Chapter Sixteen #2
Marquis, swearing in the distance, spat a spell as plaster dust rained from between ceiling runners. “You made that one up, sir! Now, we can continue flinging banter, or you can assist me in helping you move on.”
A polite knock on the door made glass panes rattle, and Mads rose to his feet and strode forward to spy the silhouette of Morgana Eclipse, his new mother-in-law.
The two had nodded amicably at one another a few times, but Mads wasn’t aware of whether or not she approved of their union.
He supposed that he’d find out as he opened the door and gave her a quick bow. “Lady Morgana, Covenmistress.”
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “None of that. Invite me in, dear.”
She made to untie the scarf from her head as her eyes drifted upward toward the volley of swears in the attic. “Perhaps we might speak on the veranda? A mother was not meant to hear that sort of speech from her son.”
“I swear to the goddesses that I will have an epitaph engraved upon your tombstone that you died by multiple rectal traumas inflicted by a host of only the burliest Polish men if you do not behave!”
The ghost fired something back, and her lips thinned. “Warranted as it may be.”
A whistle from the kettle told Mads that it was ready, so he hurried and filled a coal warmer, the tea cart, and moved them outdoors.
Mads cast a quick silencing charm, his old wand sputtering as he did so.
The thing had been hewn by a member of his old coven that had a little skill in the craft, but it was secondhand and not a perfect carrier for him.
“And Marquis has not seen fit to give you a new wand?” Her gaze narrowed at the knotted spruce with a macramé handle.
“I never asked for one.” Mads hid it away and politely tucked the coal pan under the edges of Morgana’s skirts.
She sighed in gratefulness as Mads poured the fresh tea and pushed a cup into her hands after a polite decline of sugar. “I’d offer cream, but we’ve not had a chance to go to market as of yet.”
“I’m not fond of cream in my tea.” She smiled and cupped her hands to the crazed China for warmth. “But speaking of teas I cannot permit, cruel-tea.”
She tittered a polite laugh at her own joke, the fine structure of her cheeks and jawline more akin to Marquis than Arthur. Mads waited for her gesture to sit and did so with his practiced neutral but pleasant expression forced across his face.
“It occurs to me that I’ve not had a chance to speak with you, as of yet.
” She sipped her tea and swilled the cup, staring down at the contents.
Mads took it as prompting to sip his own as tea leaves swam about.
“Marquis is used to much finer. I apologize that this is what Arthur has gifted you two.”
It was the second biggest house that Mads had ever been in, barring the Eclipse estate.
It had a beautiful pecan tree out front with the pinned leaves still scattering the ground and the rich, oily scent of sweet, earthy decomposition from the shells.
He frequently rooted around in the earth to steal a few as-of-yet-unrotted ones for a snack.
Toasted with a little sugar in the brasier and they were a fine treat.
He’d made some fresh that morning while Marquis warred with a gnome infestation and forbade him from assisting.
Likely because Mads’s solution was fairly unethical.
Having seen a gnome gangbang on an unconsenting opossum at one point…pouring kerosene down their holes and lighting it aflame felt justified.
All that aside, he loved the house, and assured Morgana that it was lovely and much appreciated. Parents had no obligation to give houses to their children, so he was happy as long as Marquis was there.
The doubtful look in her dark eyes obscured behind lowering lashes as she swilled her tea again. “Speak frankly to me, omega. Cards on the table, as it were.”
The cards jab made Mads flinch as if she knew his penchant.
“Mads. If you, please.” Mads pinched his shoulders, barely aware of the gesture. He tried to straighten up as Marquis had incessantly prodded him to do, but in the face of such a refined woman, it didn’t come naturally.
“Mads.” She nodded and sipped her tea once more, a light shadow of ochre lip stain remaining on the faded gold rim.
“Thank you, M—” Mads started, but Morgana held up a hand to silence him.
She took a long drag of her tea and stared down at her cup and smiled in a sad sort of way. “Why were you with my Baron?”
He had a lie on the tip of his tongue—that he thought he was in love, that he yearned for something more, but that fizzled out. “Because he was the best I could do at the time. When one is starving and someone offers you steak, even if it’s not your preference, you accept it.”
She pursed her lips and nodded sagely. “Money and power.”
“Would be lying if that didn’t earn a tick in the pro column.” Mads sipped and tilted his cup to spread the leaves and gave them a little read. Honesty, tragedy, bright futures, love.
“So how did you end up in both my sons’ beds?” She pursed her lips and raised an imperious and impeccably sculpted brow. Coquettish and a little sultry, Mads knew that Morgana had a streak of salt in her.
Mads sighed and spoke plainly. “Baron wanted me. I was happy just to be wanted. I came to visit, often, and he made no mention of meeting his family but always insinuated there was a future for us. I was swept up in the promises.”
She nodded sagely, frowning.
“Then I popped over for a visit, and Marquis was there, and I find out he’s off and mated to a fine familiar from overseas with good breeding and everything I’m not.
” Mads shrugged and disrupted his leaves to see if they had anything else to say.
The shape somewhat looked like a bassinet. Children were a possibility.
“And you slept with my other son without second thought?” She sniffed.
