CHAPTER 14 #2
My throat dried up at the offer. “I’d love that,” I said, reaching for the pot. She anticipated me, already pouring into a mug.
That was . . . surprising.
“Is it difficult for you, being surrounded by the mageborn?”
Sipping from my mug, I considered her, the first person to ask me that question. I debated whether to be honest in my answer and how she might take it.
“It’s difficult at times,” I admitted. “There’s so much I don’t know, and it puts me at a disadvantage.”
She tipped her head, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t quite read.
“I imagine it is. I hope Reagan isn’t the reason. He can be an ass, as I’m sure you know.” I huffed a laugh, which seemed to embolden her. “And Mountheim doesn’t help. It’s always so cold this time of year.”
My smile widened as footsteps approached.
“I remember why I don’t come here often,” Reagan said dryly, striding into the room, Coriander at his side. “Jane actually enjoys the cold.”
He sank into the seat to my right.
“You do?” Coriander asked, sliding into the seat to Alameda’s right. “We can’t stand it. Erisea needs at least one spot that’s sunny and warm during the winter.”
“Is that your garden?” I asked, glancing between them.
“My garden,” Alameda said, her tone prideful.
Coriander leaned back, grinning as if I’d just complimented him. “What did you think of the weather there?”
“Hot,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “Reagan was right. I’m from the north, more used to the cold.”
I was surprised that he had remembered.
Coriander shook his head. “And how is it? Working with Mountheim’s Lord?”
It sounded like a casual question. I cast a sideways glance at Reagan. He met my eyes, his chin propped on his hand, looking almost bored.
They had no idea of my situation or that the man beside me was more my captor than my lord.
I paused, searching for something I could honestly say.
“I’m impressed by him,” I admitted at last. “People in your positions usually have so much dedication, and it shows in Reagan. It’s commendable.”
And it wasn’t a lie. I would have lied, if necessary, but apparently, I had one genuinely good thing to say about him.
“Well, not everyone is like that, Jane. I can assure you,” Coriander commented, reaching for a mug.
Alameda made a face, as if to agree, then lifted a finger. “Breakfast?” she asked.
The next moment, a feast appeared on the table: a spread of bread, boiled eggs, cheese, jam, and mixed fruits. I took in all the platters, pointedly avoiding the gaze I could feel on me.
We were eating in no time.
Alameda told me about Erisea’s location.
The busy coastline made the sea a central part of their lives.
Coriander spoke of the region’s specialties and its trading harbour, which made me realise there were more trading posts in the country than I had known, though I suspected humans didn’t trade in them.
He described the main goods that passed through, one of which left me gaping.
“Elven dust?” I echoed, bemused. “What is it for?”
“It’s a substance that comes from a typical elven plant,” Alameda clarified. “We source it directly from Banfgaard. It’s known for easing migraines and mental strain, but many people use it for the high.”
“So, I take it you’ve never tried it?” Coriander asked, and I might have recognised mischief dancing in his tone.
“No, I can’t say that I have. Is it safe?” I asked.
“Not if you’re one to overindulge,” Reagan said, wryly arching his brows.
“In small amounts, it’s as dangerous as wine,” Alameda added.
“As riveting as this conversation is, I would like to discuss the reason Jane and I came,” Reagan said, leaning forward over the table.
“We’ll have time to talk about this later, but you should settle in first. You must be tired from flinging so far,” Coriander responded. “Besides, we need to give Jane a proper welcome to Erisea.”
◆◆◆
We left the dining room after the Barrows.
Reagan, who apparently already knew the way to the rooms we would be staying in, led us up a marble staircase. We were on the second floor of the castle’s wing, the hallway windows offering an angled view of a distant city.
“Alameda told me something interesting,” I said as we headed towards the rooms. “She said mage lands are usually commanded by two rulers, not one.”
I glanced in his direction just in time to see his eyebrows rise, the only sign of surprise. “Did she? I wonder why she would tell you about this.”
“I asked if they were married, and she mentioned the convention. So, is there a Lady of Mountheim I haven’t met? And by this point, I hope there isn’t. It would be very awkward to be living in her home.”
One side of his lips curled, yet his gaze remained fixed ahead. “No, there isn’t a Lady of Mountheim. Your manners are safe.”
We reached a cross passage where multiple corridors intersected. There were more staircases leading to higher floors, and on the top level, a glass arched dome reflected a few shy sunbeams.
