Mage's End Game, page 22
The air hung heavy with a blend of smoke and relief as Sera and her companions surveyed the smouldering battlefield. The once-pristine cobbles of Charing Cross were now scarred with scorch marks and debris, evidence of the struggle that had taken place.
“Someone tell me where…that…came from.” King George pointed to the shadow behind Sera.
Somehow, she had forgotten that Ebonfyre still guarded her back.
“This is Ebonfyre, Your Majesty. They are guardian of the Fae realm. Queen Deryn sent them to assist your cause.” The dragon lowered its gleaming black head. Sera reached out and stroked their obsidian muzzle.
A range of emotions flowed across King George’s face before he could stop them. “Queen Deryn?”
“Yes,” Sera replied. “She did not wish any harm to come to Your Majesty, or to your son.”
The king started to say something, then changed his mind and coughed instead.
Sera ran her hand along Ebonfyre’s black scales as she addressed them. “Thank you. Your debt is paid, and you are free to return to your realm.”
The dragon huffed a warm breath over her hand, then leapt into the sky. In a few beats of massive wings, they disappeared into the clouds.
“We expect to see you at court tomorrow, Lady Winyard,” King George said as he turned his horse and left Charing Cross, his guards closing around him.
When the sound of the cavalcade faded, Lord Ormsby approached Sera. “I don’t like you.”
“I believe we established that some time ago,” Sera replied.
“It’s not because you’re a girl. I always thought Dewlap’s taint would make you like him. I never thought Rowan would prove to be the traitor among us.” He put his hands on his hips, which made him resemble an angry teapot. “It is forbidden to strip another mage of their magic unless directed by the Speaker of the Council and the king. But in this case, such permission is retroactively granted. You did the right thing, for once.”
Sera ran his comment back through her mind before she decided there was a rather well-hidden compliment in there. “Why don’t the others know about the Nereus?”
He huffed. “That is confidential information, known only to the Speaker and his second, if the man is trusted.”
“Which, fortunately, I am. I understood the horror Lord Rowan thought to unleash upon us.” Lord Pendlebury joined them. Lord Dench had climbed into a hackney and huddled in a corner with Lord Gresham propped up beside him.
“This is why we don’t allow female mages. So there cannot be a Nereus.” The speaker glared at Sera as if the entire affair were her fault.
Anger surged up her throat. “That is your justification for snuffing out lives? Women can be trusted to make our own decisions if we are informed of the consequences.”
Lord Ormsby crossed his arms. “And did that stop Lord Rowan from trying to make Lord Tomlin…” His voice trailed off, and he grimaced as though his breakfast might fight its way back up his throat.
Sera curled her hands into fists. “Women are blamed because men cannot control themselves. Perhaps all men should be extinguished, instead? That would equally solve the problem.”
Lord Pendlebury coughed, and Hugh squeezed her hand. At least Kitty looked as indignant as Sera felt.
The deep frown lines on Lord Ormsby’s face evened out a little. “Perhaps it is time for this council to consider adopting a policy similar to that of our counterparts in Europe. Women mages could live a scholarly life in quiet seclusion. You would, of course, be expected to set the example.”
Sera stared at Lord Ormsby, her hands curling into fists and sparks dancing over her knuckles. “No one will ever cage me again.”
The Speaker shifted and cleared his throat. “Well, yes, I think you have established your worth here today, Lady Winyard.”
Sera snorted and wondered if it was too late to call Ebonfyre back.
As if reading her thoughts, Kitty muttered, “You should have kept the dragon. We could have had a matriarchal society established by suppertime.”
“I’m starved. What say we leave someone else to clean up this place and go for a pint and a pie?” Elliot suggested.
Sera laughed and wrapped her arms around Hugh. “I think we’ve all earned the best meal Imp can provide.”
