Page 10 of The Court of Venus

“I’ll wait in the hall,” he said. “Tell me when it’s done.”

Shoulders visibly sagged with disappointment. One maid of honor stepped forward boldly. “We were playing cards. Join us for a hand?”

“Not tonight.” His gaze roamed across us, then snagged on my face like a knot. I knew I should flinch, but I held his gaze. Held it until he was the one to look away. His brows knit together. “Bess Hampton, aren’t you meant to be attending my guest?”

I nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I was.”

“Come.” We all curtseyed again, and then my arm was in his, and he’d tugged me into the hall. He leaned his head against the stone beside a flickering brazier. Running a hand across his face, he shook his head and laughed. “You almost fooled me.”

I cursed. “What gave me away?”

“The eyes again. The color is right, but she doesn’t look quite so interested in everything as you do.”

“Did you expect me to stay in my rooms?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I did. Or I thought you’d be lurking about as a cat as you used to.” A quick gesture to the door. “Now, at least, you see what I must endure.”

“How do you stand it?”

“At first, it made me sick. I’d come out here and heave my guts out from guilt. Even now, as I’m speaking to you, I’m trying to hold his face in place, to maintain the mask.” His eyes jumped to mine. “How did you stand it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your patron, Gregory. How could you bear to make a terrible man so exceedingly rich?”

I had no answer to that. Gregory had been kind enough. It was his wife who despised me—for the crime of her husband’s eyes always tracking me across the room. I told him whenever she was envious, that he should at least attempt to appease her, but I concealed most of my other Moonborn gifts. My shapeshifting, my ability to taper their anger. This was my small rebellion: Gregory and his wife never understood the depths of the magic I possessed.

“I hid myself,” I admitted.

Roland’s stare lingered, searching for something. Then he nodded, and when his jaw flexed and the light fled his eyes, I wondered what he could possibly be thinking about that would fill him with such sadness.

“The magic you cast on the king is affecting you,” I observed.

He stepped toward me. Harsh shadows carved him into a stranger. “Notice everything, don’t you?”

“Yes. How long does the magic last?”

“It might hold for days. Weeks, at most. If only he were a dulled jewel, I could make him shine forever, and it would take but an instant. But a living thing, or—” A hand flung out. “—whatever he is? An almost-dead thing? That requires much more effort.”

“And when you shoved Cecily before him, did you make her look more desirable too?”

He merely shrugged and leaned back against the stone, crossing one ankle over the other. “It isn’t so much her beauty as her temperament he likes. Gertrude and Eleanor were dull and serious. Cecily stirred his blood. Or so he told me when he said he wanted her. I think she reminded him of Alice Seton.”

“But you instructed her, surely?”

A click of his tongue. “You’re catching on rather quick. To the king, it’s love.” He rested a hand on his chest for emphasis. “An arrow pierced his heart.”

“But the arrow came from your bow.”

He nodded. “And if only I had your power, then perhaps I could tame his moods.”

It was not the first time I’d felt a stab of Roland’s jealousy. Our magic was similar in many ways. Desire and emotion were threaded together, knotted tight. But emotions were vast, while desire could be particular. I could sense the sadness within a child; Roland knew she longed for the toy she’d dropped in the river. I could see the rage boiling within the king; Roland only knew the moment he wished to strike. Even if he imbued the king with a desire to be calm, the body might resist. The king might struggle, his heart beating rapidly, thoughts still thrashing. But I could run a gentle hand across his mind and soothe him in an instant.

From inside Cecily’s bedchamber, there was sudden murmuring. Fabric shuffling. Roland glanced at the door, then back to me, lowering his voice to a bare whisper. “They’ve finished now. Go quickly. Your maid is returning from the dancing, and then there will be two Besses walking about.”

I hesitated, but he was right. As I lifted a torch from its sconce and began down the hall, he stopped me with a hand on my waist. “Be careful around your maid, Mouse. She’s a Guildford spy.”

I shrugged him off. “I know.”