Page 12 of Ruled By Magic

Ellory’s gaze stuck resolutely to my face, but a slight blush spread across his cheeks. “She is, Lord Commander. A daring move on your part, I must say.”

Obsequious little toad.

The flash of scorn that disturbed the Lord Commander’s expression hinted he’d come to the same conclusion. He smirked. “I’m glad you approve. I have a meeting tomorrow with the Alarian ambassador. Please attend. In the Wilson chamber, two p.m.”

“Of course.”

A bell rang. The guests moved toward double doors at the far end of the room.

“Have a good evening, Ellory.” The Lord Commander set his glass down, and Ellory departed with a polite nod.

“You too, Lord Commander.”

The Lord Commander took my arm and made to lead me to the doors with the rest of the group. I hesitated, weighing the words, but I couldn’t hold back my curiosity. “What was that about?” I paused, then forced myself to add, “Lord Commander.”

He looked at me, brows raised. Hadn’t he expected me to speak to him at all? Here, surrounded by people, I felt bolder. Safety in numbers. After dinner, though, we’d be alone again. My stomach lurched at the thought.

He considered me before answering. “That was a test. Ellory is a yes-man. The previous Lord Commander was religious, so Ellory made a show of piety and frowned on anything that might offend the priesthood. Our arrangement”—he scanned my body in a way that made me want to cross my arms over my chest—“will upset the priesthood a great deal. If he planned to show disdain for me, he would have done it then. He was polite instead. He’s going to behave.”

An interesting tactic. Despite everything, the part of my brain that enjoyed political machinations came to life. I’d always wanted to understand what went on inside palace walls, how the Assembly conducted business. And now I could learn of it, right from the source. It just came at a terrible price. I put my glass down and let the Lord Commander lead me toward the doors.

A long table set with paper-thin porcelain plates and silver cutlery stretched down the room. The indoor garden theme continued, and flowers bedecked the walls. Vines twisted with red blooms reached artfully up in arches. To the side, four women in white played stringed instruments, ranging from a tiny violin tucked under the chin to a behemoth of a harp. The music they produced blended into the background noise, and no one seemed to be listening. What was the point? A lot of fuss, just so some pretentious people could eat a meal.

The Lord Commander drew out a chair at the head of the table with a smile, as though I were a date he intended to impress. His careful, courtly politeness in public needled me. Accepting the small offers of kindness—the chair, the glass of wine—made me part of the charade. The watching guests might think I wanted to be here, half dressed and shamed. Which, of course, was his plan.

I set my face into a scowl but couldn’t hold in the sigh of relief as I sat down and removed the weight from my poor, abused feet. The urge to kick my shoes off and rub my calves filled me, but I resisted, the Lord Commander’s words echoing in my brain. Any blunder of etiquette I made would make me look uncultured and boorish. Even more of an embarrassment to non-mages than I was already.

The servers set down enormous platters of steaming food and buzzed around the table, filling the plates. I didn’t recognize half of it. A server appeared at my shoulder. “What would you like, ma’am?”

Ma’am?

I opened my mouth to select one of the few plain, safe dishes, but the Lord Commander answered for me. “She’ll have a taste of everything. Same for me.”

The server nodded and piled our plates with a bewildering selection. Miniature eggs still in their shells, red meat coated with glistening purple sauce, and berries covered in hard, bright blue cases. My empty stomach churned and rebelled at the sight of it. I turned a glare on the Lord Commander and kept my voice low, though I couldn’t help the frustration in it. “Am I forbidden to choose my food, then? That too?”

He leaned close and whispered. “You won’t have tried most of this before. Live a little. And”—his hand slid to my leg under the table, accessible thanks to the split in my dress—“wipe that sullen look from your face.”

His fingers traced up the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and his touch seared me. I went rigid and stared at the plate in front of me, heart pounding. Would the other guests notice? Could they see how intimately he touched me, right here in public? Dexians frowned on anything more than a chaste kiss. I risked a glance up. No one stared in horrified outrage. The table hid everything.

He stopped just short of the apex of my thighs and leaned in again. “Good behavior, Livet. That was our agreement. So smile for me. Play the role. My perfect, pretty little consort, delighted to be here, surrounded by all this luxury. Do I make myself clear?”

His fingers circled, teasing the nerve endings so close to my core, and my body, primed to a knife-edge by fear, responded. I’d been deprived of all human touch, all pleasure, for weeks. Cameras monitored my every movement in prison, even after dark. I thought of touching myself often during the long, dull hours, but the threat of prying eyes forced my hand away, no matter how my frustration grew.

Now, trapped and powerless, I could do nothing but fight to keep my face blank as his touch sent bolts of electric pleasure from my thigh straight to my center. He explored my skin with slow, languid strokes, as if he wanted to know what each contour felt like. Unable to help it, I squirmed in my seat. He stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“I asked you a question. Did I make myself clear? Or would you prefer I continue this...” He trailed his finger the length of my thigh, grazing the very edge of my underwear before drawing it back again. My body shuddered. “...for the entire meal?”

“No,” I forced out. “It’s clear, Lord Commander.”

“Good.” He squeezed my leg one last time and withdrew his hand. I pressed my thighs together, as if that might force away the ache. One deep breath, then another. My heart slowed.

What was that about? He hated me, and with good reason. His plan to humiliate me made a horrible kind of sense. Quite creative. But these teasing touches? A suspicion formed right on the edge of my consciousness. He could force me into bed with no effort at all. We both knew that. He wouldn’t even have to. I understood what I’d agreed to, and I didn’t plan on backing out of the deal. But what if that didn’t satisfy him? It would be so much more demeaning if he made me complicit in my shame by wanting him.

Hex’s warning rang out in my memory. Don’t let him get in my head. Good advice.

“The kater berries are especially nice, an unusual flavor.” He spoke at normal volume now, pitched for those closest to us on either side of the table to hear. He pointed to the berries with their strange, hard coverings.

I installed a bland smile on my face. “How do I eat them? It’s going to be difficult shelling them with these nails.”

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