Chapter 12
12
If only Saskia could turn every irritation into a mouse, life would be so much easier. Unfortunately, by the time sunset began to settle around Kadaric Castle that evening, she had to throw down her laboratory notebook in defeat. She simply couldn’t concentrate on her work, and the fault lay in her own misbehaving nerves, which hadn’t settled since that absurd confrontation earlier.
The sight of those fireballs flying towards Fabian’s chest…
Of course she’d stopped them in time. But what if she hadn’t been there?
Ugh, what nonsense! As a dark wizard himself, Fabian was no doubt more than able to protect himself. He would have handled that attack perfectly well without her if Saskia hadn’t happened to leap into action first.
And yet…
She was on her feet, sprinting for the library, the moment she finally realized the only possible reason for that maddening compulsion she’d been fighting against for hours: of course, this was all about protecting her kingdom. What else could it be?
“I need that finding spell sooner rather than later,” she explained five minutes later as she strode into the library, only slightly out of breath. “But I don’t want you to rush through your own important cataloguing work, so I’ll simply join in the hunt myself.”
His eyebrows—nearly as dark as her own—rose high over the thin black half-mask he’d swapped into since their last meeting. Then he bowed, graceful as ever, behind the long study table. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“I do wish.” She firmly swept up a pile of ancient newspapers and manuscripts from the chair across from him. “It’s the only practical solution.”
It certainly was. Practically speaking, with every minute she spent in Fabian’s quiet, steady presence, she felt calmer and more certain of herself. It might have been decades since she’d practiced any written spellwork, but she was perfectly capable of poring over these old books now. By the time half an hour had passed, she was even enjoying the process.
“Good gods. Take a look at this!” Breaking the studious silence, she pushed a leather-bound book across the table and pointed at the lengthy personal ruminations that its writer had included before the ingredients of his spell. “Do you think he actually expected anyone to take that advice seriously? Or was it all an elaborate practical joke?”
Fabian’s head tilted as he read… and then, frowning, he read it again. “That hardly seems typical preparation for spellwork.”
“Much less hygienic or good for a caster’s concentration!” She snorted. “I’ll wager he was cackling as he wrote that up, just waiting for all those poor, earnest young wizards to plaster themselves with mud and dance around naked in the cold for his amusement. He certainly never did that himself!”
For the first time since they’d met, Saskia saw Fabian’s lips quirk into a near smile. His gaze rose to meet hers. “One can only hope not,” he said gravely.
Grinning, Saskia retrieved the book and then settled back into her chair for another hour of work and companionship. Neither of them was lucky enough to actually find the right spell in that hour, but they did take turns pointing out different ones of interest… and by the time she left, feeling warm and relaxed, she could hardly remember all the agitation that she’d felt earlier that day.
As she returned to the library again and again for snatched hours of work across the days, she had the satisfaction of seeing her serious librarian grow more and more comfortable in her company. Of course, he never treated her with less than full respect—but as time went on, he stopped holding himself so carefully in her presence, as if no longer awaiting a sudden threat. Better yet, more and more often, he allowed her to glimpse the dry humor that lurked behind his grave facade.
And oh, that facade was so pretty…
No!
Saskia caught herself, a week after her first visit, gazing not at the crumbling spellbook in her hands but at Fabian’s all too appealing profile, half-masked, with every angle lit by the warm glow of a nearby gas lamp. Snapping her gaze back to the pages spread before her, she bit back a groan of self-reproof.
The man had literally leapt away from her the last time they’d been close enough to touch, as if she were the monster her uncle had always named her. She might have earned his trust since then, but that didn’t mean he wanted more than friendship between them—and he certainly didn’t need her gaping at him like a lovestruck fool when he was trying to work!
Setting her teeth together, she forced her gaze back to the book on her lap and the task it represented… which was, of course, the only reason she was here in the library in the first place.
Her fingers tightened on the delicate pages.
“Your Majesty?” Fabian lowered his own book, frowning. “Is anything amiss?”
“Nothing at all.” She stretched her lips in a forced smile. “Just… reminding myself of my own restrictions.”
