The Royal Sorceress by Christopher Nuttall Read Free Book Online Page B

money – and gave it to the girl. Her eyes went wide; the chances were that it was more money than she’d had in her entire life. Given that he’d charmed her, it was a fair recompense. “Wait for me here. Once I have finished, I may have other tasks for you.”
    He smiled as one of the young women finally approached. Her face suggested a mixture of English and Negro in her blood, part of the great melting pot of lower-class London. She would have been pretty if her eyes hadn’t been so tired, if she hadn’t known the truth about her existence before she’d grown old enough to try to make her own way in the world.
    “Like what you see, sir?” She asked. Her voice was light and breathy. “We have others, far more exotic, if you are a real connoisseur…”
    “I’m here to see Mistress Lucy,” Jack said, cutting her up. He allowed a little more Charm to slip into his voice. “I’m an old friend. Take me to her at once.”
    “Well, well,” a new voice said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
    Jack looked up and smiled. “Lucy,” he said. “It is simply lovely to see you again.”
    “I’ll give you lovely,” Lucy said. She was older than he remembered. “What are you doing here?”
    “I’m here to overthrow the government,” Jack said, cheerfully. “Isn’t that a lovely idea?”

 

    Chapter Five
    G wen rose to her feet as Cannock stepped into the room. Master Thomas had told her that the next series of magical lessons would be coming from her fellow apprentices, who were more skilled with their individual powers than he was with each of them. It wasn’t something that entirely pleased her – and it was clear, looking at him, that Cannock bitterly resented having to teach anyone. He would graduate in June and start serving the British Empire in foreign parts. Teaching a young lady wasn’t among his ambitions.
    He was a short young man with messy dark hair and darker eyes, barely old enough to go dancing on his own. Gwen guessed, from the way his eyes lingered on her chest for just a second or two longer than necessary, that he’d already discovered the pleasures of drinking and wenching, just like her brother. It was a double standard – men could enjoy themselves with whores, women had to be chaste – but it wasn’t one she intended to challenge. The thought of sharing her body with hundreds of men was horrifying. If she ever found a husband, someone she could love, perhaps she would feel differently about it.
    “Thank you for coming,” Gwen said, as graciously as she could. She had already learned that the Royal College and Royal Sorcerers Corps judged by talent, rather than noble blood, but even they couldn’t avoid it entirely. Cannock was the younger son of the Duke of Essex and a bad word to his father could lead to unpleasant repercussions for the Royal College. At least he’d earned his awards through hard work and endless practice. She didn’t have to worry that he’d purchased his commission. “I am very pleased to meet you.”
    Cannock gave her a half-bow, rather than kissing her hand. Gwen was rather pleased about that, although she knew that he had intended it as a subtle insult. Kissing a woman’s hand was a way to show respect; a bow suggested a certain reserve. The way his eyes kept dancing over her worried her, even though part of her mind found it amusing. Men never seemed to change. At least a magician from the Royal College wouldn’t find her powers intimidating…or perhaps they would. They had spent years practicing to rise in the ranks and Gwen had succeeded merely through an accident of birth.
    “Moving is one of the simplest talents and yet it is the most complex,” Cannock said, at once. His voice was flat, almost dead. Someone had twisted his arm quite badly – Gwen hoped that that was metaphorical – to force him to teach Gwen his talent. “It basically consists of using your mind to move objects about without actually touching them physically. The