The joy on Jack’s face vanished the moment he looked at the lord of the estate.
If Reagan wasn’t sitting, he would have pocketed his hands, which usually helped him appear less threatening.
“Hello, Jack,” Reagan said, keeping his tone light. The child frowned, probably uneasy by the dense access over the table. “Helping your parents at work?”
“Yes,” Jack replied before brightening again as he turned back to Jane. “I brought you something.”
“For me?” she asked, brushing a curl from the boy’s forehead. Jack flushed a deeper shade. “What is it?”
He lifted his hand and whispered a small spell. A red tulip shimmered into existence in his palm before he offered it to her.
That was when Reagan realised the boy didn’t fear him at all. Jack coveted his date. The little flirt had probably been besotted ever since he met her.
“It’s beautiful,” Jane said, taking the flower and lifting it to her nose. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome, miss. I can summon more if you would like.”
Someone would need to teach this child some really basic manners.
“Jack,” Reagan said patiently, leaning forward. The boy’s smile faded, replaced by boredom, which confirmed that he wasn’t remotely frightened. “Some would say it is rude to give a flower to a girl while she is having a meal with another gentleman.”
Jack considered this. Then, astonishingly, he turned to Jane and asked, “Is he bothering you?”
Jane pressed her lips together, clearly restraining a laugh while casting Reagan a delighted look. She returned her gaze to Jack. “No, he is not bothering me. And he is right. You should give this gift to a girl who is not already with someone. A younger one too.”
Jack frowned, glancing between them.
The nerve on this child.
“I want to give it to you,” he insisted.
“Well,” Reagan said with a warning tone, “you will need to choose someone else, because I chose this one first.”
Jane kicked him right in the shin beneath the table. Reagan stifled a grunt.
He was being civil, all things considered.
“Did you choose him?” Jack asked.
The question should not have tightened Reagan’s chest, yet it did. Perhaps it was the way Jane turned to him, her eyes searching his face, lashes soft above her freckles as though she was actually indulging the child.
She faced Jack again. “Yes, I chose him.”
Jack processed this, then his brows lifted. “You know, I am also hybrid-born.”
“Really?” Jane asked kindly.
“Yes. One-eighth human. Oma told me.”
“Who is Oma?”
“Grandmother,” Reagan supplied.
Jack lowered his voice. “She said I should not talk about it, but since you are a hybrid too, I thought you wouldn’t think it’s a bad thing.”
Jane’s expression wavered. Reagan felt as if he’d received a blow to the ribs.
“It’s definitely not bad,” Jane said softly. “I think it is very cool that we can say we have human and mage relatives.”
