“We should talk now,” I said.
His eyes searched mine, his mouth already parting despite the other ears in the foyer.
“Not here,” I said.
I veered down the left corridor, passing Cerridwen where she had appeared. She didn’t stop me. Finn would explain what had transpired in court soon enough.
Reagan’s steps followed close behind, the muted sound of our boots against the rugs the only thing breaking the silence until we reached the dining room.
I stopped at the long table, my fingers curling around the carved back of a chair.
The door clicked shut behind me. From the shift of shadow at the edge of my vision, I knew he stood only a few steps away.
“That’s why you were so sure,” I said. “And you didn’t think to tell me.”
I heard his hesitation before his answer. “I didn’t think it would be necessary to use that argument.”
“No. You didn’t want to have to ask.” I let out a shaky breath. “And I can’t even be angry, because you did exactly what I asked you to do.”
He made sure that nothing happened to Joy.
I couldn’t bring myself to face him. Looking into the storm that lived behind his eyes would only make it worse.
“Of course I didn’t want to ask yet,” Reagan said, matter-of-fact. “I saw your face when Cerridwen mentioned it. I can see it now. And you asked for time. I just don’t understand why the idea feels so unbearable to you.”
I turned then, incredulity filling my head. “You are not that dense,” I said, my temper flaring despite myself. His expressionhardened. “Do you want me to ask Hildegard for the results again?”
“It’s inconclusive, Jane,” he said calmly, stepping closer. “You had three days without the ring.”
He drew a breath, pulling the cloak from his shoulders. We were still wearing them. He draped his over a chair and rested his hands on his waist as I removed mine.
“It was the safest argument I had,” he continued. “If Malory had decided Joy was to be sent to an institute, there would have been no undoing it. She doesn’t second-guess herself, and she is not questioned. So when she mentioned the Healer’s Hall, I told her you would be Lady of Mountheim.”
The words settled heavily, and I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. It felt as if I had stepped into a part for a number I’d never practiced for.
The boil inside me eased just enough for another thought to surface. “What did she mean about a letter?”
Reagan pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and drew in a long, measured breath. He prowled the room, a crackle of energy sparkling from his fingers. “I have been receiving demands for a week,” he said reluctantly. “Expectations for how Mountheim should recover. One of them arrived with a list of potential matches.”
My chest tightened at the words, at the meaning ofmatches.
He let out a humourless huff, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “The man she mentioned is Alaister Quarrel. He’s a magister handling the estate’s recovery and, apparently, he decided I am too old to not be bonded. And this is the most pressing issue now that I’ve secured my position.”
The room seemed to spin as the implication sank in. Reagan’s face was etched with something grave, contemptuous.
“So this is it?” I asked.
His eyes dropped back to me, some of that frustration seeming to eddy from his expression. “No. This is me telling you we don’t have the luxury of time.”
“And if I cannot wield,” I forced myself to say, “you will have to choose someone else.”
He exhaled softly. “You are not the only one who began late,” Reagan said, stepping closer. “You are just untrained. But if you don’t want this, then tell me now.”
My hesitation had nothing to do with not wanting it. There was a craving in me to learn, to study their customs, their crafts. But could I meet Ladyship expectations? Besides, accepting this role would paint a target on my back, and on Joy’s. I had been targeted for far less.
“If I can prove it,” I asked, “that would make me hybrid-born, wouldn’t it? That may not matter to you, but it matters to some people.”
Dangerous people.
