“Yes. With my mother. It was—is—one of my fondest memories.”
Gresham took a determined sip of his soup. Adelaide’s mouth opened and closed. Briar couldn’t determine if his praise had been well received. He didn’t understand how it could be interpreted badly.
Gresham dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Son, I really think we should speak about this—”
“No,” Linden said coldly.
“But darling, this engagement, this affair, it’s all been so sudden,” Adelaide said.
“No more abrupt than your own engagement,” Linden returned. “How soon was I born? Six months after your wedding?”
Adelaide’s attention shot to Briar, then back to Linden, a look of mortification melting into appeasement. “Maybe your father’s correct. We should discuss this alone.”
It had struck Briar as odd that they continued to bring this up in front of him. From the sounds of it, Linden had never given them the opportunity to speak privately, forcing them to engage him with an audience in the hopes they wouldn’t raise the topic at all.
“I already told you there’s nothing to debate,” Linden said. “Briar and I are in love. We’re a good match. That should be enough for you.”
Gresham slammed a hand on the table so hard the bit of bisque left in his bowl splashed. “Dammit, Linden, we hardly know this man! We don’t know how he might—”
Linden’s hand clenched into a fist, and Gresham stopped abruptly. A horror-struck look crossed his face, which purpled with unuttered frustration. His moustache bristled.
Briar’s insides froze despite the heat of the meal.
Adelaide looked between them, a hand to her breast.
“Oh, stop! I wish you wouldn’t.”
“You both,” Linden growled, “are the ones who insist upon calling my judgment into question ateveryopportunity. My relationships, my choice in career, the way I conduct myself with the public—you’ve never approved, and I don’t expect you to start. Your opinion of Briar is noted but irrelevant. You can either learn to like him or continue to air your misguided sentiments, but do so safe in the knowledge that mine won’t change.”
Adelaide gave a shaky nod. Gresham choked, hardly breathing, but finally nodded, too. He inhaled sharply, the room silent enough they could all hear it.
“Good.” Linden’s hand unclenched to pick up his spoon again. “Ah, it’s gone cold.”
It ended that conversation. Briar was almost sorry for Linden’s parents.
When dinner was finally over, and they all got up to go, Briar noticed the red fish was missing from the aquarium.
There was a bathroom down the hall from Linden’s master suite. It was Briar’s now. Linden had an en suite to himself.
Briar’s bathroom was palatial. He considered soaking in the tub, but he couldn’t figure out what the different knobs did, and given his curse, he decided not to risk drowning. He showered and tied one of the fluffy towels around his waist. In the mirror, his reflection was a shadow of himself. His ribs showed. The inky tithes covered so much more of him than before.
He touched the one on his chest, the one linked to Rowan’s charm. He’d come knowing that, if something happened, it would alert him thatRowan was in danger. But what if the distance prevented it? Or the wards around Coill Darragh, around this estate, blocked it?
A new toothbrush had been provided for him. The toothpaste came from a crystal pump. He’d accidentally used the one that distributed soap first.
“It’s going to take some getting used to,” he told Vatii.
She shuffled along the marble rim of the sink. “I don’t know if I want us to get used to it.”
“You were the one always telling me not to mess around with Rowan. That I needed to embrace my destiny, all that. Now you don’t want to get used to it?”
Vatii bowed her head, chagrined. “I know. I’ve tried to guide you down the right path, but the more time we spend with Linden, the more I wonder if I’ve done right by you, or if I’ve given you bad advice.” She hopped across the counter and nudged his hand with her beak. “I’m so sorry, Briar. I’ve failed you.”
Briar’s anger subsided as quickly as it came. “It’s not your fault, Vatii… I’m an adult. I’m past the point where I can blame my mentors and teachers or whoever else for my decisions.”
She hopped onto his wrist and sidled up his arm to nuzzle his cheek. “I’m still sorry.”
He sighed. “Me too.”
