Chapter 10
Isca
Perfume and linen scented the fortress chamber I’d been forced to occupy the entire day as they worked to transform me into a lady. A gleaming bronze mirror in one corner, polished to perfection, reflected my image with startling clarity. Up to that point, I’d only ever seen my image in water.
Looking at myself, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this the version of me Chancellor Maeron had been hoping to bring out all along?
The woman staring back at me didn’t sell herbs in the market from dawn to dusk. She didn’t laugh at her brother’s jokes or change her father’s bandages for months on end.
I looked like someone who belonged here. My back was ramrod straight, my long wavy blonde hair woven into a braid so smooth and tight it gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
The fabric they’d wrapped me in itched, a discomfort so deep it felt like the gown was trying to burrow under my skin and change who I was.
Even though it was finer than anything I owned, I missed the softness of my old, familiar clothes.
But that was all behind me now. I was being molded, reshaped to fit the tastes of their fantasy.
Even the seamstresses moved around me like I was furniture being reupholstered.
I stood on a low pedestal with my arms out while two women in black worked around me, pins clamped in their teeth, their fingers measuring, tucking, judging.
I felt completely out of place, a fish flopping helplessly on dry land.
Loose at the hips and legs for riding, the crimson dress I wore fell all the way to my ankles.
The stunning, deep-red color, likely achieved at mind-boggling expense, was a sight to behold.
A detachable white cloak covered it, trimmed in tablet-woven braid.
The trim and finely worked bronze shoulder brooches that held the cloak in place were its only ornamentation.
It was practical but proper for traveling with “dignity.”
Boots came next, their leather was stiff and newly oiled. My toes were only slightly pinched. Hopefully, I could avoid long walks until they broke in.
“She’s small for a saddle,” one of the women muttered, tying the leather belt at my hips as though I were a mare being readied for sale—which I supposed I was. “Hope they have a calm horse.”
“She’ll manage,” the other replied, tugging my sleeve straighter like reins. “Leave room at the waist. Everyone comes back from Darreth a bit fatter.”
I stifled a laugh.
Pasgen’s shadow looming impatiently in the hallway outside made suppressing it easy. He didn’t deserve to hear laughter. I didn’t know why he’d shown up, anyway.
Was he my minder? A witness for the chancellor to know that I was playing along? Or was he simply there to glare and further impress upon me the weight of their expectations?
“We’ll send another day dress wrapped in oilcloth and a cloak for the rain,” the taller woman said, stepping back to admire her final adjustments. It was the first thing she’d said directly to me all day that wasn’t an order.
Did that mean I needed different clothing in the evenings? Were they supplying that too? I didn’t even know what the correct questions were.
“Spare stockings. Needles. Darning wool,” she said, eyes lingering on me a fraction longer than necessary. The pity coming off her was a cloying thing. “We’ll have them all packaged up on the caravan for repairs.”
I nodded, though I made sure my spine remained perfectly rigid and looked down my nose at her, eyes narrowed. I didn’t want her pity, no matter how innocent she’d been in creating this situation.
As the seamstresses left the room, I looked back at my reflection in the mirror: a woman being packaged for delivery.
But I wasn’t cargo. I wasn’t livestock.
Damn them.
Fresh anger ignited within me.
I didn’t lower my chin or look away when Pasgen walked in behind me, shape reflected in the mirror. They wanted—no—they needed me. They needed what only I could do. Needed my magic and my womb. But I was more than those two things. I was a proud daughter, sister, aunt, and a powerful mage.
They had the power to dress me as a doll, send me anywhere, and call it an honor. I’d take what they would give, but I would choose how I found success. I would choose who I became.
To go against their plans, to give them precisely the opposite of their wishes, was my wildest dream. I was just one woman, wholly lacking in flashy magic, and they had knives poised to open my family’s throats. But I could find ways to slip poison into every drop of blood they took from me.
On the surface, I would be all smiles and soft obedience. I’d had decades of practice at it. But I wouldn’t make myself an easy victim in their game any longer. I would play it alongside them. And just like my magic, I would be the gentle breeze that swayed the game pieces.
