By leaning forward more than propriety probably deemed acceptable, I also caught sight of the king’s sister and brother-in-law. Lord Clement was a barrel-chested man with light brown hair to his shoulders, jowls, and a thick neck. I’d imagined Lord Clement would somehow look more saintly than King Leofric. Surely, he must be a better person to want to exact so many fewer years from his servants than King Leofric did, yet I recognized in him the same haughtiness that was common among all the powerful nobles.
The only one in the wedding party who looked truly happy was the king’s sister, Lord Clement’s wife. Princess Beatrice was perhaps in her thirties, bright-eyed, pretty, and plump with pregnancy. She smiled as she spoke with her husband, clearly pleased that her brother had remarried. A governess carried two-year-old Princess Alfreda. The child was clutching thewoman as though afraid one of the bystanders would reach out and snatch her.
I shouldn’t have felt sorry for the child. She would grow up to be as conceited and greedy as the rest of the nobility. And yet how could I not pity her? Princess Alfreda had already lost her mother and was about to lose her father as well.
The king’s wizards followed the royal family. As Ronan neared my row, his head turned in my direction. I averted my gaze so he wouldn’t catch me staring, but not quickly enough. For a passing moment, his eyes locked onto mine. In the future, I would have to remember not to watch him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I had any interest in him.
The more worthy nobles in the front of the cathedral filed out next. We in the back waited for them to parade by us again—and they strolled out slowly, enjoying their importance.
I knew bringing the carriages to the cathedral and loading them with passengers took time, but I would’ve much rather waited out in the sunshine. To my side, the grave of a baronet and the carved effigies of those mourning him seemed to be edging closer to me, whispering that after tonight, I’d join them in the underworld.
Five wizards. All powerful. Perhaps the most powerful in the land. True, I’d inherited Ronan’s power and it was considerable. I knew numerous spells, but the other wizards had practiced so much more than I.
Finally, the wedding guests consigned in the back rows of the cathedral had our turn to leave. We shuffled out with far less aplomb as no one remained to view our exit.
When we at last reached the sunlight, Lady Edith paused at the top of the steps, craning her neck left and right. “Do you see our carriage?”
“No.” All the ones waiting in front of the cathedral were finer than ours, with matching horses. Apparently, having identicalcolored horses to pull one’s carriage was expected in noble circles. The spell that was filed away in my mind for changing a horse’s color suddenly made sense.
I scanned the grounds, searching for Gwenyth or Joanne among the crowds of servants milling near the road. No sign of them. They wouldn’t have come up here to fetch us, would they?
My attention was drawn to the figure of a man a few feet away. For a moment I didn’t recognize him, out of place as he was and dressed in formal green robes. His dark hair, mustache, and beard had been trimmed. His hooked nose looked a little less red, and his bushy eyebrows were not quite as thick. But the man was definitely Mage Wolfson.
My feet froze in shock, caught between fear and indignation. His presence here wasn’t unexpected and yet all the same felt like an affront.
My sudden halting drew both Lady Edith’s notice and the wizard’s. His eyes traveled over me and flew open in astonishment. I should’ve felt some satisfaction in that. The last he’d seen me, I was a servant with a scarred face. Powerless. Damaged. Sold. Now I was noble and beautiful.
This man who stood here calmly on the cathedral steps had murdered innocent villagers and had nearly murdered me. I expected him to slink away, head averted to hide his shame. But no. He sauntered over to us, his gaze bouncing between Lady Edith and me in curiosity.
Lady Edith smiled at him politely, which was more than he deserved. I wanted to slap him.
He bowed in Lady Edith’s direction, practically flowing with courtly charm. “Have we had the pleasure of meeting, my lady?”
“I don’t believe we have,” Lady Edith replied demurely. “I’m Lady Edith of Paxworth and this is my niece, Marcella.”
He turned to me, still gracious. “Yes, we’ve met before. One does not easily forget such beauty.”
“I suppose not,” I said, “since you did your best to ruin it.” To my credit, my voice didn’t tremble at all. “Lady Edith, this is Mage Wolfson. He nearly killed me.”
She put her hand to her chest, and her lips drew together in distaste. “Oh, dear.” My real mother would have lunged at him and attempted to claw his eyes out, so perhaps I should’ve been glad for Lady Edith’s limited maternal feelings.
Mage Wolfson’s mouth curled, almost sneering until he pressed them into a controlled line again. “You must be mistaken. I’d never lift a finger against a highborn woman. You are a highborn woman, are you not?”
A not-so-subtle threat that if I publicly criticized him, if I embarrassed him at court, he would expose me as his former servant. At another time, I would have laughed at his attempt to intimidate me with my past. Almost feeding one of your servants to a beast seemed a much worse crime than being that servant.
But I couldn’t afford to laugh now. A young woman at court who was presumably searching for a husband would be desperate to conceal her lowborn status. If I scoffed at Wolfson now, if I crossed him, I’d draw unwanted attention to myself. After the king’s death, I didn’t want anyone wondering if my lowborn beginnings had made me a candidate for the renegades.
Lady Edith drew herself up with the indignation that the nobility achieved so effortlessly. “Marcella is my niece. Are you implying otherwise?”
“Of course not.” Mage Wolfson shot me a triumphant look. He knew my silence now meant I would hold my tongue.
He glanced toward the road and gave us a curt bow. “My carriage is ready. I must take my leave of you.” He spun, sweeping his robes around him in an unnecessary flourish, and marched down the stairs.
Abominable man.
I watched him go, hands clenched at my side, and resolved to find out the location of his quarters. If I had any energy left after taking the other wizards’ marks, I’d take his as well.
And for the first time, I looked forward to my task tonight.