Chapter 10
GALLMAU
G allmau had already cracked his glass of cider, his hand clenching into a fist as the Queen spoke.
Despite knowing what she would say, hearing the proclamation announced in public had hurt.
His sister was proud and independent to a fault.
She would marry to advance the interests of her country and not for love, but the political intrigue surrounding the match would thrill her.
Now, when Rixende was helpless and imprisoned—if she was alive at all—she was to be nothing more than a prize in a battle between witches.
Jacques presented himself to the Queen first, kneeling before her and promising to burn Rixende’s Bone Lord abductor alive. Abarsam followed next, presenting his handsome son and launching into a carefully phrased speech.
“Abarsam’s son isn’t all that bad.” Gallmau made that grudging allowance as he watched Baahir answer a few questions from the Queen in slightly inflected Soissons with quiet deference and a wide, attractive smile flashing white against his rich brown skin.
“I’d imagine Rixende wouldn’t be too disappointed coming home to him in her bed every night.” Meri gave Gallmau a lascivious wink, and Gallmau relaxed.
He was afraid he had insulted her by prying into her relationship with the Grand Vizier and his abrupt response to her question about the Office of the Royal Mistress.
Maybe if his mother had lived through his birth, the King would have granted her the title.
Or maybe she wouldn’t even have wanted it.
“Perhaps you could try him out in the sack yourself before deciding he’s good enough for your sister.”
“You have a low opinion of my morality.” Gallmau did his best to sound offended, although the thought of spending a night with Baahir was far from unpleasant.
Once again, Meri had shaken him out of his feelings of worthlessness, and he needed to start acting like he belonged here.
The Queen had requested he and Meri present themselves as the final rescuer team and welcomed him back to the Court.
He didn’t want to think about the likely reason she had forgiven him so easily—her fear Rixende wouldn’t return at all.
He could start by looking presentable. The liquid in his cracked glass had begun to leak out over his hand and the cuff of his suit, so he waved down another of the Noviodunam novices who were acting as waiters.
A young man with a pale freckled face and mop of curly dark hair came over, wearing a gold and white simar— a sort of magic scarf the witches of the Noviodunam favored—hanging down in vertical bands over his brown novitiate robes.
“I’d like a fresh cider, please. My cup’s sprung a leak. ”
The novice gave him a mischievous grin and tapped the side of the goblet. The glass grew warm in Gallmau’s hand and reformed back into its original shape, without any visible defect.
“There, I fixed it for you.” The young man ran his eyes over Gallmau without trying to hide his interest and added, “If I can do anything else for you this evening, Monsieur de Rohan, all you have to do is ask.”
“Obviously, my low opinion of your morals is more than justified.” Meri leaned over to sniff Gallmau’s magically repaired glass as the Artifex Guild novice left to attend other guests. “His spell smells like hot sand and burning metal, and he was shamelessly trying to get you into bed.”
Gallmau wanted to point out that being propositioned by a good-looking witch wasn’t his fault, but once again caught a glimpse of the slender man dressed in black who had attracted his attention earlier.
He wore a powdered wig of the type favored by rich bankers from Diutisc in the north and had his back to Gallmau as he watched the proceedings with rapt attention.
Gallmau craned his neck, trying to get a better glimpse of him.
Handsome enough, at least from a rear view.
“Your doctor witch friend is also joining the rescue.” Meri’s comment jerked Gallmau back to the presentation of sorcerers. “Is she planning to take out the Bone Lord with more kitchen implements, or will she at least pack a scalpel?”
Valentina came forward and dropped into a curtsey in front of the queen.
Like her ex-fiancé Jacques, she had struck a balance between her status as a close confidant of the heir to the throne and a Noviodunam-trained mage when choosing her clothing.
She was dressed in a fashionable but conservative gown of sky blue and gold—medicus colors—and a simar embroidered with healing sigils.
“That’s the thing, she can’t fight.” Gallmau respected Valentina’s loyalty to Rixende, but a battle with a Bone Lord strong enough to kill Zhang Jue would be incredibly dangerous.
Even Jacques, an incensor with battlefield experience, was taking two Shields with him, and Abarsam had his son and a bodyguard twice Gallmau’s size.