Twenty-Four
It seemed only fitting that they return to the Apothecary’s Poison to celebrate. Sera, as Nyx, was cheered and toasted by the patrons. After a meal that made her stomach swell and a sufficient quantity of ale, they adjourned to Kitty’s Mayfair mansion. Sera wanted to luxuriate in a large bath and a soft bed. Hugh tiptoed down the corridor to join her after everyone went to bed, as the staff had placed him in his own room some distance from the two young women. A situation they had to remedy.
The next morning, after Hugh had crept back to his room, the Napier staff prepared Sera to attend court. She was bathed again, primped and preened, and dressed in a cream silk sack-back gown, covered in embroidered leaves and tiny black velvet pansies.
Kitty and Hugh accompanied her. Elliot was still abed when they left, as Kitty kindly thought the footman deserved a day off.
When they walked the wide halls of the palace to the throne room, the very atmosphere of the palace had changed. Now it was charged with hope. The gloomy pall that hung over everyone when the king was secluded had lifted. The group stopped at the grand doors. Sera took Kitty’s and Hugh’s hands.
“We did this together, and I would not be standing here without both of you.” Then she kissed each of them, Kitty on the cheek, Hugh a quick kiss on the lips.
Then she let them go, folded her hands before her stomacher, and nodded to the guards. They flung the doors open on a packed crowd. Everyone had crammed into the audience chamber to see King George restored to them. People peeled away in front of her like waves parting, leaving a clear path for Sera and her companions to walk towards the red velvet–draped canopy.
The immense room stretched out before her, its walls adorned with life-sized portraits of previous monarchs. The high ceiling glittered with intricate golden patterns. Beneath her shoes, the floor had been polished until it gleamed and reflected the light of mage-crafted chandeliers. The soft fragrance of hothouse flowers perfumed the air, wafting from enormous arrangements on the sideboards.
When she reached the raised dais with its golden thrones, Sera curtsied gracefully, keeping her eyes downcast until her presence was acknowledged.
“Lady Winyard,” Queen Charlotte said warmly, her voice resonating throughout the room. As she stepped down from her throne, the rustle of her elaborate gown preceded her.
When Sera rose and met the queen’s gaze, she found the royal eyes full of gratitude. “Your Majesty,” Sera murmured.
The queen took her hand and embraced her. A wave of emotion crashed over Sera. She had doggedly navigated her own course since she turned eighteen and had done what she believed to be right. In the process, she had saved not only a king but a man deeply loved by his wife.
Letting her go, Queen Charlotte patted her cheek. “You have done all that was asked of you. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, Lady Winyard. You freed me from the grip of a curse that not one of my physicians or mages had detected.” Here, the king glared at Lord Ormsby and the old doctors clustered to one side.
The king rose from his throne and held out his hand. As Sera took the outstretched hand and kissed the jewelled signet ring, her senses tingled with unease. A trace of darkness lingered within him. A faint shadow left from years of the entropy stone’s poisonous effect, like a soot stain left in a disused chimney. Would it have any effect on the king’s mind in the future?
She didn’t know, so chose to keep silent. For now.
“It is my honour to serve, Your Majesty, and use the gift in my veins to benefit yourself and this country,” Sera replied, keeping her concerns for the future to herself.
“The Fates did something right when they bestowed such a gift upon one who has used it in our defence, even when it endangered herself.” Now Queen Charlotte glared at Lord Ormsby, who shuffled from foot to foot.
Sera basked in the warm regard and gratitude of the royal couple. But fresh worries sprouted in her mind. The darkness within King George may have been subdued for now, but it had not vanished entirely. One day, they might need to face the consequences of the entropy stone’s lingering influence.
On the more personal side, would the Speaker demand that she be sequestered in a nunnery to stop any other mage from trying to create a Nereus? Did her actions mean any female mages born in the future would live, or would the council redouble their efforts to snuff out every gifted woman?
A hush fell over the vast audience chamber as the royal couple returned to their thrones. King George kept hold of his queen’s hand. The love the two shared was obvious to all in their court. Sera waited, unsure what would happen next.
