“I only wish you would let me take you somewhere. You deserve more than—” He gestured at the kitchen. The copper pots. The shelves of ingredients. “All of this, day after day. You deserve more than having a fae family with too much power force you to go somewhere, do something, you would rather not do.”
“Henry, it was not?—”
“I wish you knew how much I care for you.” He was closer now. She could not recall him stepping forward, but the distance between them had narrowed, and his voice had dropped into something warm and private. Earnest and sincere. That was what she was hearing, she told herself. “I think about you. I think about us. I?—”
His hand came up and he traced one finger along her forearm and downover her wrist. And this was Henry, she kept telling herself, just Henry, who liked paying her attention, who had always been generous with such liberties, and yet the shiver that coursed through her body was not the pleasant sort.
The back door opened.
They both looked around.
Kazrian came through it sideways, a large box in his arms, his gaze sweeping across the kitchen and?—
Lucie stepped clear of Henry in one quick motion, crossing to the counter on the other side of the room, the flour still clutched to her chest, praying with everything in her that Kazrian had seen nothing at all.
“Mr Stratton.” Kazrian carried the box to the small side table.
“Lord Rowanwood.” Henry’s voice was all warmth again. “Hard at it already, I see.”
“There is rather a lot to do.” Kazrian set the box down and turned, raking a hand through his hair. His gaze shifted from Henry to Lucie and back again.
“So I hear. Constantly.” Henry tilted his head. “I understand your grandmother forced poor Lucie along to Dreamland’s opening last night.”
Lucie stopped breathing. She met Kazrian’s eyes for one horrified instant before dropping her gaze and squeezing the flour bag even tighter.
Kazrian paused only as long as it took him to move back to the door. “I am not certain I would sayforced.” He pulled the lower half of the back door shut, leaving the top half open. Beyond him, the courtyard was bright with early sun. “Though my grandmother can be remarkably convincing when she sets her mind to a thing.” His gaze found Lucie’s across the kitchen, and he gave her a small, steadying smile. “She got it into her head that Lucie ought to see Dreamland for herself, and Lucie was too polite to refuse her.”
The breath went out of Lucie in a slow, silent rush.
“Ah.” Henry chuckled. “Politeness. Yes. I have noticed Lucie’s politeness extends generously toward some.” A beat. “Less so to others.”
“It is a brave soul who declines Lady Rivenna Rowanwood,” Kazrian said. “I speak from extensive personal experience.”
Henry laughed. “Well, one can hardly argue with that. But come now,” he went on, moving around the worktable and settling himself at Lucie’s side, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. “I should verymuch like to hear all about the place. I have only ever seen it from outside. Tell me everything. What did you make of it, Lucie?”
“Oh, it—it was not so very?—”
“Do not undersell it on my account.” His smile widened. “I want the full report. You too, Lord Rowanwood. You were there, I understand, escorting our Lucie.”
Lucie’s arms tightened around the flour bag. She was gripping it so hard now that she half expected the seam to give way entirely. She dared a glance at Kazrian.
His smile showed not a hint of strain. “It was my sister Rosavyn who was doing the escorting, I’m afraid, not me. She was most eager to show Lucie and her sister around. I spent a good portion of the evening with my brother, as it happens. He was keen to walk me through several of the structural changes he has made since my last visit. Lucie and her sister were free to explore at their leisure.”
This was true, Lucie noted, at least in part. Kazrian had been with Evryn when she bid him goodnight, and Evryn had already been drawing him away, pointing things out and making broad, sweeping gestures toward the enchanted sky with the same animated enthusiasm Kazrian himself wore when he was deep in an explanation of something that fascinated him.
“I understand there was a chocolate river,” Kazrian continued, his voice steady and unhurried. “Some enchanted boats. A great deal of whimsy and wonder. I imagine it is the sort of place that would not hold a great deal of interest for a man of practical affairs.”
Lucie stood there, saying nothing, and felt the whole kitchen draw tight around the three of them. She was contemplating launching away from the counter and hiding in the pantry until Henry saw fit to leave when Georgiana swept in from the front room mid-sentence.
“… and we shall be out of the ribbons again before the end of the week. Can you believe we have—” She stopped and took in the three of them, her brows drawing together at the sight of her brother. “Oh, Henry, you are still here.” She stood a little straighter. “Did you—were you not meant to be at the merchants’ hall this morning? I realize it is still early, but … the walk will take you some time, I believe? And I would not want you to be?—”
“Yes, Georgiana, thank you.” For an instant, Lucie saw something cold and sharp in Henry’s gaze. Then it was gone, and he was grinning, allwarmth restored. “You are quite right. What would I do without you, Georgie, forever keeping me to my schedule.”
He straightened his coat and turned to Lucie. “I shall see you soon, Lucie.” He gave her a small, private smile. “And I shall not forget that promise.”
“O-of course,” Lucie said.
He gave Kazrian a brief nod, then moved past Georgiana and through to the front of the shop. The bell above the door chimed once, and he was gone.
