CHAPTER 9
Finnegan left to make the arrangements on his schedule before he would head to the fair. We were supposed to meet so I could give him the same instructions my father had given me. I just hoped it was enough.
“Would you walk with me?” Reagan’s voice reached me just as I was about to leave.
I turned to find he was the only one left in the room, his expression blank, revealing nothing.
“I’d rather not,” I replied, heading toward the door, but he stepped into my path.
“I won’t bite.” He smirked, his arms tucked behind his back as he stood a safe distance away.
He saved your life. I’d figured the chances of him hurting me now were slim.
“Fine,” I said, following as he led the way out of the room.
The corridors were quiet. None of the castle’s mages were in sight.
“Do you feel any symptoms from the attack?” he asked.
“No. Should I have any symptoms?”
“No, their bite doesn’t have side effects as long as they don’t drain all the blood from you, but still.” He bobbed his head to the side, as if he were making a point. “You were bitten, so we should check.” He gestured to my neck, stopping in the hallway. “Can I take a look?”
I adjusted the round neckline of my sweater, one of my own, pulling it just beneath the marks. I’d seen them after bathing, and they seemed to be healing.
He leaned closer, though not as much as he had that night, when he cleaned the blood and dirt from my skin. The memory of his tongue trailing over his lip was still fresh in my mind.
I dropped my gaze from his face, letting go of the neckline.
“The arm and the ankle are the same. I don’t feel any pain.” I cleared my throat, pulling up my sleeve.
He kept his arms behind his back as he scanned the wound. “It looks fine. No ugly reactions then.”
Reagan resumed his walk, and I followed.
“I haven’t thanked you. For saving my life.” Nor did I know if I should, since it seemed he’d only done so by a judge’s order.
He glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Are you just pointing it out or actually thanking me?”
I blinked. Slowly. “Thanking you. For that, and for asking Finn to attend the fair for me.”
He came to a halt, face stunned, and I let out a breath so I wouldn’t show him my annoyance in the most obvious way.
“Zara’ll wake from the dead,” he said, actually seeming surprised. Whatever that meant. “You’re welcome, Jane Darling.”
There. I’d shown my gratitude, even though I thought the words might be clogged in my throat.
My attention drifted to this part of the castle, with far larger rooms and hallways, less frequented than the other spaces.
“This place is enormous,” I murmured as we entered a vast hall, its grandeur amplified by double staircases sweeping upward to the floors above. Ancient, yet bathed in the bright daylight spilling through the windows. To live here . . . Perhaps we wouldn’t even cross paths as often.
“You worked in a bookshop then?” he asked, clearly piecing it together from our earlier conversation.
Perhaps now he would pick up where Finnegan had left off, trying to pry into my motives for trespassing on his land. If the fair wasn’t proof that I had no intention of being here, I didn’t know what was. And in any case, I had no reason to lie.
“Yes, a small one.” Pember & Quill now felt like a distant reality.
I would not return from the one-month leave I took for the fair.
It was for the best, I supposed, considering I would take over Father’s business.
Joy would be suspicious if she discovered that I’d never given them my notice, but she didn’t know anyone there.
They’d probably send my final pay cheque by post, which shouldn’t raise any alarms.
“What do humans like to read?” His tone was neutral, devoid of emotion.
My brows furrowed at the unexpected question, and I wondered if he was trying to lower my guard. “I can’t speak for all humans, but I mostly read mysteries. Sometimes, romances.”
“So you like romances?” he drawled.
I shrugged. “You brought me here to ask about my job?”
“Sure. I’m a curious person,” he replied, and actually smiled. A cryptic gesture, designed to unsettle me. He pressed on with another question. “What is your father’s illness?”
I heaved a breath. “He deals with chronic blood sugar imbalances. It’s been getting worse lately.” I watched that previous smile fade.
“What symptoms is he experiencing?”
“Pain in his leg sometimes, but mostly fatigue.” And that numbness now.
“Are you and your sister attending to his health?”
I wasn’t sure what had prompted this line of questioning, but I had no objection to answering.
If anything, it might help him understand why I was so intent on returning to my family.
Perhaps . . . I would really have to stay here.
And if I did, with no other way out, I wouldn’t hesitate or let pride stop me from asking for help if it came to that.
