Chapter 47
Reagan
She sat in the worn booth in the Wandering Cup, her limbs draped loosely while they waited for the complimentary meal the owners of the bakeshop had promised them in what felt like an age ago.
A week had passed since her father had been sent to the human lands. A week in which Jane grieved a man who still breathed but no longer knew her. Reagan told himself this was him attempting to coax her spirit out of that quiet melancholy.
Jane hummed, her brows lifting. “How much will the ceremony cost?”
Their staff had begun planning their bonding to take place in a few days, the moment Jane would officially choose him and take the role of Lady of Mountheim.
“An obscene amount,” Reagan replied, pleased by the way her eyes widened.
“Is this how you court a woman on a date?” She tipped her glass toward him. “Boasting about citizens’ tax money to show how wealthy you are?”
A laugh built in his chest. “Would that work with you?”
She sipped, watching him through the curve of the rim, then set the glass aside. “I think it would need to be an unreasonable amount to make you look good.”
Reagan feigned offense and was rewarded by a smile gracing her lips. “Well, I’m also the only one in the estate who can wield twelve times my body weight.”
“So you would claim you are rich and powerful?” she asked, as though he were a cliché of a man.
He narrowed his eyes. “Some would say that, yes.”
She pressed her lips together, unimpressed, which only agitated him further.
“What do you think I should say when I am courting you?” he asked, frustrated by how much he wanted to know.
Her smile appeared again, briefly, her head tilting in that way that made her so alluring. He could not look away.
“You should let me see that you are brave and generous without being arrogant about it,” Jane suggested. “And the fact that you are not painful to look at would also help.”
He leaned back, arms resting on the back of the booth, grinning like an idiot. Even if he thought that was partly untrue, he didn’t rebut. It drew out an actual chuckle.
“You would not win me over on the first date,” she went on. “But eventually, you would make me feel safe and loved.”
Something tightened in his chest, like a sense of triumph. He opened his mouth to answer, but a small figure appeared at their table.
“Hello,” the boy said shyly, his smile aimed entirely at Jane.
Her expression transformed. Her smile deepened, warm enough to stir a whole lot of feelings in Reagan’s marrow.
“Hi, Jack,” she greeted, recognising Daria and Onorio’s nine-year-old son, the boy she had rescued during the last Aurora Rite.
“May I sit with you, miss?” Jack asked, cheeks reddening. He didn’t even glance at Reagan.
“Of course,” Jane answered gently, sliding aside. “Do you remember Reagan?”
The joy on Jack’s face vanished the moment he looked at the lord of the estate.
If Reagan wasn’t sitting, he would have pocketed his hands, which usually helped him appear less threatening.
“Hello, Jack,” Reagan said, keeping his tone light. The child frowned, probably uneasy by the dense access over the table. “Helping your parents at work?”
“Yes,” Jack replied before brightening again as he turned back to Jane. “I brought you something.”
“For me?” she asked, brushing a curl from the boy’s forehead. Jack flushed a deeper shade. “What is it?”
He lifted his hand and whispered a small spell. A red tulip shimmered into existence in his palm before he offered it to her.
That was when Reagan realised the boy didn’t fear him at all. Jack coveted his date. The little flirt had probably been besotted ever since he met her.
“It’s beautiful,” Jane said, taking the flower and lifting it to her nose. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome, miss. I can summon more if you would like.”
Someone would need to teach this child some really basic manners.
“Jack,” Reagan said patiently, leaning forward. The boy’s smile faded, replaced by boredom, which confirmed that he wasn’t remotely frightened. “Some would say it is rude to give a flower to a girl while she is having a meal with another gentleman.”
Jack considered this. Then, astonishingly, he turned to Jane and asked, “Is he bothering you?”
Jane pressed her lips together, clearly restraining a laugh while casting Reagan a delighted look. She returned her gaze to Jack. “No, he is not bothering me. And he is right. You should give this gift to a girl who is not already with someone. A younger one too.”
Jack frowned, glancing between them.
The nerve on this child.
“I want to give it to you,” he insisted.
“Well,” Reagan said with a warning tone, “you will need to choose someone else, because I chose this one first.”
Jane kicked him right in the shin beneath the table. Reagan stifled a grunt.
He was being civil, all things considered.
“Did you choose him?” Jack asked.
The question should not have tightened Reagan’s chest, yet it did. Perhaps it was the way Jane turned to him, her eyes searching his face, lashes soft above her freckles as though she was actually indulging the child.
She faced Jack again. “Yes, I chose him.”
Jack processed this, then his brows lifted. “You know, I am also hybrid-born.”