“The medici can’t even serve as military surgeons, much less use their Gift to harm others. ”
“Her magic smells different than most.” Meri’s nose could sniff out spells and curses anywhere, a skill that had come in handy in their adventures over the years. “Powerful and astringent. Like witch hazel.”
“Makes sense for a medica, I suppose.” Gallmau could see Jacques scowl as Valentina rose to address the queen.
Clearly Valentina hadn’t told the incensor she was planning to join the quest. That served the bastard right, but Gallmau could understand his concern.
“She was the youngest professor of medicine ever at the University of Amor, as well as teaching at the Noviodunam before she resigned over that hostage exchange scandal that got Odart kicked out.”
Meri glowered at the name. Gallmau didn’t remember telling her about the former head of the benandanti, but she probably knew him by reputation.
Everyone hated Odart, even his son Jacques.
The man didn’t even have his own magic. Odart was a mirror mage and needed to drain the abilities of other witches to do anything magical.
When he turned back to the Queen, she was accepting the Sword of Soissons from a velvet pillow.
She touched a kneeling Valentina’s shoulder with the blade, as she had with the others.
Then she arranged Jacques, Abarsam, and Valentina into a line so the crowd could again cheer the heroes who planned to take on the necromancer who had kidnapped his baby sister.
He muttered a quick prayer to Saint Attilio that Rixende was alive and unharmed. It didn’t matter what it took; he had to save her.
Scanning the room, he realized the well-dressed man who had caught his eye was nowhere in sight, despite his earlier fascination with the spectacle. Come to think about it, Gallmau could have sworn he had seen him before.
“Which one would you take to your bed?” Any of Meri’s remaining irritation about her earlier tiff with Valentina had faded away. “The son of a Kushian aquamage, an aristocrat incensor, or a medica with a temper and a thing for ladles?”
“Sinan.” Gallmau realized too late why he had found the man so familiar, not to mention so attractive.
“I think that pretty Bone Lord put something in your poison I didn’t get with my dose.” Meri put her hands on her hips as she faced him. “Like a lust potion. You can’t be serious about wanting to fuck Sinan.”
The Prince of Shadows was here, somewhere, and they needed to stop him.
“I call upon any others here who have been asked by the Sorcier du Roi to join in this noble quest.” Queen Xiaolian’s voice rang out over the crowd, and Meri darted forward.
“That’s us.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Let’s go and show these witches a thing or two.”
“Sinan’s here.” Gallmau, despite his long stride, had to hurry to catch up to Meri and whisper in her ear. “I saw him earlier, but he was in disguise...”
Meri shook her head. “You think Sinan put on fancy clothes and strolled right into the Noviodunam, filled with sorcerers who want to burn him alive? If I didn’t know how much you can drink, I’d swear you’ve had too much cider.”
They pushed their way through the throng of people cheering the Queen and the champions, and Xiaolian spotted Gallmau. She gave him a firm nod to encourage him to come forward, but he still looked around, dread growing in his chest, even as Meri plucked at his sleeve to pull him toward the Queen.
“I’m here as a representative from the Councils of the Living and the Dead to represent the interests of Karakoncolos.” It was Sinan’s voice, and the same words the Bone Lord had told Meri when she held him down with two swords at his throat.
The buzz of conversation in the hall ended in a collective gasp of shock.
Sinan stepped out of the crowd to face Queen Xiaolian, and he didn’t look like a merchant tonight.
His shroud cloak hung from his shoulders, cursed sigils glowing purple over the dead white of the fabric.
Underneath his hood, his eyes were marked out in black and red face powder, giving him the appearance of a talking skull.
“You sent a message to the Blessed threatening us with war. Here is our answer.”
Most people in the room stood frozen with shock, but Gallmau whirled and ran for the Queen.
Meri, bless her soul, was already in front of Xiaolian, her blades out and ready.
She had sunk into her speed as soon as Sinan started talking.
Gallmau joined her and hissed a command at the two Garde Royale members who stood staring at the Bone Lord.
“Stand behind the Queen, now.” Gallmau made sure the useless soldiers scrambled to protect their rear flank and turned to watch Sinan walk up to them.
His movements were unhurried, even as Jacques summoned a swirling circle of fire that spun at his chest level, and every Shield in the room rushed forward.
Abarsam grabbed the incensor’s arm. “Call off the Shields. He’s under the same curse we are and is protected by it.”