Page 12 of The Court of Venus

“A year’s income,” Wyatt grumbled.

“A year’s income? Truly?” Roland smiled at him. “I could always count on Prospero.”

Unlike Oliver and Jasper, who were both swept up in conversation with Roland and his friends, the Sunborn Ambrose was quiet. Watchful. He finally introduced himself to me as the first course was served, bowing his golden head.

“No need,” he said when I opened my mouth to do the same. “I know who you are, Bianca Mortlake. Born under the crab, on the eleventh of July.” He inclined his chin toward Roland, who was still loudly reminiscing about his legendary game of cards. “You dislike the lord chancellor.” A small smile crept onto his full lips. “You may be the only one.”

I stole a glance at Roland. “I’ve made it too plain.”

“He is favored for both the magicians’ tourney and for the jousting. It is a shame no one can compete with him.” Ambrose laughed again, then leaned close to my ear. “I was half-expecting the Saturn Balthasar to show, though I suppose he’s—” He chased a berry on his plate, finally catching it. “—far too comfortable in Bastian.”

Saturn—the farthest planet known to us, the great mystery. Saturns were the most secretive of all magicians, cold as shadows over stone. I had only ever heard Balthasar’s name whispered or spat as a curse.

Ambrose leaned even closer. “It is all true, you know. What they say about him. They wait in long lines so he will reunite them with the dead. But it only lasts for a little while, and the experience is like wine. You’ll lunge for another sip right away. The entire Bastian court is lost in grief. The courtiers don’t dance merrily or laugh. They sit in silence, their food rots. Even the emperor spends his days shut away with the ghost of his dead wife. So, you see, a court is shaped by its ruling magician’s talents.” He nodded to Roland to prove his point.

“Did you apprentice in Bastian?” I asked.

“Oh, no. I spent my youth in Estellan.” A coastal kingdom across the channel. “The Sunborn there is the only other of my kind in the entire world, and as soon as he got word of me, he brought me to his palace. I was eight years old. Had I been less powerful, I suppose I could have remained in his vast library with my books and been very happy. But alas, he tried to kill me.”

“Alas.” My finger traced the rim of my goblet. I hesitated to ask whether loneliness had festered in him, too. We had only just met.

“And you, trained by the great—” He lowered his voice. “—Prospero himself.” His eyes cast light when they traveled to Roland. “Both of you, together?”

I nodded.

“It’s unusual. Most would wait until one apprentice had finished their training to take on the next. And Prospero was not of either of your planets. Better that way, I think. He would not see you as a threat, someone who would one day overtake him.” The beams of light swept to Jasper and Cosmo, as the boy magician licked his wine-tainted lips and looked to his master for approval. “How did Prospero manage to teach you?”

“He relied on old legends. Whatever he could find.”

Ambrose rubbed his bare chin. “I’ve heard a few. You can mine the feelings of men for pretty gems, can’t you?”

I shifted in my seat and felt a flash of interest from Roland’s mind. “Well, I suppose. For instance, if I looked inside you now, I could sense the general atmosphere, the texture of your mood.”

“Hmm. And what is it?”

“You’re curious. Intrigued by our conversation. Grateful, perhaps, that we’re seated together? I have to infer so much, you see.”

He smiled. Though he was reserved, I could also tell he liked to be the one quietly shining. “There’s more to Moonborn than that, though. Isn’t there?” He tapped his chin again. “Do you glow in the dark?”

I laughed beneath my hand. “Regrettably, no. Though I’ve been asked in some circumstances.”

“What are those?”

My answer died in my throat. A heavy gaze had landed on us, but when I peered over at Roland, he was laughing with Queen Cecily, his ear tilted toward her mouth. Yet it seemed as if his eyes had only recently jumped from our side of the table.

“Court is a web,” Ambrose whispered softly. He had seen where my attention traveled to. “Spiders who weave and flies who are caught. Which are you?”

For a moment, I hesitated. But there was no need to lie. The Sun shone into the soul of a person and revealed their true nature.

I was anything I wanted to be. I was born to change faces.

“Both,” I admitted. “Though at this very moment, I feel like a fly.”

Suddenly, Roland leapt to his feet and raised his cup. “Drink your wine, every last drop. We’re off to hunt for tonight’s banquet.”

Cecily clapped her hands. Wyatt Francis and Tom Guildford exchanged grins. The hounds beneath the table began to howl.

The forest was lush and green, the air promising rain. Roland rode proudly on a chestnut stallion at the head of the hunting party, wearing a tight leather jerkin over a white doublet, a pearl necklace resting against his collarbone. I considered spooking his horse several times, then thought better of it.