I stepped down from the stool and flexed my arms. The dress was loose across my shoulders and grew more comfortable as I got used to the fresh cloth.
Before I could leave, Pasgen stopped me with a harsh clearing of his throat. “I need your pendant,” he said.
Of course, the first words he’d spoken to me after leering for hours was a demand.
As I untied the leather around my throat, he reached into his pocket to reveal a small unadorned box.
The clammy fingers on his other hand closed greedily around my proffered iron pendant, which vanished quickly into his robes.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
Against every instinct screaming at me to avoid anything this man wanted from me, I carried out the scribe’s orders.
I heard the tiny wooden box open, and then his hands were draping a delicate gold chain around my neck.
The pendant that hung on it was a matching gleaming gold with the shape of a heart stamped into it.
Grand Magus. They were publicly declaring me a grand magus of empathy. I felt my throat close around the shocked gasp that threatened to escape. Gods above and below.
But I knew what this was. The gold might be a beautiful, valuable piece of jewelry, but in truth, it was my collar. I wouldn’t thank him for that.
Still dressed in my new finery—and now wearing my new mark of status—I strode past Pasgen into the hallway, surreptitiously pushing a tiny wave of gut-wrenching revulsion in his direction. Poison. Exactly how I felt about him.
I’d never been as petty as I had been since walking into Maeron’s office. But Pasgen undoubtedly now knew about my ability and how his emotions would affect me. He’d made it very clear how he felt by taking every opportunity to torture me with his emotions.
The low groan he emitted proved I’d hit my mark. Music to my ears.
He’d think he’d eaten something bad. Given the magical atmosphere of the keep, I doubted he could detect the insignificant surge from me. Farther away still, I sent another tiny wave and was rewarded with the sound of feet shuffling toward the nearest privy.
I allowed myself a silent chuckle.
***
I grabbed the comb Papa had whittled for me, a ribbon for my hair, and the shawl Mama made for me last winter and shoved them into the tiny box I’d be carrying with me to Darreth.
The comforting scent of ash bread lingered in the air while I worked.
That soft, smoky smell of home imprinted itself on my memory, forever bound to saying goodbye to the only place I’d ever called home.
Mama’s hands were quick and efficient as she tightened the ties of my cape so it would fit comfortably over my travel dress.
The knots were perfect, but she kept fussing with them like she could tie her worry into something neat and manageable.
Her hands trembled against the fabric, and her breath came in short bursts.
She was choking on the same feelings I was.
“That okay?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” I lied. “It’s not the dress that’s on my mind.”
Her fingers stilled and she eyed the new gold pendant hanging around my neck.
“You don’t have to explain, Isca. I know well enough that more than what you’ve said is going on.
You’re old enough to keep your secrets. And I…
I also know you probably don’t have much of a choice.
They found out about your ability to read people, didn’t they? ”
“Yes,” I whispered, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, fighting to remain composed. “But they don’t know about you, Mama. I—”
“Hush! I don’t care if they know about me. I care about you.” We were quiet as she smoothed the fabric over my shoulders. “I know you’re doing this for us, Isca. For your brother most of all.”
The familiar thud of Papa’s crutch against the floor announced his arrival. When he appeared in the doorway, he merely nodded and looked me over again.
“We’re going to take a short stroll,” Mama said as she kissed my temple. “Now, go put your baby brother out of his misery. He has a present for you that’s been eating at him.”
I didn’t have to travel far to find him.
When there were nine of us living here, we’d barely been able to squeeze between the furniture without bumping into someone else.
Tegil sprawled in the chair by the hearth, pretending not to watch me lace up my boots.
His new shoes and trousers didn’t pinch him like the old ones.
I was gladder than ever for the purchase, thankful that this would help him.
His arms were crossed, jaw set in the stubborn way that said he wanted to say something but was still weighing how it would sound once it left his mouth.
“Just spit it out,” I said, finishing the last knot.
He reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out something small. He offered his closed fist. “It’s a bit messed up. I kept snapping the beak off.”
He opened his fingers to reveal a tiny, lopsided bird carved from a bit of light-colored wood. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.