Page 72 of The Court of Venus

“Oh, I suppose there is an oath, isn’t there?” It took him several moments to recall it. “Kneel.”

I nearly choked. “Now?”

“On your knees, yes.”

I lowered myself to the grass, and he lifted my chin so I would meet his eyes. When I licked my lips, his gaze wandered recklessly to my mouth. “The oath is meant to be said alone, in a place sacred to you, but this will have to do. Repeat after me. ‘For Alvion, I take up my sword. For love of King, I become his armor.’” He removed his signet ring and slipped it on my finger. I held it in place with my thumb. “‘For his Magician, I offer my future. For his issue, I take my axe and clear a path. For Alvion, for love of King, for his Magician, for his issue, I bind myself.’ Say it.”

Chin raised, I recited it. His eyes darkened as he watched. When I finished, a chill, ancient breath moved through my body. The Mercury who had crafted this oath must have done so a thousand years ago.

“Good. It is done,” he said, tearing himself away, releasing my chin. He held out his hand. “Now, I’ll have my ring back.”

Roland sat at the head of the table, sunlight cast behind him like a heavenly throne. Every inch the Venus King, the only flaw purple stains beneath his eyes. Still, he looked so handsome my breath caught in my throat.

A smile played on his lips as he bent to whisper to his treasurer.

The other councilors wore feathered caps and doublets stitched with their family’s sigil and ruling planet—red Mars and azure Jupiter and quicksilver Mercury the most common. Many were of the old guard who had served the king since he was a boy. Others were closer to Roland’s age. Tom Guildford looked shocked to see me enter the chamber, but Wyatt Francis welcomed me with a grin and pulled out the chair beside his. Neither gesture matched their shared suspicion. “Roland wants to cause a scandal, it seems,” Wyatt said.

“I’m only his advisor.”

“Are you now? That was rather quick.” He leaned closer to study me, draping a hand over the back of my chair. “Roland does like to surround himself with beauty.”

My cheeks reddened. Across the room, Roland cleared his throat.

Wyatt flinched, retracting his hand as if it had been slapped, and the men rose in one motion from their seats. Every beady eye trained on me.

“Councilors.” Roland’s rich voice was layered with command. He raised his hands, an order for everyone else to sit. There was a chorus of groaning wood as the men settled. “The coronation will continue as planned, despite the treasurer and comptroller’s complaints. I’ve decided to direct the funds from their households, so we can celebrate our new queen as lavishly as the king wishes.”

The treasurer, Nicholas Martin, blanched. “Why not raise taxes again?”

“The people want to celebrate their queen, too. What a way to stifle her popularity.” An eye roll. “Raising taxes.”

“Lord Chancellor,” sputtered Martin, “the way the Crown is spending for this coronation, just a few years after Eleanor’s—”

Roland raised a hand. “The king will have his way.”

Treasurer Martin and Fulke Roet both scowled, heads pressed together. His name might be forbidden, but Prospero the All-Knowing’s influence lingered still. It was unspoken: When he was lord chancellor, the treasury swelled.

Then Fulke spoke up. “May I remind everyone what aid Jupiter might lend to us? I have two such magicians in my employ.”

Fear writhed in Roland, but his expression was composed, if slightly irritated. Smiling without his teeth, he clapped his treasurer on the back. “Martin is more than capable of managing our supply of mint, thank you, Fulke. Oh, don’t be so glum. Look. We have a new member. I’ve named her … master of spheres. I’ve sworn her in, assured of her loyalty to our king, and she’s rather better to look at than most of you.”

Heads swiveled to me again. Roland beckoned me to stand, and I glared at him. He knew how I didn’t like to speak in front of people. But if he noticed my cry for help, he ignored it. He lounged back in his chair and steepled his hands together expectantly. From every direction came distaste, wariness, loathing, a swirl of ugly, malevolent color.

“I—” I broke off, looking to Roland. He nodded in encouragement. His mind was the only soft thing in the room, full of an emotion I couldn’t place.

After a moment, I realized what it was.

It was belief. Belief in me. It shined bright as a torch, and perhaps I could let it guide me. “I was the ward and adopted daughter of Prospero. He was a great magician. A great man.” Scandalized muttering broke out. “It is an honor to serve the king and Alvion as he did.”

I curtseyed and smoothed my gown, but Roland’s eyes narrowed. “And I—” I exhaled. Breathe, Bianca. Calm yourself. “I’d like to bring you to court,” Prospero once said, so long ago. “You will make my councilors very afraid.”

This room was the sun of power—a light so bright it touched everyone in this kingdom, every farmer and merchant and fisherman, every daughter of an innkeeper with red knees.

My gaze swept across the table. “I see the flicker of doubt in your minds, and I see your suspicion. I cannot know when you lie for certain as a Sunborn can, but I can sense when your heart beats at a rapid clip, when your palms sweat, when you look the lord chancellor in the eye as you speak but inside you recoil. I’d remind you, once again, that I am Prospero’s true daughter, in ability, if not in name.”

Several councilors squirmed in their seats. Fulke Roet and Charles Guildford caught each other’s eyes across the table, and Roland hid a smirk by scraping a hand over his jaw. He nodded his approval, then gathered everyone’s attention again by clapping his hands.

“In a more pressing matter, I have received a note from Ambassador Hoo that the Lionesse are gathering men on the coast again. They must assume our king is weakened and frail, that we would leave them be to flex their muscles.” A lie. Since we had defeated Lionesse years ago, they had slunk back into their castles. “A new treaty must be drawn with King Philippe. I will go at once, as I know the kingdom well from my time in their court.”