“What sound advice as it can be applied to all mages.”
Ronan chuckled at the barb. “Perhaps, but that one especially.” His eyes went to mine with an intensity, a warning. “He has a habit of gathering information about people and threatening to reveal it unless they do as he asks. You can guess what he asks of beautiful young women. I’d hate to see you in that situation.”
Ah. A blackmailer. A fine servant for a king. “And what information do you think I want hidden badly enough I might compromise myself for its sake?” A foolish question. The answer was evident and the fact I’d asked simply showed I wasn’t as concerned with finding a husband as I was supposed to be.
Ronan shrugged. “I’d assumed your past wasn’t well known.”
“It isn’t. But I wouldn’t compromise myself with Mage Sciatheric for its sake.” I paused and smiled. “A blackmailer must be more attractive than that to tempt me to commit sin. I do have my standards.”
Ronan laughed and some of the tension drained from him. “Well, I’m glad it’s only the handsome scoundrels I have to protect you from.”
Protect me? He must be using the term loosely. He meant to warn me, nothing more. I didn’t want him to think of himself as my protector when I was doing quite the opposite of protecting him.
We’d taken our place at the end of the line of couples and so said little more. I knew the dances of court and had practiced them many times, yet standing so close to Ronan, I had a hardtime remembering where my feet should be. His arms, when on me, were strong, and I had a habit of focusing on them and forgetting all else. He smelled of cinnamon. He must’ve used the spice in some incense for a spell or perhaps spilled some on his robe during dinner.
When the dance finished, he returned me to a spot on the side of the ballroom, quite far from Mage Sciatheric. I regretted Ronan’s parting. And despite knowing that Mage Sciatheric had taken note of my interest in Ronan, I still found my eyes wandering to him.
Finally, the festivities ended and the guests retired to their rooms for the night. Gwenyth was able to nap, but I could barely sit still as I waited for both guests and wizards to go to sleep so that the hallways would be clear.
After a couple of hours, I changed into one of Gwenyth’s simple dresses—it was easier to maneuver in and less expensive should I have to burn the thing to get rid of any incriminating stains. I put on my enchanted boots, slipped the egg that held the fireflies into my pocket, and strapped a knapsack of supplies onto my back. With an uttered incantation, I vanished.
I eased from the room into the quiet of the castle hall. A servant boy was asleep on a mat down the passageway, awaiting any requests from nobles. He didn’t stir as I went by. I glided silently through the hallway and down to the first floor to retrieve the heraldry shield to use as a protection against snake bites.
One would think that my many criminal expeditions into various castles would make me immune to nerves, but my stomach clenched with worry. A plot to kill the king was so much worse than stealing someone’s jewels.
Once I had the shield, I said an incantation to attach the leather strap to the back. With it in hand, I made my way backup the steps and past the guards who stood at attention on the fourth floor.
Which of the wizards’ rooms should I break into first? I didn’t know which chamber was Ronan’s and yet I did. His was the one with the serpent whose concave face created the illusion that the snake’s eyes followed anyone who looked at it. He’d designed the thing to show he was cleverer than the other wizards. I would take his mark last. That way if my attempts failed and one of the other wizards killed me, Ronan would retain his mark. I would grant him that favor for all he’d done for me.
I padded down the hallway with three rooms, choosing the door closest to the hallway first. If things went badly, it would be the easiest one to escape from. I stood in front of the brass snake for far too long, mentally repeating the reasons why my actions were necessary. Servants deserved more freedom. The renegade leaders were certain Lord Clement would give it to them.
With the shield and dagger poised in hand, I touched my elbow to the door handle. Before I could blink, metal vanished and a large tan snake appeared in front of me.
The viper reared up, hissing menacingly. Even without seeing me, it knew where I stood. It lunged forward and would’ve bitten my thigh had it not been for the shield. As the snake pulled back to strike from a different angle, I slashed my dagger at his head.
Even lengthened, the blade was too short. It whistled by the creature without any damage. The serpent lunged again, this time sinking his fangs into the falconer’s glove. I’d been right to strengthen the leather. My skin wasn’t even grazed. Better yet, the snake’s fangs stuck so firmly into the glove that the serpent couldn’t move away fast enough to avoid my blade.
I sliced off its head. The body fell to the floor where it writhed as though struggling for breath. I’d always been squeamish whenit came to killing things. Unlike most of the kitchen servants in Docendum, I’d never broken a chicken’s neck. I was excused from plucking their feathers after I threw up on one. Even watching others do the chore made my insides lurch.
Somehow, I’d imagined killing the snakes would be akin to slaying dragons, something that would make me feel like a knight. Not so. This act was plucking chickens all over again. Gagging, I used the tip of my blade to pry the snake’s head off my glove. In my haste, the thing flew across the hallway and smacked the tapestry on the adjacent wall. Somewhere in its flight, the head returned to its metal form, and the noise was like a rock pelting into the fabric.
I waited, breath held. The wall was part of the king’s chambers. Had he heard the noise? Would he call someone to investigate?
No sound indicated that the king’s door had opened. Either he was asleep, far away, or busy with his new bride.
I pushed the snake’s body against the door, hoping that, should a guard stroll by, it would be less noticeably decapitated there. With quick uttered words, my horse charm changed into a key. I pulled my knitting needle from my pocket and carefully opened the door. It let out a low creak of complaint.
A whiff of stale incense drifted from the room. No noise. I braced for a sign of some dangerous enchanted beast about to charge. Nothing was there.
I stepped inside. I had other magic fireflies besides the ones in the signal egg. Some were loose in my pocket, little bits of metal, charmed for the purpose of giving light in a dark space. That way if the wizard awoke and saw a glow in the room, he would fling spells in the firefly’s direction instead of mine. The bug, however, was unnecessary. An unnatural purple flame churned in the fireplace, heating and lighting the room sufficiently that I could see an ornately carved canopy bed.
Black curtains were drawn around it, hiding its occupant. My wand’s stunning spell would need to hit skin in order to work, and I was wary of crossing the room to move that curtain. Another protective spell might be nearby.
It was then I noticed an iron statue of the dog sitting by the wall not two feet away. It was a large thing, a mastiff of sorts. No doubt, it would transform the instant I passed it.
So like a wizard. Keeping an actual dog in the room wouldn’t have been hard, and a living dog would’ve barked as soon as I opened the door. But the wizard couldn’t be bothered by an animal that required daily attention. Better to keep an iron statue instead.
Magic was needed to defeat the dog, and that would tax some of my strength. Still, I didn’t see another way. Even if I managed to kill the animal quickly, its barking would alert both the wizard and the guards.