Chapter 6 Raoul #2
“You’re right,” she said, as if she was actually carrying on a conversation with the hound. “He did seem genuine. And he offered to take me flying, which is remarkably generous considering how busy he must be. Though I should probably check if that’s actually practical or if he was just being—”
“I meant it,” I said, unable to listen to her second-guess my sincerity any longer.
She looked up, startled, her hand stilling on Fletcher’s head. “I didn’t realize you were listening. I was just—Fletcher and I were discussing—”
“How were you discussing anything with Fletcher?”
She glanced toward the smug-appearing hound. “He can’t speak, of course, but witches can communicate with their companions in their minds.”
“And he can actually tell you things?”
Her laugh rang out. “Of course he can. He’s as intelligent as anyone else.”
Interesting.
“You have complete access to the cave system and historical records.” I crossed to the door and retrieved the breakfast tray, carrying it to the table near the windows. “Feel welcome to go wherever you please. I’ll take you all over the castle today.”
Why in all the fates had I said that? I had enough to do without escorting my wife around my kingdom. Before I’d met her, I’d planned a quick tour before handing her off to one of my staff. Never seeing her again except at random meals or functions.
Then I’d met her.
“You don’t have to do that.” She rose to her feet. “I know you’re busy. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not.” I set the tray down and pulled out a chair for her. “You’re my wife. I want to spend the day with you.”
Curse me, but I did.
“Your work will benefit our agricultural communities and advance magical understanding. Why wouldn’t I support that?” This, I pushed out, trying to justify taking a full day to spend with my bride rather than pretending she didn’t exist.
She moved toward the table slowly, Fletcher padding behind her with his usual mournful expression. “Most people find my research boring. Or impractical. Or both.”
“Most people are fools.”
That earned me a startled laugh, and heat unfurled in my chest at the sound.
She sat in the chair I’d pulled out, murmuring thanks, and Fletcher positioned himself beside her with his eyes fixed longingly on the food platters.
I took the seat across from her, watching as she examined the breakfast selection with the same focus she applied to everything. Geoff had outdone himself, bringing fresh bread still warm from the oven, soft cheese, sliced fruit, eggs, honeycakes, and a selection of fruit.
“This is too much,” Adele said, but she was already reaching for the bread. “I can’t imagine you and I can eat all of this.”
“Fletcher will help.” I glanced at the basset hound, who managed to look both pitiful and optimistic at the same time. He nodded my way.
It was going to take some time to get used to intelligence in a creature most would dismiss as a simple pet.
Adele tore off a piece of honeycake and handed it to him. “Just a bit, love. You know what happened last time when you had too many.”
Fletcher made a sound that might have been disagreement, and Adele laughed.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“That it was only one incident and I’m being overly cautious.” She gave the hound a stern look. “You were sick for two days, and I felt terrible about it.”
Another whine, softer this time.
“Yes, I know you enjoyed them. That’s precisely the problem.” She turned to me. “He has no self-control when it comes to sweets. Last month I made honeycakes for a festival and left them to cool on the counter. I returned to find he’d eaten seven.”
I watched this exchange with growing fascination.
“Seven seems excessive,” I said.
Fletcher’s droopy eyes swiveled to me, and I could’ve sworn I saw indignation in them.
“He says they were small cakes,” Adele said, then added to Fletcher, “They were normal-sized cakes, and you know it.”
The hound huffed and flopped to the floor, laying his head on his paws, the picture of wounded dignity.
I smiled. “He’s quite the character.”
“He is.” Adele’s voice softened with affection as she leaned over to stroke his ears. “He’s been with me since I was ten. We bonded not long after…” She sighed. “After my parents died.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. Mine died when I was twenty-three. Ten years ago.”
Her hands stilled. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been horrible.”
“Devastating. They were traveling to negotiate a peace treaty with the northern dragon clans, but they went down in a storm.”
I didn’t know why I was telling her this. I never spoke about my parents’ deaths, not even to my closest advisors. But something about the way she’d shared her own loss made the words spill out.