His eyebrows rose.
To Saskia’s intense relief, the door opened before he could speak again.
“ Here you both are.” Mrs. Haglitz nodded firmly as she surged inside to set down an overloaded tray on the table between them, nudging books and manuscripts out of the way. “Now, mind you don’t waste any mouthfuls of this good meal, either of you! And as for you, Your Majesty…” She pinned a minatory glance on Saskia, who tried not to squirm beneath it. “I’ll expect to see you soon afterwards.”
… For even more Winter’s Turning preparations. “Of course.” Saskia sighed, her shoulders slumping.
At least worrying over that impending nightmare would provide some distraction from her too-tempting librarian. And as the festival approached, every day of the next three weeks did indeed prove increasingly full of interruptions. Letters flooded in from dignitaries across the continent, all too willingly accepting her invitations but following up each and every acceptance with lists of special requests and petty demands that she couldn’t have cared less about.
Fortunately, Mrs. Haglitz and Morlokk were both on hand to help siphon off the nonsense. Even more fortunately, Saskia now had a second refuge in the castle to which she could retreat when everything became too much.
She could even tell herself, truthfully, that she was there to do important work.
As it came to her final few hours of freedom before the hordes descended on Kadaric Castle, she turned her steps once more towards that quiet, soothing refuge… and carefully tamped down the bubbling excitement that wanted to rise with every step that took her closer to her librarian.
“Your Majesty.” As she stepped into the room, Fabian turned from the bookshelf he’d been emptying, his lips curving beneath his half-mask. “You’ve found time to help me again today?”
“Yes, please. ” Saskia collapsed into the comfortably faded and nicely cushioned chair that had appeared in her usual place and become her favorite seat over the past dozen sessions. The moment those cushions met her back, she felt the knotted muscles in her shoulders finally begin to ease. “Bring me books, any books. As long as they have nothing to do with seating arrangements, I can take on anything!”
“Ah.” His teeth glinted as his small smile widened into a grin. “You have been undergoing torture. I understand.”
“I’m not certain that you could.” As he walked towards her, his arms full of books and his dark cloak sweeping gracefully against the floor, she forced herself to ignore the teasingly exposed hollows of his cheeks under that half-mask… and the way an unexpected dimple had appeared along with that rare, mischievous grin. “Until the last two days, even I couldn’t have imagined that anyone could possibly care so deeply about where they sat at supper. If it were up to me, I’d send them all up to their rooms to feast on their own and impress themselves with their own consequence.”
“Mm.” His soft-looking lips briefly compressed, that fascinating dimple deepening. “I’m not sure how many diplomatic negotiations could be managed with no casual conversations or meetings allowed.”
“That’s what everyone keeps on telling me.” Accepting the small pile of books that he handed her, Saskia set all but one of them onto the table in the spot that he’d kept clear for her. “Perhaps I should simply hire an actress to wear a mask and crown for the whole of tonight while I stay in here and get much more enjoyable work done.”
It was astonishing just how expressive a man could be with half of his face covered. His rueful amusement was unmistakable. “Even from the very little that you’ve told me, I doubt your First Minister would approve.”
“She might prefer it, actually.” Saskia sighed as the tension began inexorably to creep back into her tightening shoulders. Mirjana would be arriving soon after lunch, in plenty of time to cast her eye over all of the preparations… and over Saskia, too.
Flipping open the book in her lap, she resigned herself to her fate. “I can’t stay for long this time, I’m afraid. I’ve been informed that it will be a many-hour-long process to transform my appearance into the image of a proper, respectable, and civilized ruler.”
“Why in the world would you wish to do that?” Fabian halted a foot away from his own seat, staring down at her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but that seems entirely counterproductive.”
“Really?” Frowning, she closed the book. “How so? The whole purpose of this dire house party is to convince the nobles of Kitvaria, as well as my fellow rulers across the continent, that they’ve nothing to fear from me. I need to prove I can fit in perfectly among them.”
