Page 11 of Ruled By Magic

Even without the command, I would have locked on to the couple in the mirror. Alone in the dress, I’d looked ridiculous, uncomfortable, and awkward. With him behind me, the image morphed into something else. He drew the eye first—tall and elegant, a man who would be given the best table at a restaurant without needing to ask. I appeared decorative to him, a floozy. All tanned skin, barely concealed breasts, and the open promise of sex. My gaze traveled down his arm to where it rested on my stomach in a protective pose.

He must have followed my eyeline, because he slid his hand up until his fingers grazed the underside of my breast with a featherlight touch. I stiffened, frozen. A trapped bird. Would he keep going? Expose me right here? He met my eyes in the mirror, smiled, and trailed his hand back down. It didn’t reassure me. More like a cat, playing with his meal. Putting off the inevitable for his own amusement.

Eyes still locked on mine, he traced the line of my underwear through the clingy dress. His fingers grazed a spot below my navel that made my stomach muscles tense as an unwanted, sluggish shiver of pleasure traveled to my core. I stilled my body, desperate not to give any hint of reaction to his touch, but the bastard must have felt something. He traced over the area again, pressed a little harder. The same reaction sparked, and I held in a gasp.

In the mirror, his expression lost some of its studied coldness. His lips parted, and he examined me with sharpened interest, eyes bright in his too-perfect face. He moved his fingers again, circled the sensitive spot in a slow, teasing motion, and dipped them a little lower. To my absolute horror, my nipples hardened, visible through the clinging fabric of the dress. Color rose in my cheeks, my eyes wide, and I didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror any longer.

He leaned down, lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “I’m going to have a lot of fun with you. Time to go.”

His grip tightened on my arm. I tried to turn to face him, but before I could, blackness swirled in from the edges of my vision and a swooping sensation took over my stomach. The world shuddered, and darkness shrouded everything.

The world swirled back into focus with a sickening jolt. I would have fallen if it wasn’t for the Lord Commander’s iron grip. My stomach reeled, then settled, and I staggered in my heels. With a ragged breath, I lifted my hands and stared at them. Still solid. What the fuck was that?

“You’ll get used to it.” The Lord Commander watched me, his eyes bright with amusement. “I’d forgotten how disorienting teleportation is the first time. Now collect yourself, Livet. People are staring.”

My awareness snapped back into my body, and I straightened. I took in my surroundings, registered it all in a heady rush of color and sound. We stood in the middle of a large chamber, high ceilinged and lit by several chandeliers. Elaborate flower arrangements lined every available surface and gave the room an airy, garden feel. Beautiful.

People filled the space, shocked expressions on their faces. All eyes locked on us. Almost everyone except the servers wore something red. The women wore conservative gowns, form-fitting but high-necked, a painful contrast to my semi-clad state. Unfazed, the Lord Commander raised a hand in greeting. “Good evening.”

I shrank under the crowd’s scrutiny. Zantus, I wanted a wrap, or a jacket, anything to cover myself. The other guests’ attention magnified the indecency of my outfit a thousand times over, and a deeper heat rose in my already flushed face. This was cruel beyond measure, a ritual humiliation. I glanced up at my tormentor, and he met my gaze without a hint of pity.

With a firm hand on my lower back, he guided me to a high, circular table. No chairs. My feet ached in the ridiculous shoes. The guests shot long glances at me, and whispers filled the air. My skin crawled.

A small cluster of people detached from the wall and approached. They wore plain black clothing that didn’t match the waitstaff. The man at the front gave the Lord Commander a respectful nod. “We’re ready when you are, Lord Commander.”

He leaned down to me. “I’ve invited representatives from all the popular circulars, to make sure they get some good shots of your first public appearance.”

The circulars. Nasty gossip rags. The photographers usually had to content themselves with images snapped from hidden vantage points. A drunken tumble, or a bad outfit. An invitation to an event full of wealthy mages would be a dream come true for those leeches.

The Lord Commander stepped forward, and the firm pressure of his hand moved me with him. He positioned me next to him, tight to his body, a parody of a loving couple. I glanced down at myself. Cool air circulated through the room, and my nipples still stood erect, heightening my wanton appearance. He followed my gaze and made a low noise of amusement in his throat. He whispered, “I almost feel sorry for you. Now, smile.”

I didn’t. He could dress me how he liked, but he couldn’t make me pretend I enjoyed it. I kept my face in a stark, neutral expression. The group of pressmen leveled their boxy cameras, and the flashbulbs erupted with blinding intensity. I flinched, but his arm held me tight.

I blinked spots from my eyes as the light storm abated. The Lord Commander nodded at the pressmen and led me back to the table. Irritation at my docility forced its way through the low haze of fear that hung over me like a cloud. I was behaving just as he wanted, obedient and passive. But what else could I do? He held every single card.

“That’ll make the cover of every circular.” Satisfaction radiated from him. A server offered a silver platter of fluted glasses filled with sparkling wine. The Lord Commander took two and handed one to me. Our fingers touched, and I flinched at the contact, slopping amber liquid onto the table. A different server shot over, cleaned the spill, and returned to his position by the wall, lightning quick. I stared after him.

“How fast would they clean it if I dropped the glass?” The words fell out, and I clamped my hand over my mouth.

He shrugged, lips curved up. “Try it and see.”

I debated for a moment. Maintain an aloof silence, or try to make him view me as a person? What would help my position the most? I took a sip from my drink. The crisp, dry flavor sang against my tastebuds. Good quality, of course. I set it down. “Won’t you look bad if I throw drinks around the place? What if I throw the furniture too?”

He widened his eyes in mock horror. “That would be dreadful. The circulars would report you as hysterical. A poor non-mage girl, unable to behave in a civilized manner. Raised to this exalted social status,”—he waved a hand at the other guests— “but behaving like a settlement brawler. How embarrassing. For you.”

I shook my head. A clever way to twist the situation. Before I could reply, he took a long swallow of his wine, throwing back the delicate drink as though it were cheap house cider. His face hardened again, the politician’s neutral mask in place once more. “We’ll be called for dinner shortly, but there’s someone I’d like you to meet first.”

He scanned the crowd. I did too, and plucked recognizable faces from the mob. Several Assemblymen, a well-known painter, and a woman I knew from vid streams but whose name I couldn’t dredge up. No one, thank Zantus, who I’d exposed on my site. The Lord Commander raised a hand. “Ellory!”

A man turned. I placed him. Short, midfifties and on the chubby side, with a bright mop of ginger hair. Vice Commander Ellory Griffin, a candidate for Lord Commander in the normal course of things. How did he feel about losing his shot at the top job?

The twenty-five mage families with the highest net worth each held a seat on the Assembly, provided they filled it with a male of voting age. Those men then elected a Lord Commander, who ruled until retirement or death. A broken system, it produced weak, inept leaders and an obsession with gathering personal wealth.

Ellory approached, face twisted into a smile. “Lord Commander! It’s rare we see you at these events.”

The Lord Commander gestured to me with his glass. “She’s far too beautiful to keep hidden away, don’t you think?”

I gripped the stem of my wineglass harder. Don’t react. Six long months to cope with. If he got under my skin on the very first night, I’d lost.

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