“It crossed my mind. I offered, and he turned me down out of propriety. He felt I needed some emotional care after the upheaval. Marquis and I ate, we bathed, and he read to me. I never learned much more than my letters in school, so I can’t read all that good.
I went to leave before we fell asleep, and he talked me into getting some rest with him.
I feared we’d be spotted come morning and there would be scandal.
” Mads slung his dregs over the porch rail and poured another cup, offering Morgana a second serving as well. She tossed hers in kind.
“And there was.” She nodded.
“The maid screamed, his father came storming in, Baron shouted, and before I knew it, Marquis said he would marry me if it would set it all to rights.” Mads fidgeted before he recalled the pralines he’d made that morning and opened the tin to offer her some.
She took them with delight and a toothy crunch.
“Mmh! Where did you get these treats?”
“Made them this morning. There was some sugar in the larder, and the pecans are still good.” Mads shrugged.
“Make me some of these, son, and I’ll marry you if things with Marquis don’t work out.” She hummed and ate another.
“Struggle food. Cheap, easy, quick, and good.” Mads shrugged.
“I swear, we miss out on trends these days. The covens stay so separated from humans that we lose touch. So, back on topic. How much did Arthur offer you?” A knowing look sparkled in her dark eyes.
“Enough. But if I wanted to leave, I would without a penny. Marquis doesn’t deserve that sort of betrayal.
” Mads took a praline for himself, treasuring the sweetness.
Adding a little pinch of salt, pearlash, and malt to the sugar always made them better, made little bubbles in the sugar that gave them a pinch crispier of a crunch.
She nodded as if that was what she expected. “You’re not in the family way, are you?”
Mads shook his head. “I may be a fool, but I’m not fool enough to give an alpha a heat without a wedding ring. My father made that mistake.”
She sipped her tea and licked her fingertips lightly, prying away errant crumbs of praline. “And if I wanted more of these pralines to take home?”
“How much you want?” Mads gestured at the tin. “That’s all I have left from this morning.”
“A few pounds if you would. I have guests coming this evening. And how much money would you like for them?” She smiled hopefully.
Mads frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of taking your money. I’ve already taken your son. I’d have to pick up more pecans and shell them. If I get on them now, I can—”
She stood, rolled up the sleeves of her dress, lifted her skirt, and tied a knot at the hem and grinned. “I’ll help gather and shell, then. Would that save you time?”
Mads nodded and abandoned their tea as they went about the front yard picking fallen pecans from the ground, flicking off the outer shucking, and tucking them into her gathered skirts, at her insistence.
As they gathered, they spoke of anything and everything. She had a way of making Mads speak about his home and life, invested in his ingenuity when it came to money. And she read between lines, the unspoken words, that his pride would not be broken.
And soon after, they cracked pecans, clenching two at a time in their fists to break the shell and pick free the kernels, flicking away the bitter septum within.
The old hog-nosed ones leaking black oil got tossed right back into a bucket by the railing.
As a pecan rotted, opening them revealed something that looked rather morbidly like a pig’s snout leaking black ichor.
If they were fully dried up, they tossed them in the yard.
“What are you going to do with the rotten ones, dear?” She eyed the bucket curiously.
“Marquis makes wands.” He pursed his lips and rubbed the black contents over his fingers to reveal the grub-eaten contents.
“If you soak them in water for a week until it starts to ferment, you can strain and boil down the worm-eaten ones. The scabs make enough pigment, and they have an almost greenish-hued brown. It’s a very light stain for wood.
I used to use—” He quieted as she gave him a rather lingering stare.
“Go on.”
“I used to stain pine boards with pecan wash for some peddlers to try and hawk it as maple.” He pursed his lips.
She stifled a laugh. “But you’re thinking like a wandmaker’s mate.”
Her fingers, oily, red from cold, cracked, and nails dirty, reached for his own and squeezed. “Now, let’s go roast these and hope Marquis shows his face so that I might invite you two to dinner.”
Mads gasped as she made the offer, fretting over his clothes and hands.
“You’re the partner of a wandmaker. Wear stained fingers and calluses with pride.” She lifted her chin. “I like you. You complement Marquis far better than Baron.”
And as they finished tinning up the pecans in a few bygone cookie tins with some newspaper between layers, Marquis finally showed his face.
A victorious grin turned to confusion then delight as he greeted Morgana.
She gathered the pecans, gave Mads a kiss, and swept off with her son, only the tail end of her conversation piquing Mads’s ears on her way out.
“I like that one far better than Damien. Is he really who you want?”
No hesitation. The smile practically radiated in Marquis’s voice before the door shut. “I’ve had my fair share of dalliances, Mother, and not a one of them made me smile like he did.”
Marquis would be worth every twinge of pain to come.
Mads stared down at a cup of cold tea in his cupped hands; leaves clumped at the bottom. It wasn’t often they spelled words. He stared at them for the longest time before Marquis returned and leaned over his shoulder for a kiss.
“Ahh, Mother’s party tricks.” Marquis chuckled.
Mads blinked in surprise. “What’s it say?”
“‘Welcome to the family.’”