Rough Magic Read Online Free Page A

only one who would suffer from their law.
    Which, of course, was the reason for the law.
    Not that Alonso admitted the truth. He had been sympathetic, of course, but determined. “You have no need for your magic here,” he had told her. “Here you need to concern yourself only with matters befitting a royal wife.”
    She had been silenced then, as she had been so many times before. Alonso meant to take every last shred of power she had, meant to leave her a hollow husk that he could blow away with the breath of a single word. She had been a fool to think that she could control him.
    Now he was coming here. She was not surprised. His man must have reported to him, and he had come to satisfy his curiosity, to determine the truth himself. She allowed herself one whispered curse, then sat on her favorite chair. There she leaned back as though she were too weak to support herself. She slowed her breathing and willed herself to look pale.
    He was here, beside her, without even knocking. She startled, only some of it feigned.
    â€œI heard you were poorly,” he said, his eyes capturing hers.
    She pretended confusion. “I am well,” she replied, falteringly.
    â€œHmmph.” He was not convinced; she saw that clearly. “I had you followed,” he said.
    So, it was to be open combat, then. She relished this.
    The blood rose in her cheeks. “You did what?” she said.
    He waved a hand at her. “You acted your part very well. My man is convinced that you are nothing more than a woman distraught and alone.”
    â€œAnd so I am,” she pointed out.
    Alonso flapped a hand at her again. “You’re as alone as a shark in the sea,” he said, “and about as dangerous.”
    â€œDangerous!” she snorted derisively. “How am I dangerous? I have no allies here to defend me, I cannot even speak in public, and now I am forbidden to practice my craft, even privately!”
    â€œCraft! I have seen what your ‘craft’ is, and what it can do. And don’t make claims upon my obligation again,” he said, lifting his hand as she opened her mouth to protest. “You have sung that song enough. It was your magic that snared me in the first place.”
    â€œSnared you! Poor fellow, what aid could you call upon – other than your army of three thousand men, that is.” She turned from him and walked to the window, gripping the sill with both hands, her breathing ragged. He had guessed the truth.
    But he paused his attack. She had scored a hit herself, and he had enough grace not to force the point. But that grace only extended so far. He would have his way.
    â€œWe must resolve this,” he said at last. “I offer you a small estate in Carthage. It has belonged to my family for over a hundred years. It’s yours, where you may live out your life in dignity and in the manner you choose. You must only promise me that you will not practice your art against my interests. What do you say to this?”
    Banished. To some forgotten place in barren Carthage, the mausoleum of the world. It was fitting, perhaps; a once great city for a once great queen. She gripped the sill of the window even harder, till her fingers were white and the knuckles stood out like jagged stones. Was this the best that her power could do?
    â€œAnd you?” she asked.
    â€œMe?” His voice was neutral, guarded. He knew what she meant.
    â€œWill you marry again, perhaps make a queen of that pale-faced girl who smiles so much at our table?”
    He was silent. It was a direct hit.
    â€œI have a state to run,” he said at last. “For its stability, I must have heirs, heirs who are respected as legitimate.”
    Not the offspring of a foreign enemy, a traitorous queen. Not a witch’s spawn.
    â€œI will go,” she said. “Make your arrangements.”
    To his credit, Alonso said nothing as he left.

I.vii.
    She was troubled. Her maids had