CHAPTER 12 FIN AND FAUCHER
Faucher leaned back in his seat.
His body, for the first time in years, was completely relaxed. Even his old war wound in his knee felt as though it never existed to begin with. He was full, and at peace.
The dining hall was pleasantly quiet … as though they all had found the same tranquility.
“Holy—”
“Gods.”
“That was—”
“Unbelievable.”
The soft back and forth conversation took place between Faucher’s three sons as they stared at their emptied plates.
“I take back everything bad I ever said or thought about witches,” Piers announced breathily.
Faucher was too content to respond. He felt his eyes closing, as though he were about to nap right at the table.
The luncheon had been an experience none of them would soon forget.
The sauce over the roast had been subtle, and yet the flavors lingered in their mouths … Rosemary? Garlic? Was there something else? Even the vegetables had been seasoned to complement the meat … Faucher belatedly regretted not giving the roast chicken a try as well.
Then, dessert had come, and despite Faucher not being someone who typically enjoyed desserts or excessively sweet things, found himself unable to turn away the blueberry pie.
It was unfussy, and yet it was perfect for the chilly wintry day. A slice of simple comfort, but with an extravagant flavor. Buttery crust, with thick crystals of sugar sprinkled on the top of the pastry, the filling tasting as divine and fresh as though made with summer berries …
Despite feeling as stuffed as a turkey, Faucher debated another slice of pie.
“Pardon me, Leader Faucher?”
Jolting back to his senses, the Troivackian military man opened his eyes and found himself staring into the pale blue eyes of Finlay Ashowan.
“I was hoping I might convene with you in my chamber.”
Faucher didn’t even have the energy to curse his bad fortune. He had just started to seriously consider succumbing to a nice afternoon nap …
He cleared his throat. “Very well.”
Fin gave a gracious nod of his head and took his leave.
“Father … ?” Piers leaned over, his voice quiet.
Faucher looked at his son expectantly.
“Can we kidnap the duke and make him our own personal cook?”
Faucher gave a half smile and breathy laugh through his nose. “I’ll consider it.”
Piers grinned.
“I wonder if Lady Katarina can cook even a little bit as skillfully,” Conrad speculated with a dreamy haze in his eyes.
“I imagine she burns food more often than produces anything edible,” Dante guessed lazily. Even he hadn’t been immune to the enticing serenity the meal had created.
His brothers all bobbed and tilted their heads in agreement.
“Well … good luck father.” Piers yawned. “I am going to go rest in my chamber for a bit.”
Faucher would never admit it, but he had to fight the urge to scowl in jealousy at his youngest son. Instead, he turned to his wife, only to find her staring blankly at her plate, as though debating whether she could get away with licking it.
Briefly forgetting himself and smiling at her wide-eyed wonder, Faucher gently touched her arm.
“I’ll go meet with Lord Ashowan. What are you and Dana going to do this afternoon?”
Lady Nathalie jumped and began touching her hair as though trying to ensure her momentary lapse of focus hadn’t rendered her an outward mess as well.
“Ah, we … we will most likely take the dogs we didn’t walk this morning out for a stroll around the gardens.”
Faucher nodded. “Remember, don’t go anywhere without a guard or the dogs. A lot of people are angry with me for training Lady Katarina.”
The noblewoman bowed her head. “I know.”
Faucher reached out and clasped his wife’s hand before then standing and leaving the banquet hall to locate the house witch’s chambers.
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel worried about the upcoming discussion, but even if he was, he wasn’t sure he would be able to force himself to feel that way regardless. The meal had done too satisfactory a job of lulling him into a state that bordered on meditative, but whether that would still be the case after the discussion with the duke remained to be seen.
Fin sat in front of Faucher silently, the table between them bore a copper teapot that sat over a small stand with a flame below, keeping the drink warm. The fire on Fauchers’ right crackling sharply in the chill of the room.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Leader Faucher. I had a few things to ask you about, both in regard to my daughter as well as the presence of the devil. I believe His Majesty has already explained to you that you can be candid with me,” the redheaded man started politely.
Faucher gave a careful nod. He could see in the duke’s eyes that he was barely restraining a plethora of emotions.
“Fantastic. First and foremost, has Kat … has Kat hurt anyone while she’s been here?”
The military leader pondered the question while resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair and folding his hands together.
“She knocked out one of her fellow peers during a spar in self-defense, struck me once while overtaken with magic, attempted to murder another student, and during her most recent sparring match against Captain Orion’s chosen men, broke a few limbs of her first opponent under my direction. Her second opponent received a few bruises, and her last opponent received the most damage, though in all fairness, the brunt of that was from Lord Miller’s eldest son.”
Fin’s face paled. “Why did no one stop her training after her first time trying to kill someone?!”
“Because it was mostly in self-defense. Her magic, we’ve learned, feeds off intention and any magical ability directed toward her. She does not harm the innocent, and also … it is dangerous leaving her abilities untrained when that is what she is capable of doing.”
Fin swallowed with difficulty, his ethereal eyes slipping over to the hearth. “She says that she has been able to improve how she handles her power. Is that what you sincerely believe as well—that she is she getting better at controlling it?”
“Yes. She finds being physically active all day the most helpful for … what is it she calls it … ? Her magitch. That’s it.” Faucher grunted. “She has also been training on how to use her abilities in smaller doses so that they don’t become pent up. Since she has been absorbing more magical abilities as of late, she has noticed that her aura has been burning more often, and she needs more releases for it. Mr. Kraft is of the understanding that we have yet to find the safest way for her to drain the power.”
