I said nothing, but sipped at my tea. Where was this going?
“A success, I think.” She stirred her tea again, unnecessarily, striking a pleasant chiming note against the china. And then: “Sawl Morin has offered for you,” she said, with no change to her usual low, perfectly modulated tone.
“Offered what?” I said absently, thinking about Mother and the book. There had to be a way I could leave here with Mieka without Milady knowing.
“Marriage.”
I froze.
“Ban Morin?” I repeated faintly.
“A great honor,” said Milady. “He is second in rank only to the king himself.”
She took another sip of tea.
I wasn’t stupid. I was being sold. What had the Book Man said about magic practitioners and marriage?Many nobles seekout magic-skilled partners in an attempt to strengthen their wealth and position at court, and the marriage bond is an excellent way to bind that power to you forever.
“But I don’t want to get married,” I said. “I’ve only been here for two days. We’re meant to be looking for Mother.”
“Of course, of course,” she said. “But there is plenty of time for that. And you can search for her just as well once you are married to Ban Morin—better, in fact. Yes, I think this is really a marvelous turn of events.”
“I won’t do it,” I said.
She looked up from her tea.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I won’t do it,” I repeated. I stood. “You can’t make me do it.”
“Makeyou do it?” she said, raising a delicate eyebrow. “My dear, I am not a barbarian. I would never dream of making you enter a marriage against your will. Although you do disappoint me.”
I let out a long breath.
“There was one thing,” said Milady. “On that second passage.”
My throat convulsed, suddenly too dry to swallow. “Yes, Milady?”
“You missed three words on the fifth line,” said Milady.
I scanned my memory. It was unusual for me to miss words, but it could happen sometimes if I was very tired or overwrought.
“I’m sorry, Milady,” I said weakly.
Milady sighed. “It pains me to do so, especially as overall you did quite well, but if I fail to discipline you for your mistakes, you might grow complacent. It is in your best interests. I hope you will come to see that.”
She gestured for me to stand before the fire, where a book was again open on the porcelain lectern.
“Hands,” said Milady.
“I don’t have the gloves,” I said.
“For this, we do not need them.”
My throat thudded with my heartbeat as I extended myfingers. I rested them on the open book, trying to control their trembling, but they shook so violently that the lectern rattled beneath them. Milady, face impassive, laid her own fingers over mine to still them and started to read from the book. When she had finished the passage, she tapped one finger against her perfect lips, thinking.
“Hmm. Just two this time, I think. After all, it was a small error.”
“Two what?” I asked.