“Lady Winyard,” the king began, his voice firm yet laden with gratitude. “In recognition of your extraordinary talents and unwavering dedication to our kingdom, we have decided to create a new position within the royal court.” He paused for a moment, allowing his proclamation to echo through the hall. “You shall henceforth be known as the People’s Mage, tasked with using your magic to serve the needs of our subjects.”
Sera froze for a moment. The king had just endorsed Lord Ormsby’s practice of giving her the dirtiest jobs requested of the mages. Well, it could have been worse. They could have officially changed her title to the Duchess of Drains.
“You will, of course, be given the authority to call on other such magical assistance as you require to serve those citizens of this kingdom who can least afford to engage a mage,” Queen Charlotte added with a wink.
Ha! Which meant she could direct Lord Tomlin to clean the fat blockages in the East End if she wished. Which she would. She had not forgotten his support of Lord Rowan’s plan.
“You honour me, Sire.” Sera curtsied again. Nyx would support the common people, just as they had supported her in Charing Cross. No army could stand before them.
“As you navigate your own path, Lady Winyard, we know you will continue to uphold the values of justice and compassion that we prize, and which seem to be sadly lacking in the Mage Council,” Queen Charlotte said.
Sera bit back a smile as Lord Ormsby continued to squirm on the royal hook. She had always liked the queen, with her direct manner and the way she protected the rights of women. The queen’s words confirmed that Sera was free to live her life as she wanted. No one would ever cage her.
“Speaking of justice, there is another matter that must be addressed.” King George waved a hand, and from a side door, guards escorted Lord Rowan into the room.
A gasp went around the crowd, and a sharp, feminine cry drew Sera’s attention. She knew that voice. Somewhere behind the press of courtiers lurked Lady Abigail Crawley.
The old mage, who had once resembled a wise scholar, was gone, replaced by a feeble and sad figure. His once-proud demeanour was now slumped and shuffling. Red-rimmed eyes were wild as he cast about him. His long white beard appeared to have tangled with spiderwebs and dust, and he had lost the soft hat that usually covered his bald head.
“Mr Ernest Rowan.” King George stressed the new form of address. “You committed a heinous act of treason against the crown. You unleashed a foul curse upon your king, then plotted to steal our kingdom. For these acts, you are stripped of your magic and your title, and all your property is forfeit.” The king’s words rang with an air of finality.
A conflict arose within Sera. Satisfaction at seeing the old mage pay for his crimes warred with sympathy. Without his magic, he was a weak old man who seemed unable even to lift a book. What sort of life would he lead now? Perhaps he might find employment as a gardener. Sera recollected something Kitty once said—most old people liked to potter in gardens.
“Bring forth Lady Abigail Crawley,” commanded Queen Charlotte. Her voice echoed through the hall with an air of authority that sent a shiver down the most stoic of spines. The queen’s displeasure was a terrible thing to behold.
The crowd parted. People pulled back from the noblewoman as though standing too close to her might see them punished alongside her. Lady Abigail cast about her, looking for a friendly face. Finding none, she drew herself up and walked with a proud step towards the monarchs. She curtsied, but it was a small thing, and she rose immediately, without permission, as though she considered herself an equal.
“You have been complicit in your grandfather’s crimes,” Queen Charlotte began.
“I—I beg your mercy if you believe I had any part in his treachery,” Abigail protested.
The queen narrowed her gaze and continued in a cold tone. “We are well aware of the part you played. You poisoned our mage.”
Sera wondered which one the queen referred to—Abigail had handed over the poison that had taken Lord Branvale’s life and then poisoned Sera’s tea to help steal her magic.
Abigail glanced at Sera, and for a moment, pure hatred burned in her eyes. Then it was gone as she adopted a demure and helpless expression. “I was under his control, Your Majesty, and did not understand the gravity of his actions.”
Sera’s snort cut like a knife through the silence. She couldn’t help but scoff at the pathetic display. Abigail had been a willing participant in her grandfather’s schemes, not an ignorant ingénue. She thought to rule over the court as queen once her grandfather had England under his thumb.
