Page 8 of Ruled By Magic

This was good, though. Better than some lonely private residence. The palace housed the Assembly members, their families, and staff. The name came from the days when royalty still ruled Dexia, rather than power passing via political machinations. An oligarchy of wealthy families ruled together now. They spent more time arguing than doing anything useful.

The palace meant people, potential allies. Unless—

Don’t think about it. My hands shook as last night’s visions forced their way in, despite my best efforts.

Unless he keeps me locked in his room. Chained to the bed. Shut in a cage like a dog. Beats me. Makes me do twisted shit.

Bile rose in my throat. A buzz filled my head as the karros ate up the miles. I fought against panic, my breaths erratic. Sweat trickled down my neck despite the cool air. I pressed my forehead to the smooth glass of the window and tried to focus on the scenery. Cramped city streets with houses pressed together in tight rows gave way to wide streets, greenery, and the occasional country estate glimpsed down long driveways. As the karros rolled forward, forest replaced neatly cut grass, looming on both sides until we reached a wide break in the trees. The palace entrance.

We passed a checkpoint at the gates of the palace, then moved through the grounds. I couldn’t see the building well from the back seat but glimpsed dark carved stone and angry griffins, gothic and forbidding. I’d once tried to organize a school trip here. The wealthy mage Academies did so every year. The palace denied my request—security concerns cited as the reason—and I contented myself with showing my students vid footage of it.

My students. Another pang of loss ricocheted through me. I’d never see them develop into adults. How would the Academy cope with the scandal?

We entered an underground space, filled with rows of identical karros. The brash young guard pulled my door open. “We need to hurry, he wants you in his room by six.”

They rushed me into an elevator and used a key card to activate it. No buttons. Another corridor, and before I had time to prepare myself we faced a plain black door. The older guard pressed the intercom.

Fear coursed through me and I fought to keep still, toes curled inside my flat slippers. A crackle of static cut the silence, and the guard spoke. “She’s here.”

My breath came in hard pants and I struggled to keep my feet. My body shook. I clamped my hands together in front of me. This was it. The door would open, the guards would leave, and I’d be alone with him.

The door swung inwards, but instead of the Lord Commander, a tall, heavyset woman in her midfifties awaited me. Her lips curved into a warm smile, which crinkled her eyes and extinguished some of my dread. She held out a meaty hand. “I’m Helen, the Lord Commander’s private secretary.”

I grasped and shook. “I’m Liv.”

Helen nodded, then turned to the guards, expression much less friendly. “I hope you two haven’t said anything stupid to her. I’ll hear about it if you have.”

They beat a hasty retreat. Good. Helen motioned me into the apartment. It looked like I imagined the best suite in a posh guesthouse would. Beautifully furnished, but impersonal. No photos on the walls, generic art, the table set with an ornate but impractical dinner service. Stylized down to the artfully placed cushions on the sofas.

It made sense. He’d only been Lord Commander for a few weeks, after all. Still, I’d hoped to find a few clues about him from his living space. There was a large, well-appointed kitchen, and several other rooms branching off it. It could swallow my flat many times over.

“The Lord Commander asked me to get you settled in and dressed, ready for the evening. He’s held up at work. Probably a good thing. I’d imagine being faced with him right off the bat would have been a bit much.” Her calm voice soothed me. I liked her immediately.

“I’ve been terrified.” Lying seemed pointless. Helen’s expression darkened.

“You would have been. Don’t take offense, but I think he’s lost his mind. Why he saw the need to strong-arm you into this arrangement—” She shook her head.

My breathing regulated. One person. At least one friendly person in the palace, and it was someone close to the Lord Commander. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Helen led me to a bedroom on the right. Pleasant but bland, like the rest of the apartment. A bed, a wardrobe, and a door leading to its own en suite. “This is your room.”

I stared around. “My room?”

I sounded stupid to my own ears. My eyes took in every detail of the neutral space as I reassessed my circumstances. My best hope—to be housed somewhere separate and called on occasionally—died. But the small suite dulled the edge of my worst fears, too. It didn’t look like he planned to keep me trapped in his bedroom. Unless this was all for show, for Helen’s benefit, and would change as soon as he had me alone.

I glanced into the living room. He’d walk through that door any minute. I’d never be able to get away from him. Every morning, I’d wake up and he’d be right there. At night, even if he let me sleep by myself, he’d only be feet away. Able to wander in whenever he wanted. No privacy at all. The panic which had eased thanks to Helen crashed back full force. I sat on the bed, head in my hands.

Helen put a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe. It’ll be okay. He’s very busy, he’ll leave early and be home late. And—” She seemed to debate with herself. “He’s not all bad. The way he behaved in that courtroom...” She blew out a breath. “I was there, I saw his whole performance. But there’s another side to him. I hope you’ll see it.”

I nodded but didn’t hold out much hope. He might be nice to Helen. Why wouldn’t he be pleasant to his own secretary? That didn’t mean he’d treat me the same way.

Helen glanced at her watch and jumped. “We need to get a move on, he’ll be along soon to collect you. He’s had some clothes sent up to your wardrobe. You’re heading to dinner. A decent-sized event, so it’ll be evening wear.”

He planned to parade me about on his arm? My heart sank at the prospect. Everyone would judge me. And dinner with who? A chill ran through me. Would anyone I’d exposed as corrupt be present?

I opened the wardrobe. Shock tore a gasp from my throat. A single dress hung there, if it could be called a dress. Thin, clingy material in an iridescent teal shade, with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high split. Desperate, I pulled open the drawers. A selection of lingerie and revealing sleepwear. Not one bra. And the underwear...

I picked up one scrap of fabric. It had a single silky thread where the back should be. Designed to expose and entice, rather than cover.

Dexians considered a knee-length skirt daring. Modest necklines might as well be enforced. Our society valued chastity and preferred female skin be covered. I usually wore jeans or trousers anyway, comfort over style. This dress? It was barely even underwear. I couldn’t wear it out in public. I’d die of shame.

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