“What about Eric? How has he been about all this?”
Faucher froze. At first he debated trying to stay close-lipped about his whole experience with the prince to himself, but … given what the duke had revealed to everyone the other day at the meeting, and recognizing his fear as a parent, he relaxed his shoulders.
“Your Grace, permission to be blunt.”
“Of course—and, please, call me Fin” The duke gave a weary chuckle.
Faucher nodded to himself and let out a long breath.
“His Highness … when I first met him … was little more than a drunk who cared for nothing. He would occasionally stand up for Lady Katarina when someone spoke poorly of her, but in general, that was all he was.” Faucher paused, but when he glanced at Fin again and saw the tightness in the man’s eyes, he forced himself to continue speaking. “I would say things began to change between Ashowan— Sorry. Lady Katarina,” he corrected awkwardly.
Fin raised an eyebrow, and a mystifying smile sparked on his face at the accidental slip of casualness.
“Lady Katarina walked in when His Highness was having a soldier’s spell.”
The house witch’s shoulders pulled back, and his eyebrows rose.
“She was able to calm him down and call him back to himself, though he is still unaware this happened. Since then, the two of them have gravitated toward each other, and there was an understanding between them that not even Her Majesty was apprised of. Once they arrived in Vessa, His Highness was her biggest protector and advocate. More so than anyone else. He even got the former queen of Troivack banished from the court on her behalf as you might have heard. Most people who spent time with them knew the nature of their relationship, and as they grew closer, His Highness has seemed to improve. From what I hear, he has deepened his bond with Her Majesty, he attends meetings, he works all hours of the day and night … He has impressed a good many people. Though I would be lying if I said he did not still imbibe heavily on occasion.”
Fin nodded along, his gaze appraising the military man before him. He didn’t say anything for a while, his thoughts and feelings unclear, but Faucher didn’t fidget, and instead remained at ease.
“You think it’s a good match?”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t want my own daughter in it,” Faucher informed the duke gruffly.
Fin gave a sardonic laugh in agreement.
“But I think it’s better than the alternative of them ruining themselves trying to keep apart. For now, anyway.”
The house witch leaned back in his seat, his legs stretching out before him, and his gaze once again moving to the fire.
The two men sat in companionable silence for a spell of time.
Faucher was just beginning to feel drowsy again when Fin suddenly reached for the teapot and poured its contents into two cups.
He slid one over to the military man, who raised his hand. “I can’t say I’m someone who enjoys—”
“It’s moonshine,” Fin explained with a rueful smile.
Faucher gave a quick half smile of his own in response and accepted the cup with a rumble of approval and thanks.
“You more or less elaborated on things His Majesty has already said about Kat and Eric,” Fin began. “As a father to a daughter, I have no doubt you can imagine my feelings and thoughts on the matter.”
Faucher scoffed humorlessly. “I don’t envy you, that’s for Godsdamn certain.”
The redhead shot the man a flat look that actually reminded Faucher a great deal of Katarina.
“Thanks for that,” he replied sarcastically before taking a hearty gulp from his cup. “I don’t want to be the villain to their happiness. Especially when there are greater things to be worried about right now.”
Faucher remained silent.
“I know I also owe Eric an apology. Part of the reason he descended so far into darkness was that I failed him, and I seem to keep failing him.” Fin’s eyes saddened. “It was so much easier back when he was a boy and all I had to do was make him a raspberry tart, and he’d be right as rain again.”
Chuckling to himself, Faucher found himself nodding along. “I understand completely. My daughter used to only ever need a puppy to cheer up. Now she wants to take part in the military.”
“You gave her a puppy every time she was sad?” Fin laughed. “Gods, you must be overrun with them.” He took another drink, having only been jesting in his response.
“She has twenty-five dogs. It’s true.”
Fin sprayed the moonshine out of his mouth and turned to stare in shock at Faucher, who had color rising in his face. The house witch wiped his mouth in the stunned silence and flopped back into his chair.
He kept his hand over his mouth.
Faucher eyed him suspiciously. “I know your daughter well, and you bear many resemblances. I know you wish to laugh.”
Unable to refute the military man’s accusation, Fin lowered his forehead to his hand and succumbed to his chortles.
For whatever reason, Faucher didn’t mind.
When Fin had eventually settled back down, he looked over to his companion with a grin.
“Gods, there is nothing quite as humbling nor maddening as having a daughter, is there?”
Faucher wordlessly raised his cup in a toast.
Fin lifted his own, and the two drank.
The pair were once again partaking in the affable quiet, when Faucher turned with a raised eyebrow. “When is it your wife is set to arrive?”
All at once, Fin’s relaxed expression seized. He then looked at the military leader wide-eyed.
“Gods … Probably in the next five days?”
Faucher laughed. “Another fate of yours I do not desire for myself.”
Fin let out a groan and finished his drink. “You know, if you’re going to be so smug about it, the least you can do is keep me company while I drown my woes for the day. I think I’ve had it with being serious—at least until tomorrow morning.”
Faucher eyed the duke.
Usually such a request would send him bolting for the door with a growled excuse, however … Perhaps it was the fantastical food the house witch had prepared swaying his good senses, but … it actually sounded like a rather good time.
And so, the two men continued toasting and drinking well into the day, sharing stories of their families and life that had them tentatively forming what some could call a friendship.