CHAPTER 16
King Leofric and Queen Marita presided at dinner, an elaborate meal with seven courses, including cooked stuffed piglets, cranes, and peacocks redressed in their feathers. We were served cakes of cheese, sugared fruits, and marzipan shaped like Valistowe castle. I ate more than a lady ought. It might be my last meal, and besides, propriety aside, I had a hard night’s work ahead of me and needed all the strength I could get.
Every nobleman present made a toast to the couple, each trying to outdo the rest in flowery speech and sycophantary. It went on and on. Never had anyone’s virtues been so sure or extolled.
No wonder the royals all became arrogant and insufferable. They were fed a constant diet of flattery.
Lord Clement and Princess Beatrice sat next to the newlyweds on the dais. I couldn’t help but study them, looking for some indication they would be good leaders. Lord Clement wore a jeweled collar filled with gems on his green silk robes. His matching shoes had such long points they might have been used for daggers. He ate heartily and drank freely.
Princess Beatrice talked with her new sister-in-law in an open, friendly manner. When Queen Marita spoke to King Leofric, she did so shyly. She hardly seemed the same woman who’d been ordering about her servants yesterday.
As a servant, I’d studied people to judge their temper, ill or otherwise, by every detail of their bodies. The incline of their head, the tapping of their foot, the quickness of their speech.
Lord Clement smiled and laughed but his eyes were watchful, every so often glancing around at the crowd. I wondered what he was watching for. Trouble? Renegades?
I only took a few sips of the wine the serving girls freely supplied the guests. Those with secrets couldn’t afford loose tongues, and I didn’t want slow reactions tonight. The wizards, from what I could observe, weren’t taking similar precautions. They toasted and drank to the royal couple repeatedly.
The Godfreys said nothing about the queen’s wedding dress, but Lady Edith brought it up enough times to ensure they didn’t forget we had the same taste in gowns as the new queen. Bernard made an occasional stumbling comment to draw me into conversation, and Lord Percy heaped compliments on Agnes. He flirted with her excessively—I was guessing he’d learned the extent of her fortune and the lack of mine—but when no one else looked, he sent me regretful smiles. Shameless of him, really.
After the meal was over and we’d had time to refresh ourselves from the feasting, we moved to the great hall for dancing. Bernard Godfrey asked for my hand during the first dance, but after that, his mother whisked him away. She’d found other, more powerful nobles with daughters in need of the Godfrey fortune. I didn’t mind. Plenty of men—even ones from the more elite families—were pleased to make my acquaintance and lead me around the floor. I was apparently pretty enough to dance with, even if I wasn’t wealthy enough to marry.
Ronan and several other wizards roamed the periphery of the hall, drinking and talking to those who were either resting from dancing, had come only to enjoy the music or—such as in the Godfreys’ case—had come to ensure their children socialized with the right sort.
I hadn’t expected Ronan to dance. Most wizards thought themselves too dignified for twirling about to the music. However, Floris Somerton and a few others persuaded him to take the floor on occasion. He danced well. Of course, he did. He’d not only been bestowed with intelligence, wit, and magic but grace as well.
His gaze frequently strayed to me, and he made no attempt to look away when I caught him staring. He always seemed cross and disapproving while he watched me. His ill will only made me smile more at my partners. Let Ronan see that other men considered me worthy of their attention. I wished all sorts of jealousies upon him. In reality, he was probably only scowling at the proof that men from powerful families were so easily being duped by a lowborn woman.
Mage Redboot, the wizard who’d checked our carriage, sidled up to me and enquired how I was enjoying my stay at court. I answered him politely and was glad when Sir Percy noticed my unease and asked me to dance.
After that dance, Mage Sciatheric—the other wizard Lord Percy had warned me about—sought me out. He held two glasses of wine and handed me one. “My lady looks parched.” His teeth barely appeared through his dark, heavy beard in the form of a smile. “The women of the court must suffer no deprivations while Mage Sciatheric can prevent it.”
I accepted the glass. What else could I do? “Thank you for your kindness, sir.” I didn’t want to take even one sip of the wine. A wizard could put all sorts of spells into a drink. If I kept busy talking, I wouldn’t have to drink. My eyes went to apendant around his neck, the diamond-studded silver crescent moon. “What a lovely pendant.” I blinked at it as though deeply impressed. “Is it magic?”
“It is.” He waggled his thick eyebrows. “It makes me irresistible to women. Is it working?”
I laughed politely. “I’m sure you need no spell for that.” Love spells were unreliable at best and never strong enough to have much effect.
He took a sip of his wine, flashing rings on nearly every finger. “You’re new to court?”
“Yes, I’m Lady Edith Thornton’s niece.”
“Yet you know some of us already,” he said as if we were sharing an inside secret.
Did he mean Mage Wolfson? Had the man said something about me that was making its rounds? I didn’t know whether to agree or protest. I simply stared back at the wizard, my mouth half-open.
Mage Sciatheric gestured sideways with a tilt of his head. “You must know young Warison. I’ve seen the two of you exchanging glances throughout the evening.”
Ronan. He was talking about Ronan. And yet I still was unsure how to answer. Was he fishing for information? “We’ve met,” I allowed.
“Have you only met?” Mage Sciatheric asked, amused. “Young Warison gives no heed to the ladies at court, but you’ve caught his eye easily enough. And lo,” he said, still amused, “the man in question approaches. I wonder whether he wants to talk to me, his colleague, or to you, a near stranger?”
Sure enough, Ronan was striding up to us. He nodded stiffly at Mage Sciatheric and held his hand out to me. “Lady Marcella, I believe I promised you a dance. Will you oblige me with the next one?”
No such conversation had happened, but I murmured, “Of course,” and handed my glass back to Mage Sciatheric. “Thank you again for your thoughtfulness.”
“Interesting,” was all he said before Ronan led me away.
As we walked toward the other couples, Ronan leaned close to my ear. “I would stay away from that wizard.”