And yet how strange: that one is this one’s servant, the shadow that moves at the behest of the sun . . .
She had no sense, during those golden minutes, that Luthrian was showing off for the other guests, or that he was merely fulfilling a duty. He was dancing with her because he wished it, and she danced with him for the selfsame reason. They could have been any young man and his lady, save that he was the most handsome man in Lascanne, while she . . . Well, Alice teased her for being plain, but in that moment she was the most beautiful woman in the room, and she knew that the others all saw it too. While the King laid hands on her, his divine magic cloaked her and she was a princess.
All too soon, the waltz’s measures drew to a close, and she located herself in the ballroom once more, among the dancers and the guests, the musicians and the frescos on the ceiling. But still the King held on to her, and his smile almost blinded her.
‘Stay by me, my lady. I have a task to attend to.’
She nodded dumbly. The crowd of guests had formed itself into a loose circle about them, expectantly. Emily wondered what was to happen next.
‘My lords and ladies, loyal subjects all,’ the King announced. ‘I have chosen this delightful gathering of Lord and Lady Deerling to confer upon certain soldiers of my cause a signal honour and a grave responsibility. I call upon you, each and every one, to bear witness to what I ordain here, and the charge I place on them.’
Emily saw men draw themselves up straight, soldiers looking serious and loosing their holds on their wives or their newfound partners so that they could pay attention.
‘Where are your charges, Barlocque?’ enquired the King and, on cue, the elderly wizard stepped forward with his apprentices in tow. Scavian was at the end of their line, his jaw clenched tight to disguise his nervousness. At Barlocque’s signal all six of them made a low obeisance to the King, then knelt before him. Scavian’s face was gripped with such intense emotion as he gazed up at his monarch: pride, fear, resolution. There would be no going back from this step, for any of them. They would arise something more than human.
‘You are each of you born into a noble house,’ the King addressed them seriously. ‘Your fathers and their fathers have served the royal line faithfully and well, and it pleases us to see you follow them on that path. Your masters have vouched for you, despite your youth, and in this time of war we think it right that you should be made ready to serve your country and your king. Prepare yourselves.’
‘What are they doing?’ Alice had squirmed her way through the crowd and was now whispering in her sister’s ear. Emily gestured her to silence.
Along with his peers, Scavian was unbuttoning his jacket, then pulling it open inches at a time with all the elaborate care of a ritual, until it hung loose about his shoulders. Without a pause his fingers moved on to his shirt, and Alice gasped as his bare skin was exposed – collarbones, chest and stomach – until there was a triangle of flesh visible from his shoulders to his navel under the ballroom’s light. He pulled his shirt aside and closed his eyes, as a man would do were he waiting for a sword thrust.
The King took a deep breath and the smile slipped from his face, leaving it bare of all expression and all humanity. He stalked along the line of them, the air shimmering in his wake like a heat haze. As he reached the end of the row of motionless young men, he lifted an arm, and Emily saw the air boil and ripple about it, the very flesh glow lambent and terrible with the power now contained in his hand.
‘Giles Scavian, apprentice, I deem you worthy to receive the sangreal, and with my touch I anoint you as a Warlock of Lascanne,’ the King declared. ‘May you ever use the powers I give you for the good of both king and country.’ Swiftly, he thrust out his palm and laid it flat against Scavian’s bared chest.
There was a hiss like meat sizzling on a fire, and Scavian stiffened, his features clenching in pain. The scent was not of burnt flesh, though, but of blood