Page 13 of Joined By Magic

“Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”

He pulled me against him in a tight hug, and I rested my head on his shoulder. We sat together in silence until a knock sounded at the door.

Chapter Seven

Liv

I’dexpectedtheservantto lead us to the Great Hall, but he took us straight past those imposing doors and down a smaller corridor into a separate chamber. Leo held my hand tight, his face cold, eyes watchful. The tension rolled off him in waves.

The servant bowed as he ushered us inside. “His Majesty’s private dining hall.”

The room rivaled the Great Hall for opulence. It had a more old-fashioned feel, with none of the magical gimmicks or projections that made the larger space so startling. The floor was a mosaic of silver and gold, with the walls a rich shade of red. Light streamed in from high-set windows, and large candelabras holding wax candles hung from the ceiling. A polished rectangular table laid for thirty guests took up about half the room.

By Ataran custom, the most important guests arrived last, and only three seats remained empty—an ornate chair at the head of the table and two seats adjoining it. The room fell silent as the servant seated Leo closest to the king’s chair and me by his side, as promised, next to a short noble with red cheeks.

All the men wore cloaks, though none were gold or silver, and their clothes weren’t as elaborate as the royal finery. The few women wore dresses similar to mine and watched me with fascinated eyes. An awkward silence reigned. I put my hand on Leo’s leg under the table, and he gripped it with his larger one, the strength of his fingers a comfort. Waiters flitted around pouring water and wine.

I kept my face neutral. Calm, elegant, unconcerned. Definitely not about to throw up.

A bell sounded, startling me into a jump and ruining my attempt at decorum. Zantus curse it. Leo’s hand tightened on mine. A servant announced, “His Majesty, King Varras,” and the entire room got to their feet, sweeping into low bows. I copied as best as I could, the elegant motion awkward. Beside me, Leo gave a small bow.

The king entered. He wore his signature red-and-gold outfit, and his heavy cloak skimmed the floor behind him. A golden crown set with red jewels balanced on his head.

Leo will wear that one day.

The thought was too ridiculous to contemplate. The king waved a hand at his court. “Be seated.”

He strode to his place at the head of the table and carefully sank into the chair. His dark eyes, identical to Leo’s, took in the assembled nobles.

“My lords, you are doubtless all aware of recent events.” His voice rang clear and strong, with the cadence of a planned speech. “It is with great sadness that I confirm my firstborn son, Adante, is a traitor to the Crown due to his attempt on my life. I have stripped him of his title and his inheritance. He is an enemy of Atar, and I will execute anyone caught aiding him.”

No one spoke. I tried to breathe inaudibly as an oppressive silence hung over the room. The king took a sip of water, then continued.

“However, I recently had the joy of discovering I have not one son, but two, and my second son is a man to be reckoned with.” The king gestured toward Leo. “Some of you came to the ceremony yesterday where I acknowledged him as my heir, but it was brief. And so, I present to you Prince Leopold, possessed of the strongest magical bloodline ever recorded. Make your bows to him.”

The nobles got to their feet. One by one, they each bowed low to Leo and announced their names. He nodded and gave a few words of thanks to each. My blood pounded in my ears. This was happening. He was a prince. A crown prince.

At the far end of the table, one noble remained seated, his face pinched. He looked around seventy, though he could have been older.

“Is there a problem, Reynauld?” The king spoke as if asking a simple question, but I felt the mood in the room change. The two men to either side of Reynauld shifted slightly away in their seats.

Reynauld cast a look at the rest of the nobles. “It appears all my compatriots are cowards too weak-minded to say what they’re thinking. I have the advantage, I suppose, in having only a few months of life left.” He leaned forward, his lined face twisted in a disgusted sneer.

“You expect me to bow to this degenerate as our future king? The head of a backwater nation, and complete with this”—he waved a hand at me—“whatever she is. One moment she’s bent over with her skirt up, and the next we’re supposed to accept his whore at our table?”

Leo flew to his feet. “Use that word again and I’ll kill you myself.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” The king leaned forward with a nasty smile on his face. At a small motion of his hand, three red-and-gold-clad guards appeared from the edges of the room. “Make your bow, Reynauld, or suffer the consequences.”

Reynauld folded his arms across his chest. “No. Every man here feels the same as I do, they’re just too afraid to say it.”

Fury distorted the king’s features into an ugly mask. “Bring him.”

The guards converged on Reynauld. Two of them—big men whose thick biceps strained their shirts—picked Reynauld up like a doll and dragged him across the room. They threw the old man down at the king’s feet. He landed on his knees with a wince.

My breath came faster. I risked a glance at Leo, who watched with seeming impassivity, forehead creased and eyes locked on the spectacle. The king regarded Reynauld for a moment longer, then made a beckoning gesture toward Leo. Fear trickled into my blood as he moved to stand beside his father.

“I’ll leave this judgment in your hands, Leopold.” The king smiled as if granting him a great favor. “What would you see done to this man who insults your authority, denies your claim, and brands your”—he hesitated—“woman a whore. How will you make him pay?”

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