“He has a physician in our town, but on a daily basis, yes. Joy and I manage his care. Well, she’s managing it at the moment.” I noticed a brief furrow in his brow before it vanished. He was listening intently. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as I’d thought.
“If you think they need anything, go to Cerridwen or Finnegan,” Reagan said. “They can make sure any resources are sent to them.”
In other words, don’t bother him. Noted. It was about as much support as I could hope for from him, I supposed, and still, it caught me off guard.
My gaze lingered on him as we reached the end of the hallway and stopped in front of what seemed to be just a plain wall. Reagan placed his palm on it and waited.
Gradually, straight lines appeared on the surface, rising above our heads, the colour deepening into a rich brown, taking a tall, arched form. They grew larger and more distinct against the stone surface until they fully materialised before us. Double doors.
“That’s . . .” I began, meeting his eyes. “Curious.”
What I really wanted to say was incredible, impressive. But it sounded too much like a compliment.
“We’re here. If you enjoy reading, you might like this.”
The room had a grand, probably three-metre-high arched window on one wall. Shelves filled with books stretched from floor to ceiling, overflowing and crowding every available space.
My eyes widened as I took in the endless rows of tomes.
A long ladder was positioned against the wall, allowing access to the tallest shelves.
A fireplace was lit in a corner, making the room pleasantly warm.
Plush, dark blue sofas stood in front of the window, a cherrywood desk with books piled on it was at the centre, and bright spotlights dotted the ceiling.
Outside, the snow-capped mountains guarded the city resting at their feet.
“Is this a library?” I asked, still marvelling at the stunning space.
“It’s a study where we usually do research and keep important papers locked away. Hence why the room is hidden. But the books—” He cut off as he reached my side, staring at me.
I hadn’t realised I was gawking, even smiling, until I saw the utter bewilderment on his face. It threw him off, it seemed.
“That’s a beautiful room,” I said.
He gave me a quick once-over. “It looks like you don’t hate it,” he said in mild disbelief. “You can use this space whenever you want. Might as well take some books too. Maybe that will convince you that staying here is not so bad.”
I’d halted after a few steps, spinning to face Reagan, who wore a satisfied grin. Pleased with himself.
“Is that what this is about? Do you want to keep me entertained so I won’t try to escape again?”
He settled his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “It’s entertainment. That’s all.”
He resented my presence and was more concerned about me endangering the mages if I tried to escape again. A far more plausible reason to keep me distracted.
Does it matter? I asked myself. It shouldn’t. I should just be glad about this.
Yet, I found myself saying, “Isn’t it easier to just give me a draught too? To keep me from running?”
He flattened his mouth and turned sideways, raking a hand through his dark chestnut hair.
“Maybe it would be easier,” he said, voice tight with frustration. “Perhaps your little human mind is too limited to recognise when someone is showing manners. Or maybe you’ve already decided I cannot be trusted. Right? Based on the insightful assessments I’m sure you’re making. Which is it?”
I snorted, partly amused by how easily the mask had slipped. “Ironic, coming from someone who threatened me and forced me to send a draught to manipulate my family.”
A gentle wind skimmed my neck, my pulse. All windows closed.
“And stop that.”
His gaze narrowed, hard, his tone eerily calm, but the wind retreated.
“Well, I’m not manipulating you, am I? That should tell you that we don’t wield our power recklessly, without regard for its consequences.
We don’t influence someone’s mind without consideration.
Without understanding the violation of doing that.
We act only when there’s a genuine need. If you bothered to ask.”
His tone was pointed, cold yet seething.
I looked away the second his words hit their mark. I was assuming the worst.
They were trying to be . . . accommodating? They couldn’t change my situation any more than I could. Yet he offered to help. Offered this room. A peace offering.
I let out a breath. “Fine,” I muttered, noticing the way he lifted his chin. “You’re not manipulating me. But it’s not like I don’t have a reason to be concerned. You did threaten me.”
Reagan nodded. I was surprised he didn’t dismiss it this time, like he’d done when Cerridwen had asked.
“I understand what I said before.” His voice was lower, softer, as he took cautious steps toward me. “But you have my word that I will protect you, not harm you. Nor will anyone in Mountheim Hall.”
I stood in place, letting him approach until he was a scant step from me.
“It would help if you didn’t flash your teeth and claws at me again,” I said coolly, trying to be civil about this.