Queen Charlotte rose and stared down at her former lady-in-waiting. “You expect us to believe you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game?”
“Please, Your Majesty, I swear it! I would never knowingly betray my country.” A tear trickled down Abigail’s cheek.
Sera thought it a fetching performance. But she had seen behind the mask. Abigail’s concern was only for herself and her status. She was a woman who had proven herself willing to aid and abet murder in order to become a duchess—and then a queen.
Queen Charlotte knew the nature of her ladies. She fixed her gaze on Abigail. “Lady Abigail Crawley, for your involvement in Mr Rowan’s treachery, you are hereby banished from court. You are dead to us from this day forth.”
Abigail’s eyes widened, but already Sera could see the calculation in them. Her parents were still wealthy. She would shortly be married to the heir of a duke, and she would be a duchess when his father died. She would create her own court.
But the queen wasn’t done yet. “Furthermore, any who support or associate with you shall also face ostracism from both our court and all good society.”
Even Sera winced at that pronouncement. What was a grand duchess if no one attended her soirees, balls, and garden parties?
The future Abigail imagined away from the court dissolved in front of her eyes. “Please, Your Majesty,” Lady Abigail whimpered, her voice barely audible. “I meant no harm…Sera, my friend, you know how I like a good jest.”
Her former friend turned towards her, expecting a reprieve or intervention on her behalf. But she would find none. She had made her choices. Now she had to live with the consequences.
There was no more discussion. The king turned to converse with one of his courtiers, and Abigail was simply…forgotten. As though she had been made invisible. She retreated, casting about wildly for anyone who might support her. Then she spotted her betrothed standing at the back with a cluster of young bucks. Abigail threw herself at him, seeking solace and protection. But instead of embracing her, the young man pushed her away with a look of disdain.
“Control yourself, madam. I do not know you,” he declared coldly, his words like shards of ice shattering any remaining hope for Abigail.
“You cannot abandon me. We are to be married in a few weeks.” She stretched out her hands towards him in a futile plea.
“I am to be a duke, madam. I will marry a woman worthy of being my duchess, who will be a pillar of our society and respected about court. Not one who despoiled herself with a footman and who betrayed our king and country.” Having said that, he turned his back on the woman he had once declared he loved, and he laughed with his friends.
Sera’s heart clenched as Abigail ran from the throne room. Her sobs were lost amid the rising conversation.
Queen Charlotte moved to her side and turned her back upon the court, her gaze fixed instead on the face of her beloved George. “In life, Lady Winyard, we must make the right decisions, even if they are difficult ones that cause us pain.”
With those haunting words lingering in the air, Sera curtsied to the royal couple and found Hugh and Kitty off to one side. “I have seen enough,” she murmured to Kitty.
Kitty linked arms with her. “It is done. Let us think of more pleasant topics, oh mighty People’s Mage.”
From court, they journeyed to Sera’s little house in Soho. Apparently, Elliot had pulled himself out of bed before noon, as it was he who opened the front door.
“They didn’t throw you in prison for being troublesome, then?” He almost sounded disappointed.
“Nor was I rewarded with wealth beyond our wildest dreams, so we will both have to keep working.” As she stepped over the threshold and inhaled the aroma of baking biscuits coming up the stairs from the kitchen, she breathed out a sigh.
She was home.
“Oh! Milady, you’re returned to us. We’ve been ever so worried, even though Miss Napier said everything would work out fine,” cried Vicky, the young maid.
Sera hugged her. “If Kitty says everything will work out fine, she means it.”
Rosie bustled up the stairs. “We are ever so pleased to have you back, milady.” The cook wiped her hands on her apron as she hurried into the foyer. “I’ve been cooking all morning to create a celebratory feast, if you are hungry?”
Before Sera could answer, Hugh’s stomach rumbled. She burst into laughter and took the hands of her dearest friends. “Come on. Rosie bakes the most divine cakes, and Elliot can make himself useful and pour tea.” She tugged them towards the stairs.