“Can I ask why?” I said, wondering if I was being intrusive, but not letting it stop me. “Wouldn’t it be better to share the burden? Or has no one ever met your high standards?”
“Some have, but I guess you can tell how those worked out,” he said humorously.
I wondered why. There were aspects of him that could be considered appealing. If only he could master the art of being pleasant. Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps he simply expected his partner to bend to his will and handled it like a brute.
I hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose your customs can be just as complicated as finding a spouse in the human lands. It seems to be a universal struggle.”
I kept my steps swift and sure as Reagan peered at me over his shoulder. “Was it a struggle for you?” he asked with casual interest. “Was this something you were hoping to find in your human town?”
“Gods, no,” I laughed through my nose. “I mean, I didn’t have a significant other, nor was I looking for one in Ehrfurt.
But I enjoyed spending time with some men, you know, for the company.
” I shrugged, glancing at him and arching my brows, but Reagan gave no indication that he caught my meaning.
“To enjoy ourselves and things like that . . . You know what I mean.”
A beat later, a slow grin curved across his lips. “Do tell. I’m curious to hear what you think I know.”
My face heated at the teasing hunger in his voice. Icy realisation reminded me who I was talking to. Suddenly, I didn’t know why I had flaunted enjoying the company of other men.
He chuckled, amused, his hand rising to scratch his chin. “Jane Darling, what a minx you must be,” he jested.
Regret burnt through me as I chewed on the insides of my cheeks.
As we stopped at a room’s door, Reagan steered the conversation back to himself.
“The past few years haven’t been easy for Mountheim.
Finding its lady hasn’t exactly been a priority, especially since I have a capable staff to help run the estate.
” His expression remained neutral, his mouth parting as if he wanted to continue but hesitated.
“It’s not something I’ve allowed myself to pursue. ”
A subtle tightness crept into my chest at his answer. It was as if his whole life was about Mountheim. I debated asking for his reasons, but decided to leave it at that for now.
I gestured to the white door beside us. “Am I staying here?”
Reagan nodded as he pushed the door open. “You should rest while you can. We leave in an hour to visit the city with the Barrows. Dinner tonight will likely give us a chance to discuss the deals.”
His tone was brisk, but his eyes lingered for just a moment too long before he stepped aside. I gave a curt nod as I stepped into the room, letting my gaze sweep over it.
Beige walls were offset by white curtains billowing in a salty breeze.
A pale carpet stretched across the floor, leading to a massive bed draped in sand-coloured sheets, piled high with plush pillows.
Gold accents adorned the bed frame, the same ones on the closet and dresser.
In the far corner, a door stood ajar, and I presumed it led to the washroom.
It was brighter and perhaps fancier than the room I’d been given at Mountheim Hall, without the same moodier, cosier side.
“Do you like the room?” Reagan asked.
“It’s nice. Bright,” I said, my eyes darting towards the window.
“I’ll pick you up in one hour,” he said, his tone seemingly colder, though I might have imagined it.
“But of course, my lord,” I said with exaggerated reverence.
That earned me a wry smile. “That sounds unusually obedient coming from you.”
I gripped the wooden door. “Yes, well, I work for you now. I’m just a servant.”
I shut the door before he could reply, but the muffled sound of his chuckle still reached me inside the room, drawing a smirk from me.
When I turned toward the room and spotted the duffel bag with my clothes by the window, I walked over, and the view outside made my breath hitch. Beyond the castle grounds, houses lined the coast of the sea under a blue sky with a few darker clouds.
It wasn’t as cold as Mountheim, but not as warm as that garden that we arrived in, which made me realise that this was probably the weather in Erisea at the moment. The sea was dark green, its calm waves wetting the golden sand and retreating to the ocean.
The clothes that Cerridwen selected seemed appropriate for this weather, although not so emissary-like. I wouldn’t need thick stockings or sweaters here. I put on a red chiffon skirt that reached my ankles and a white blouse with elbow-length sleeves.
Exactly an hour later, I heard a knock on my door. Reagan was outside. His eyes flickered over me, examining the clothes I was wearing.
“What? Is there something wrong with this outfit?” I asked, looking down at myself. “I thought it was appropriate.”
He clicked his tongue. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m thinking,” he replied, his eyes drifting lazily. “How appropriate you look.”