Rough Magic Read Online Free Page B

begun to look at her strangely, casting knowing glances at her belly. The secret could not be kept much longer. Sycorax did not like to think what would happen then. She was supposed to leave within the fortnight, as soon as the ship was ready and the rains had stopped.
    She stood by the window now, watching the rain, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. If she had been any other queen, the arrival of a child would have secured her position. This baby would do nothing for her but endanger her life.
    She’d been foolish, madly foolish, not to have destroyed it a month ago when she’d first made the discovery. She knew the herbs that would deliver a woman from her trouble. Instead, she had clung to the small life. It was hers. It was all she had. And now it might prove to be the death of her.
    Alonso would never tolerate it, not even if it was a girl. There was no way he would allow her to have any claims on his throne and power. Her only hope was to hide the pregnancy until she was safely settled in Carthage. Once she was there she could practice her art and defend both herself and her child.
    Sycorax tightened her grip around her waist. Two weeks was not a long time to conceal matters, but her body had already begun to thicken. Her maids would notice any binding and guess the cause. She would have to risk a spell.
    She twitched her shoulders, trying to shake away her fears. Alonso had grown sensitive to her magic. He said he could smell it on her.
    But it was not really fear of her husband that kept her from her craft. It was the fact that she had to fear him because her powers were weakening. She’d pulled from earth and moon, fire and stone, and she still didn’t have the strength to shield herself. For the first time in her life, she was nothing much more than a common woman.
    Sycorax twitched her shoulders again. The king never came to see her now. The king. When was the moment when Alonso had stopped being her husband? What had been the final break? Her maids were happy to let her know that he was often in the company of the pale lady. She was a quiet, graceful creature. She’d make a perfect queen. Her children would be welcomed. Joyfully.
    Well, there was nothing she could do about that. She turned her thoughts back to the spells she could work. There were only a few that didn’t require material elements for the casting. She could put a confusion spell on the maids, make them forget their suspicions about her. But such spells were tricky to control. They might all start blundering about, unable to remember where the clean linen was stored. It would take very little to convince people that she was doing magic. They’d burn her without a qualm.
    Or it would have no effect at all. She began to shiver, though she had neither chills nor fever. She was afraid.
    â€œI am afraid.”
    She said the words aloud. They were ridiculous, preposterous. How could she be afraid of anything, anyone? That she had come to this! Powerless, alone, fearing – fearing! – for her very life. The foreign emotion was quickly overwhelmed by a more familiar fury.
    She began to break things. A wine glass, a chair. She tore a tapestry hanging on her wall to shreds. She ripped the wedding ring from her finger and threw it into the fire. She commanded the blaze to melt it. The flames rose briefly, then died back to a pale splutter. Her pitiful weakness was never more obvious. She raged and wept and slashed a painting of her husband’s grandmother with a shard of broken glass.
    Finally she sat down in the middle of the wreckage. She was broken. She might as well be dead.
    That would certainly make things easier for the king. She’d be quietly buried, discreetly gone. How triumphant he’d be! The pale lady would be queen, no taint upon her throne, their children.
    Sycorax would not let that happen. There was revenge to be had. There was her unborn child to protect.
    If magic could not help