“Is she speaking with you?” Cerridwen asked me. “It’s important that she has someone to talk to about her situation.”
“Yes, she speaks with me, but I can barely help when I am just as lost.”
“Oh.”
The sound came from the doorway.
We turned toward it. Its owner stood tall, chin lifted, carrying himself with that haughty poise. Varian removed his cloak and handed it to a worker before striding into the room, his black velvet suit settling tidily over his shoulders.
My attention locked on his face. A new scar cut across it, jagged and red, the skin rough along its path from cheek, across the bridge of his nose, to the other side.
“It seems you were not properly announced before walking in,” Reagan said sternly. “Was no one at the entrance?”
Varian circled the table with a breezy pace. “They offered, but I told them not to worry. Family doesn’t need to be announced.”
Instead of taking a seat at the far end, Varian pulled out the one Joy had vacated. Right next to me.
My back stiffened, my heart thudding pathetically fast.
“Here,” Reagan said, motioning to the chair Barracus had left.
Varian paused mid-motion, glancing toward his cousin. “So close to the head,” he said, a trace of reluctance in his tone.
I risked only a side glance, regretting it immediately as I felt his eyes drilling into me.
“We want to start sooner rather than later, Varian,” Reagan said, his tone colder now, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the man.
I lifted my glass, taking a long swallow of water.
“Wine, anyone?” Gwin asked, summoning a bottle and glasses to the table. She poured one for me, giving a look that made me reach for it at once, willing the liquid to calm my racing heartbeat.
“Hand me a glass,” Cerridwen said austerely, extending her hand.
I poured another for myself.
Varian’s face dragged me back to that night. Watching him sit there as if nothing had happened filled my chest with a suffocating rage. I had to fight the urge to rise and leave.
“I realise this is unexpected,” Reagan said, resting his forearms on the table as though none of this bothered him. “There’s a lot of grudges between us, so consider this a peace offering. You were excluded from estate matters because we’venever worked well together. But the magisters in Ashenagth saw fit to assign your sentence, and it was…brought to my attention that your insight might serve Mountheim.” Reagan leaned towards his cousin, the movement slow yet threatening. “Let me be clear. You are here because I’m willing to try, not because of your past actions. If you challenge me again, or disrespect anyone in this room, this ends immediately. Accept these terms, and you may join the staff. I want peace between our families.”
His words sounded genuine, not just to me, but to everyone else in the room, judging by their sceptical looks, which Varian noticed as well.
“Well, that’s surprising,” he said, his mouth curling, the new scar stretching across his face with the motion. “But there is nothing I want more. I’m glad we can move past what happened and build anew. I look forward to helping Mountheim rebuild in any way I can.”
Gwin huffed a laugh, teeth flashing. “Aren’t you an angel?”
Varian regarded her for a long moment, but she only tilted her head, daring him.
The air thickened until Varian turned back to Reagan. “I, Varian Ilya, recognize you, Reagan, as rightful Lord of Mountheim.”
Reagan’s expression stayed unreadable.
Varian’s brow quirked. “Should I bow?”
Reagan exhaled. “Not necessary. I don’t need anyone bowing or on their knees to feel like a lord.”
Gwin and I exchanged a glance. She didn’t bother hiding her amusement.
Cerridwen cleared her throat. “Welcome to the staff, Varian. Mind that what is discussed here is confidential estate business.”
