“A diviner can see the threads before they happen and long after they happened,” Cerridwen explained. “We can ask Laerune.”
“What if,” Reagan said coolly, his eyes roaming the ceiling as if brewing an idea, “Laerune worked with Jane to do it?”
I stared at him, certain my confusion was written on my face. “Why? She’s the expert.”
“That’s why you should do it together.”
There was always a purpose behind the paths Reagan laid lately, and this one was easy enough to read.
“You want me to use my lessons with Laerune to get the proof that I can wield my power at will,” I guessed.
He tapped his nose twice in confirmation and refilled his glass. I peered down at my arm, at the sentence mark etched there in a pale red line. Perhaps Malory would release me from my sentence with that proof.
I had to try, and with this proof resting on me, I would have to be really focused. I couldn’t spend most of my time by Father’s beside if I wanted to see this through.
Barracus cleared his throat. “That was fine work, Atkus. I’ve decided to skip the next meeting, not to give Varian a chance to question our defences.” He turned to Gwin. “I suggest you stay away as well.”
“You, yes. Her, no,” Reagan replied. “Varian isn’t stupid. If we have nothing to report, he will suspect the meeting serves another purpose. We need to share something harmless.”
Gwinifer rolled her eyes.
“Won’t he suspect your invitation anyway?” I asked. “He knows how much you despise him.”
Reagan said nothing.
Gwin answered instead. “He might think the debt is paid.”
I frowned. He wasn’t imprisoned. “How could it be paid?”
A look passed among the staff, one I could not decipher. Cerridwen’s mouth pressed thin. Whatever it was, she didn’t approve.
Before they could answer, two maids and a manservant entered the room, pushing silver-laden trolleys to gather the used plates.
“Thank you, Rhea,” Reagan said to the maid reaching for his cutlery.
The remnants of dinner were usually summoned away, but sometimes it was done without magic. Soon, the polished table gleamed beneath the chandelier, and Barracus accompanied the maids out of the room.
“I’m going to check on Father,” Joy murmured as she rose.
“Alright. I’ll come there after this,” I told her, catching her faint nod as she made for the door.
Finnegan’s eyes followed her, the way they always did.
When she was gone, I turned to him. “What do you think she’ll do?” My voice came out dry, laced with reproach. “Hurt you if you stop watching her for a moment?”
Finn’s mouth parted, as if he had only just realised I was speaking to him. “No. Jane—”
“You didn’t treat me like this when I came here. She’s different, yes, but that doesn’t make her dangerous. You just don’t understand her fear.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“I don’t think she’s dangerous,” he said, slower now, uncertain. “I just don’t know what to make of her. She only speaks with you. Is she even alright?”
“No,” I answered. “She is not alright. She got pulled out of the life she knows, was told she is something she never heard of, did things that scare her, and has to see her father lying in an infirmary bed. She needs time to process everything, and I would appreciate it if you stopped looking at her like you think she will snap.”
He hesitated, seeming to weigh the frustration I made no effort to hide.
“I was not looking at her in that way,” Finn answered cautiously. “I understand how it feels to be singled out, and not in a good way.”
I sank back into my chair. The caution in his voice told me I might have overreacted.