“Are you certain?” His eyebrows rose. “I would have thought…”
The silence dragged out between them as she waited for him to complete the statement.
Finally, he shook his head with a grimace. “Never mind. You wouldn’t want my opinion. I was only ever trained in diplomacy, not in governance.”
“Then you had far more relevant training than I ever did—and I would welcome your opinion.” She would also dearly love to know how he’d come by any such training as a young dark wizard.
Obviously, he must have been raised outside the Empire. That was the only way any natural magic-worker could remain free of abduction by the Imperial state and escape a bleak childhood of “training”—or rather, forced indoctrination—in one of the cold Gilded Academies.
But had he been born into a noble house in one of those free kingdoms, expected to ignore his own magical powers for the sake of an exalted family name? Or…?
Her musings—familiar by now, after weeks of drifting, casual conversations and increasingly hungry curiosity—were cut off by his low sigh as he sat down across from her. Setting his hands flat on the table between them, he said, “In my own personal opinion… no, wait. I have a question. Did you become the Queen of Kitvaria by being courteous and civilized in your appearance and your diplomatic approach?”
Saskia snorted, which was all the answer merited by such a foolish question.
“And did you successfully defend your kingdom from invasion afterwards by respectable, civilized means?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“What I know is that you’ve successfully created a reputation that’s caused everyone on the continent to whisper your name in fear… and the High General of Estarion to withdraw his forces from your border. So I wonder: Is that reputation something you truly wish to change at this point?”
Narrowing her eyes, Saskia considered the point that he was making. “Everyone agreed that my scandalous powers were required to seize the throne from my uncle, for the sake of the kingdom. Now that he’s gone and I wear the crown, though, the highest Kitvarian nobles and a fair few of my fellow rulers find the thought of a wicked queen… unnerving.”
His head tilted. “And do you wish to settle their nerves by hiding your powers and your nature now? I don’t believe the queens of Nornne and Balravia have ever taken that particular approach.”
No, they hadn’t, had they? Lorelei and Ailana would laugh in the faces of anyone who asked either of them to fit in and hide their strength.
Saskia’s fingers rattled against the book in her lap as she considered the other two so-called Queens of Villainy… and her own First Minister.
Unlike any of them, Mirjana was accustomed to being liked and admired. She had been raised in the Kitvarian court, the daughter of an influential family with diplomatic and marital links all across the continent. She knew down to her bones how to fit in with respectable continental society, and she’d been attempting to pass on that knowledge to Saskia from the first time they’d met.
If Saskia followed Mirjana’s advice tonight, she might well manage to pass as an ordinary queen for an evening, to put both her nobles and her fellow rulers at ease.
And yet, when it came down to her own deepest needs…
The last time Saskia had walked into a royal Winter’s Turning, she’d been surrounded by guests who openly wondered whether her innocent appearance was a mere disguise. Did she really want to repeat that experience?
No.
In her castle, in her own damned kingdom, she would hold her head high and leave them no room to even consider that question.
“You give excellent advice as always, Sinistro.” She set the book she’d held, unread, upon the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to change a good many of the last month’s careful plans very quickly —and see that the skulls are set back up along our entry path in good time for boiling.”
Hours later, Felix was so immersed in the late queen’s magical primer that he entirely failed to notice either the knock that sounded on the library door or the soft thuds of footsteps against the carpeted floor. It was only when a throat was cleared, pointedly, just before his study table that he finally realized he was no longer alone.
“Your Ma—oh!” He’d become so accustomed, by now, to Queen Saskia’s regular visits that it took him a moment to wipe the foolishly delighted smile from his face. He blinked as he reconciled his instinctive, hopeful expectation with the actual figure who loomed over him… and then he gave a respectful nod, capping the fountain pen that he’d been using to take notes. “Mr. Morlokk, good evening. May I be of service to you?”
“Not to me, Sinistro, but to the queen.” Morlokk’s rumbling voice was as calm as ever, but as the majordomo’s gaze passed over the open manuscript, Felix had to fight a guilty impulse to cover it from view.