“My parents died in a magical accident. They were experimenting. The spell worked, but the magical backlash killed them.” She shook her head. “Grandmother says they died doing what they loved. But I still wish they’d been more careful.”
“So do I,” I said. “About mine too. The storm was predicted. They could’ve waited for better weather. But my father was impatient to secure the treaty, convinced that delay would weaken our negotiating position.”
“And was he right?”
I considered the question. “Probably. The treaty he died trying to negotiate took me three years to conclude.”
She knew. She understood what it was to lose parents too soon, to carry the weight of their unfinished work, to wonder if things might’ve been different.
Fletcher shifted, making a low sound that drew Adele’s attention.
“I know,” she murmured to him, then glanced at me. “Fletcher says we’re both being too somber for breakfast. He suggests we eat before the food gets cold.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s pragmatic of him.”
“He has his moments.” She took a bite of bread, closing her eyes as she savored it. “Oh, this is wonderful. Your kitchen is remarkable.”
I watched her eat with the same enthusiasm she brought to everything else. No delicate nibbling or restraint. She simply enjoyed the food, making small sounds of appreciation that shouldn’t have affected me but absolutely did.
“So,” she said after swallowing. “Tell me about these records. Are they organized chronologically or by phenomenon? And what level of weather detail do they contain? Temperature readings, precipitation amounts, wind patterns?”
Relief flooded through me at the return to safer topics. I could discuss historical records without thinking about how her lips looked when she licked a drop of honey from her thumb.
“Chronologically, primarily. Each year has its own volume with daily entries. The detail varies depending on who kept the records. Some of my ancestors were more thorough than others.”
Her eyes lit up. “I still can’t believe there are daily entries going back three centuries. Do you know how incredible that is? With that sort of data, we could identify all sorts of weather patterns.”
I poured tea for both of us, noting how she took hers, with no milk, two sugars.
“Our agricultural planning has benefited significantly from the historical records. We can predict growing seasons, frost dates, and drought cycles. Of course, the records contain more than weather details. They discuss treaties and whatever my people might’ve been working on during that time. ”
“Even if it’s only a few details, it could be amazing.
Imagine what more we could do with proper weather analysis.
” She leaned forward. “I could develop predictive models that might extend accuracy to two, maybe even three years in advance. The economic implications alone are astounding.” She stopped, her expression shifting to one almost shy.
“I’m doing it again. Rambling about research. ”
“I don’t mind.”
The door to my chambers burst open with enough force to bang against the wall.
“Raoul, I need to talk to you about the Summit preparations because Niles is being an absolute nightmare about the seating arrangements and—” My younger sister, Demi, froze in the doorway, her amber eyes widening as she took in the scene.
Me, shirtless, sitting at the breakfast table.
Adele, wearing nothing but my tunic, her damp hair loose around her shoulders, a piece of honeycake halfway to her mouth.
Fletcher, looking up from where he’d been hoping for dropped food.
The breakfast spread between us, intimate and domestic in the morning light.
“Oh,” Demi said, her voice climbing an octave. “Oh my.”
I set down my tea, my mind racing through damage control scenarios. Demi was seventeen, smart, and didn’t hesitate to say absolutely anything that came to her mind.
“Demi, this is my wife, Adele Thornwick. Adele, my sister, Demi.”
Adele swallowed her bite of honeycake and smiled, unfazed by the interruption or her state of undress. “It’s lovely to meet you. Raoul’s mentioned… Actually, he hasn’t mentioned you yet, but I’m sure he was going to tell me how amazing you are pretty soon.”
Demi snorted. “That I doubt.” Her head tilted as she looked between us. “It’s nice to meet you, Adele.”
“You too.” Adele tucked the bite of honeycake into her mouth and spoke around it. “Want some breakfast? We have more than enough.”
“Honeycakes? Absolutely.” Demi dragged a chair over and sat, and the two women were soon chattering away about various topics.
I leaned back in my chair and watched them, realizing my life had been completely disrupted.
And I loved it.