The thought rubbed uncomfortably at his mind, but it made no difference to his guilt. Whether or not the incidents were truly unrelated, he shouldn’t have gone along with Elowen’s plan when she clearly wasn’t supposed to leave the capital.
Her face flashed before his sight, blue eyes wide and terrified but posture determined as her hair tangled around her neck and her horse plunged wildly on the edge of a dangerous torrent.
Theo strode beside Paulson, trying to clear his thoughts as curtly as he cleared his throat.
“What can you tell me about the breach at the dam?” he asked. “What did you sense, magically speaking? Something was off, am I right?”
“You are, Your Highness,” Paulson acknowledged. “I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling at all. The magic was acting strangely.”
“How so?”
“The water that burst from the dam generated a huge amount of movement.” Paulson paused, then added dryly, “As we all saw. I should have felt a corresponding torrent of Dust.”
“You didn’t feel any Dust stirring up?” Theo demanded.
Paulson shook his head. “No, I felt magic being released. It was just nowhere near the volume I would have expected from such a dramatic movement. The Dust should have been all tangled up with the water, weaving through every current, but it felt like no more than a steady rain. That’s barely a fraction of what such a violent movement should have caused.” He bowed his head. “That’s why I was unable to use magic to assist in the crisis with Her Highness, for which I’m deeply sorry.”
Theo waved him off. “You have no need to apologize, Paulson, it wasn’t you who endangered Princess Elowen.”
Irritation spiked through him as he remembered Lord Bertrand’s heavy-handed and foolish behavior. It had been clear to him from the outset that Elowen had an excellent seat on her horse, and he’d seen that she was handling the mare’s panic skillfully. He had no doubt that if not for the viscount’s interference, she would have been able to get herself and her horse to safety without assistance. If the idea hadn’t been absurd, he would have suspected Lord Bertrand of spooking her horse on purpose to give himself an excuse to rescue her.
But he was becoming distracted from the point.
“Do you think someone else harnessed the magic?” he asked. “Perhaps more than one person? There were plenty of onlookers.”
“I don’t think so, Your Highness,” Paulson replied. “No individual would be capable of taking hold of that volume of magic at once, let alone wrestling it into an enchantment. And doing so in a group would require planning and coordination, which I think unlikely in this instance. And even if I’m wrong,and some people did harness the magic, that shouldn’t have prevented me from sensing it. The opposite, in fact. I would have sensed it being released by the movement of the water, and then also sensed the second release when it was manipulated into an enchantment.”
“Yes, of course.” Theo ran a hand absently along his jaw.
They said no more, Paulson falling respectfully behind as Theo increased his pace. It would be the height of rudeness to be late for the breakfast that would formally mark the beginning of the betrothal celebrations.
The impending ceremony didn’t occupy his mind as he walked, however. He was too troubled by the previous day’s events.
His thoughts flew to the servant Elowen had mentioned. Simeon. Elowen had said something about him having considerable skill in magic craft. And apparently he’d been present when the dam burst. Maybe he’d felt something Paulson hadn’t. It would be worth finding out. He was starting to suspect that King Ronan was keeping some information from him, and he wanted to know what Siqual was getting itself into with this alliance. It might prove challenging, however, to question a servant of Lord Bertrand’s family without creating even more ill will than already existed.
Thoughts of Lord Bertrand sent Theo’s mind back to the viscount’s pathetic and humiliating display after the flood. He’d been trying not to dwell on it—he knew he shouldn’t give the viscount what he wanted by letting his words discomfit him—but it was hard to banish the bitter taste on his tongue whenever he thought about it. The fact that he didn’t live up to Elowen’s ideals for her husband was simply an unfortunate reality of impersonal, political marriages. The fact that she’d apparently spent her youth confiding in Lord Bertrand as to what she wanted in a man was harder to swallow, for some reason. Wasthe viscount’s overconfident, smug manner some attempt to imitate one of her daydreams? It did her imagination no credit, if so.
If she hoped he would play the role of lovelorn poet, or wayward rogue ready to be reformed by her ministrations, she would be disappointed.
Xavier would probably be a more acceptable suitor to her. The thought flashed across Theo’s mind, surprising him with the sharpness of the pain it left in its wake.
He banished the topic from his mind as he strode into the large, formal dining hall. Everyone else around him might behave foolishly if they chose. He knew his duty. He was there to complete a marriage alliance for the benefit of his kingdom, and he would do so while upholding Siqual’s dignity.
The commencement breakfast wasn’t being held in the dining hall he’d previously eaten in. This new room was three times the size, and it appeared that the whole court had gathered for the affair. Checking just through the doorway, Theo noticed a series of wooden cranks lining one wall, each attached to a mill-like wheel. Most of them were being operated by servants, and as Theo watched, he saw that as the servants turned the cranks, what appeared to be wooden balls were falling in a constantly cycling cascade within each wheel. There was no mistaking the look of intense focus on the servants’ faces. They were manipulating magic.
Theo glanced back, to where Paulson had entered behind him.
“Do you think the purpose of those mills is simply to produce Dust?” he asked his guard quietly.
Paulson nodded, his gaze fascinated as he took in the line of miniature mills. “Definitely, Your Highness. I can sense the manipulated magic.”
The magic wasn’t visible, of course, but Theo’s eyes followed an imaginary stream toward the tables, noting the sparkling silverware and the steam rising from uncovered platters of food.
“I see they’ve lined the wheels with wool on the inside to muffle the sound,” Paulson commented. “It would also absorb some of the Dust, so they’d produce more magic without it, but the noise would likely be too great an inconvenience.” He gave his head a small shake. “It’s a shame magic can’t be stored for later use. Think how convenient it would be. The servants could prepare magic in the servants’ hall overnight and have it ready to go in the morning.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Theo agreed absently, scanning the room for a sign of Elowen. She wasn’t present. “Although if we had that capacity, menial tasks wouldn’t be its most likely use. The potential power that could be accumulated that way would require careful regulation to make sure it didn’t become a dangerous weapon in the hands of the unscrupulous. What do you think they’re using this magic for?”
“It seems to be multiple things, Your Highness. I notice that it’s warm in here, but there are no fires. Also, there seems to be a light layer of magic sweeping constantly over the food, the way someone might fan away flies. And I sense some moving through the guests. Possibly some kind of security check. My captain will be very interested in an account, for use in training us craftsmen-guards.”