“Really?” Jane asked kindly.
“Yes. One-eighth human. Oma told me.”
“Who is Oma?”
“Grandmother,” Reagan supplied.
Jack lowered his voice. “She said I should not talk about it, but since you are a hybrid too, I thought you wouldn’t think it’s a bad thing.”
Jane’s expression wavered. Reagan felt as if he’d received a blow to the ribs.
“It’s definitely not bad,” Jane said softly. “I think it is very cool that we can say we have human and mage relatives.”
That notion of children still hiding themselves was not something Reagan had expected to hear, but it made sense. The entire estate was still recovering from Clodagh Foley’s murder. The sentiment shouldn’t have surprised him at all.
It was possible he was clinging to every past attempt to cleanse the estate of that line of thinking, but the insidious fear of being a hybrid-born was probably more present than ever.
In that single moment, he saw an honest picture of Mountheim, stripped of the idealism he had once painted for Jane.
“Jack, what are you doing there?” Onorio’s voice came as he hurried over with their meals. “Apologies, My Lord. We lost track of him. I hope he is not bothering you.”
“He is,” Reagan said as Jane answered, “Of course not.”
Onorio gave a low laugh as he placed the dishes on the table.
Jane glared at Reagan.
“Jack, say goodbye then come inside.”
“See you, miss,” Jack said, sliding from the booth. He shot Reagan a glower that held surprising determination. Reagan snorted.
“They are afraid to say he is hybrid-born,” Jane murmured once the boy and father were gone.
“It has been a while since I heard that,” Reagan said. “But this reality won’t change unless we dismantle the Order. Or unless we enforce real punishments. We haven’t found the murderer of the Foley girl. Everyone is still afraid.”
Her gaze drifted from where the child had been to him. She nodded slowly, still thoughtful.
“I spoke to Malory about it,” Reagan added.
He had refused to burden Jane with this topic over the last week.
“I told her everything,” he continued. “Every unresolved case about the disappearance of hybrids and the complacency of the courts. I told her we suspect the Order is behind this. We have the locations of a few Scion hideouts, and that our patrollers will be tracking them.”
Jane stared, eyes widening. “And what did Malory say?”
“She will help build the case. She tried to hide it, but she was disturbed by the lack of punishment for what happened to you and every other unpunished transgression I told her about. She has an interest in this direction.”
His face was solemn, and Jane narrowed her eyes. “But…”
“This won’t be resolved quickly. It will take years,” he admitted. “We could ban the Order of Scions, and others would simply form under a different name. Change their speech a little and continue.”
She considered this, her gaze fixed on the tulip.
“But it’s a start,” Reagan said.
“Do you think dismantling the Order will help end the hatred and injustice against hybrids and humans?” she asked.
“Yes. We challenge the differences in how these groups are treated. We demand that the laws of the mage folk apply equally. We begin a rebellion.”
Her lips twitched. “Can you call it a rebellion if a Mage Lord starts it?”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t define the laws.
And I didn’t say I would start it. There are many, better people to spearhead it.
People who have rallied before and will also choose better names to call this movement.
What matters is the purpose, which is that we make this estate a safe place for them to rally and focus first on their protections. ”
“Which should be the bare bloody minimum,” she added, sighing. “Do you think the mageborn would rally behind it?”
“Some will. The hybrids certainly will. And we’ll find more. We choose trusted people to be the public faces. Meanwhile, you and I work to force action on the magisters’ side.”
“Do they change the laws? People like Malory?”
“There will be phases to this. A petition with enough signatures would force magisters to examine it. After that, we negotiate. In the best case, there will be arguments from the Order, campaigns, audiences. In the worst, violence.” He leaned back, already picturing the insufferable people they would have to stomach.
“We may feel compelled to tear our ears off. But I’m good at intimidating.
You’re good at deceiving. We will make a formidable team. ”
She looked at him through lowered lashes. “That sounds like a good foundation. Deceiving and intimidating.”
He shrugged. “Only the ones who need encouragement.”
Reagan finished his meal, pretending not to notice the way she slowed, her gaze drifting to the tulip as if absorbing the idea.
“What do you think?” he asked finally, his voice quiet but eager. “Would you like to change the world with me, Jane love? Is this a worthy use of your time?”
She rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her. Her expression grew more contemplative, and he guessed she was thinking of her family.
Jane sighed, turning to him again. “I suppose it’s not about wanting it. We have to, and hope we can make a small difference so that in the future, children won’t have to lie.”
Reagan, loving her all the more, nodded. “They won’t.”