though his scent made her head spin, the memory of his touch flooding her senses.
"My idea?"
"That we should end things. That was a terrible idea, Imogene. I have missed you these last two weeks. More than I care to admit, frankly. Your commanding officer wouldn't tell me where you had gone. I did, however, hear that the latest cohort from Cylienne would be returning today. I took a chance that perhaps that was where you were and, therefore, that you might have returned."
There was no point lying about it. And certainly the news that she was now bonded might work to change his mind about their future. "It was."
"And am I to offer congratulations on a successful venture?" He looked as though he actually meant the words.
"If you are asking if I bonded a sanctii, then yes, I did. His name is Ikarus. Would you like to meet him?" She lifted her chin. Jean-Paul merely shook his head, expression unchanged.
"Not just yet, perhaps," he said. "But congratulations, Lieutenant. You are a woman of more talents than I knew, it seems." He smiled, head tilting. "You didn't tell me you had won the chance to do this."
"It didn't seem relevant," she said. "I didn't think I would see you again, other than in a professional capacity should our paths cross, perhaps." There. Blunt enough.
"It seems, Lieutenant, that you have found it easy to put me from your mind."
No I haven't. She bit back the words. Swallowed. "There seems little point in yearning for something beyond my reach."
"Such a logical answer. Are you sure you are not, at heart, an ingenier like your father after all, Lieutenant? Does logic rule all?"
His eyes were locked on hers, the gray depths of them a color she could get swept away in. If she was so foolish as to let herself fall.
"Did you not think of me while you were away? Were your thoughts only for the sanctii and what came after him? Tell me that is true, Lieutenant, and I shall walk away."
I didn't miss you. Four short words. She could speak them and it would be over. A simple lie. Best for both of them. But somehow, she couldn't lie to him. She wanted to give him the truth. She could offer that much. But not here in the hallway where anyone could come across them, having what could only look like a lovers' quarrel.
Chapter 20
Imogene stepped back from the door, waved him inside. Closed the door again after he crossed the threshold with three determined strides and pressed her palm to it to set her wards to work so they wouldn't be interrupted. Or overheard. Then she turned to face Jean-Paul, who stood, muscles tense, eyes intent, filling the small room with his presence without even speaking.
"I can't tell you that's true," she said. "I did think of you. There is something between us. Something that could have been. But nothing has changed. You are a noble. You'll be a duq. I'm a lieutenant. With a sanctii. I am not the woman you will marry. And I will not be anything less. I won't be a temporary thing, a pause while your family wears you down to choosing one of the oh-so-suitable noble daughters of the court. It hurt to leave your bed, and that it hurt was terrifying. I do not do this, Jean-Paul. I do not let myself—" She hesitated.
The words that sprang to mind were “fall in love,” but that was too big a truth to let slip. Too big to acknowledge, even. Love at first sight was a concept she had thought only true of the romantic tales in novels. She was, indeed, too much her father's daughter to believe in it, let alone do it. She had told herself that she would be sensible when it came to her heart. That she wanted a career. To travel the empire. So she could give up a more normal life of marriage and children. Or find a man who would support her choices should she want to. Choose with care based on friendship and chemistry.
Not in the blink of an eye and a chance encounter in a ballroom. No one did that.
"Grow attached so fast," she continued. "But it would hurt more to have you again, knowing there can only be another ending."
He watched her as she spoke, gray gaze locked on hers. She had the curious feeling that she might as well have been landing a blow with each word, though he didn't flinch or interrupt or look away. Instead he just watched, as though he was committing her to memory.
One to be treasured when he left her behind, perhaps.
She let the silence hang, not knowing what else to say. No words that would come easily over the burn of denial in her throat and the regret chilling her gut. The last few days, caught up in Ikarus, in the rush of power and delight that came with the sanctii, she had convinced herself that she was forgetting this man. That had been untrue. But she would forget him with time. She had to.
"Ah, but Imogene, what if there didn't have to be an ending?" he said.
She felt her mouth drop open. For someone like him, those words meant only one thing. Marriage. "You're going to be a duq."
One corner of his mouth lifted. "I know. It is a nuisance. But it is not the only thing I am. I am a man, too. A man who knows what he wants."
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"Your family would never agree." She still couldn't get her mind around the idea. Let alone say the word "marriage" out loud.
"They may take some persuading, true." He shrugged. "But my father raised me to know what I want and to do what I think is right. He may not like learning that his lessons have stuck well when it comes to this, but he will not stand in my way. I want you, Imogene. My life is not full of many things I can truly choose for myself. I think my wife should be one of them."
Had it grown hot in the room? "Even if your family agreed, the court...I was not raised to be a duquesse, to run a grand estate." She waved a helpless hand at him. "I like my job. I'm not ready to give it up."
"I would not ask you to. Not entirely. We have time. My father is not yet old, and he is healthy." There was that certainty again. That tone of believing he could will whatever he wanted into being. It was seductive.
"I have a sanctii," she said. "Has there even been a duquesse with a sanctii?"
"If I have no problem with it, it should not bother anyone else. As I see it, it is an asset to the family, not a liability." He grinned at her then. "And a reminder that I would be a foolish man to mistreat a wife who holds such an asset."
"Were you intending to mistreat your wife?" she asked, breathless. Trying for a joke to lighten the sense that her world was once more spinning around her, perchance to settle in an entirely new order.
He shook his head. "Never," he said fiercely. "What is mine, I protect. I am enough of a du Laq to know that is true. I would keep you safe, Imogene. You can go, be a diplomat, wield that mind and magic of yours in service to the emperor. You can have your sanctii. And I will stand ready for you when you return."