Cold Magic (Spiritwalker 1)

She flushed. “Yes, I got to see Amadou every day, and speak with him familiarly, every day. So I bided here quite peacefully and even eagerly as the weeks passed, knowing there was a separate watch posted by the headmaster’s loyal dog on our house to make sure Callie was not disturbed. To keep an eye for your return. And then”—she trembled—“and then he kissed me.”

o;Bee!”

“But first he made me describe the ceremony to him, the one we witnessed, when the jelly was brought in.”

“It’s djeli,” I said. Then: “But you were sent upstairs. You didn’t witness it.”

“I peeked! After I described it, he told me that the law allows the head of the house to dispose of any minor under his rule at his pleasure, which means Uncle had a perfect right to marry you off against your will while you were still underage. Worse, a marriage chained by magic cannot be severed under any circumstances except by the death of one of the people involved.” She caught my wrist in a bruising grasp. “They tried to kill you, didn’t they, Cat? Didn’t they?”

My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Yes.”

“But you escaped those hateful mages! You escaped, Cat, and you came back. I knew it was what you would do.”

She was flushed and magnificent, refulgent with indignation and pride. As if the sorcery of beauty had called, the door opened and Amadou Barry, Roman legate, stepped into the chamber. Seeing her, he halted as if he had slammed into stone. The chamber could have erupted into a blazing storm of fiery flying pigs, and he would have had eyes for only Beatrice.

“You are not wanted,” she said imperiously, with a flick of her hand.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and went out. The door closed with a snap behind him.

“Well, there’s a change of heart,” I said, reflecting that Andevai would have argued instead of retreating. “Once, you did little else but moon over his handsome eyes and pleasing manners.”

“I do not see him. I do not recognize him.”

“You’re so flushed I think I am going to have to fan myself. What happened?”

“She loves him, she loves him,” said Rory in exactly the tone thirteen-year-old Hanan would use to tease her older sister.

She crossed her arms and glowered at him. “Who do you think would win, dear cousin, if it came down to battle between you and me?”

He laughed without stirring in the least, entirely unaffected by a stare that would have obliterated any other man. “You’re delectable when you’re angry. I could just eat you up.”

“You could just try,” she retorted. “You remind me of that little beast Astraea, unrepentantly spoiled.”

“And you remind me of my younger sister—not Cat, but the other one—the one who is tiresome and self-absorbed and who never shuts up, yowling day and night for attention.”

I broke in before the duel got ugly. “Bee, he’s not joking. He could eat you up. Now tell me what else the headmaster said.”

“He told me that by no means should I return home. That Four Moons House would likely come after me. He sent his dog—”

“His dog?” asked Rory, licking his lips.

“His assistant, the albino from the east,” she said impatiently. “Anyway, the dog went scouting and came back to report that soldiers wearing the livery of Four Moons House had stationed themselves outside our house. So the headmaster offered to protect me. You can imagine my surprise when he summoned Amadou Barry. Who is no student. He’s an agent working for Rome.”

“He’s a legate.”

“Yes, that’s how the headmaster addressed him.” Her lips quirked up in an ironic, even sarcastic, smile. “And because I am very clever, I discovered that Legate Amadou Barry is the one who brought that book to the academy.”

“Lies the Romans Told? Why would a Roman legate possess that book?” But I recalled Shiffa’s words. “Unless it was a codebook. Written by a Barahal. You don’t think—?”

“That he came to the academy to ingratiate himself with Barahal girls? Whose parents might know something of it?” She fluttered her lashes, all honey, and then smiled a cruel smile. “I told them Papa burned it.”

“How did you come here?”

“I had little choice. The headmaster kindly informed me that not even a mage House will invade the residence of a family connected to the nobility of Rome. Yet you may suppose that however safe I am here, however well I have been treated, I am but a pretty bird in a pretty cage. I endured it because I knew I had to stay out of the hands of the mage House until you returned.”

I looked at her narrowly. “That can’t be the only reason.”

She flushed. “Yes, I got to see Amadou every day, and speak with him familiarly, every day. So I bided here quite peacefully and even eagerly as the weeks passed, knowing there was a separate watch posted by the headmaster’s loyal dog on our house to make sure Callie was not disturbed. To keep an eye for your return. And then”—she trembled—“and then he kissed me.”