There should be nothing suspicious about Her Majesty’s librarian choosing to study her mother’s work, and yet his hand still twitched towards the elegantly inked title of the closest page (“A Structuring of Spells”). He clenched his fingers into a fist to stop it…
And Morlokk’s gaze missed nothing.
Felix carefully relaxed the muscles in his jaw beneath his half-mask. At moments like this, he missed the security of the full silver mask, difficult though it had made eating and drinking across each day. “I am always happy to be of service to the queen. Is there a particular book she’d like me to send her, to show any of her guests? Or…?”
“She requires you, ” Morlokk said gravely. “She sent me with the reminder that you are not to spend this night sequestered while the rest of the castle celebrates the season. You are invited and expected to join in with the official festivities.”
“What?” Felix’s eyebrows soared at the very idea. To step out into a castle crowded with nobles and rulers from across the continent, every one of whom would have seen his image regularly printed in newspapers even if he hadn’t met them personally…
Worse yet, if any other dark wizards were visiting, they might well want to test his supposed powers in another of those “rituals of dark wizardry” that the last one had treated him to.
Felix gathered his wits with an effort. “That will not be necessary, I assure you. I am a member of staff, hardly an invited guest. I am more than happy to continue my work here, so—”
“Invited and expected, ” Morlokk repeated, with the infinite patience and inevitability of the rock-encrusted mountains he resembled. “Her Majesty made it clear that no refusal was to be tolerated, no matter how admirable your work ethic. You will present yourself tonight for the opening festivities, the Winter’s Turning ritual, and the feast of celebration afterwards.”
“But… why ?” Felix asked helplessly. He waved at the towering stacks of books around him. “Surely, Her Majesty would be better served by—”
“Her Majesty’s decisions are not ours to question.” Morlokk’s tone was as unruffled as ever, even as he spoke the most blatant untruth Felix had heard in weeks.
He hadn’t yet put together all of the intriguing details of Queen Saskia’s past, but she clearly treasured every one of her staff members—and Morlokk and Mrs. Haglitz, in particular, held more influence over the dangerous Queen of Kitvaria than anyone else in the world.
Still, her majordomo continued implacably, “We must all serve the queen according to her wishes. Before her guests leave tomorrow, she wishes her dark wizard to be witnessed by everyone.”
“I see.” Felix expelled a long sigh of surrender. Of course. Had he really spent so long away from court that he’d forgotten the very basics of diplomacy? Or was it his hopelessly growing infatuation that had sent his thoughts racing so recklessly elsewhere?
Naturally, Saskia didn’t care whether or not he, himself, happened to be at her party; she was only making a show of force by ensuring that all of her invited guests saw the ominous dark wizard in her employ. That was simple good sense.
He’d spent all of his life, until the last few weeks, being a walking and talking political symbol; he could certainly manage another evening of it for her sake.
No more excuses. Felix straightened his shoulders as he rose to his feet.
Whether she knew it or not, Queen Saskia had saved his life more than once already. He wouldn’t hide from any challenges that she asked of him now, no matter how many risks he had to run.
Without looking away from Morlokk, he reached out to slip the page of notes he’d been making into the folds of his cloak. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I must prepare myself.” He wouldn’t leave any too-revealing notes behind—and he couldn’t possibly step into that gathering without a mask that covered his entire face.
Oskar had flapped off some time ago—probably in hopes of stealing extra food from the bustling kitchens deep below—but Felix had no doubt that the crow would be back soon to find him. With luck, the loyal creature would be just as willing to follow Felix tonight into this kind of battle as he had been four weeks ago, when it was magic they had faced together.
With a full mask, a black cloak, and a sinister bird on his shoulder, even Felix could look the very image of a dark wizard… couldn’t he?
“Sinistro.” Morlokk gave him a respectful bow before stepping aside to clear his way.
Felix expected the majordomo to follow after him. But when he looked back from the library doorway a moment later, he found Morlokk frowning thoughtfully down at the study table and the manuscript Felix had left unguarded behind him.
Felix’s stomach curdled with unmistakable warning.