Finn recovered with a grin. “I didn’t realise you were watching so closely.”
“What is he doing?” Jane murmured.
Joy lowered her gaze to the bed again. “Please go lie to someone else,” she said flatly, her fingers curling into her sleeve.
Finn stared at her.
Not sure he knows what he’s doing, Reagan thought, but kept it to himself. Finn had always been interested in puzzles.
At last, Finn inclined his head and stepped out of the ward. When he returned, his gaze flicked between Reagan and Jane before settling on her.
“Have you decided?” he asked. “Are you coming with us?”
“Not this time,” Jane said, her eyes intent on him, as if she were weighing him.
It was enough for Finn to shot Reagan a questioning look, and just because his friend had been a prick earlier, Reagan decided to have a little fun.
He leaned slightly behind Jane, pursed his mouth, and shook his head slowly at his emissary, silently mouthing,Behave yourself.
Chapter 18
Jane
At the foot of the staircase in the entrance foyer, Joy seemed to take the measure of Elaith Tarsis before leaving for her tutoring session.
I’d requested separate rooms to be prepared for us, knowing we would soon be parting ways for the next sessions. For a moment, I lingered on Elaith’s magenta eyes. On the smile he offered Barracus Crow, who had just arrived with his partner and left the foyer with a brief nod to us.
It was strange to imagine Barracus sharing any kind of bond, but he was far too reserved for me to pretend I knew him at all.
After leaving Joy and Elaith in another chamber, a maid from the larger Hall’s staff named Rhea guided Laerune Xanthos and me through the corridors, eventually ushering us into a room furnished with a cherrywood desk and two blue sofas facing one another. I remembered her as the woman with scale-textured skin I’d only greeted a few times. Now her skin was golden smooth beneath an olive dress, her features suggesting someone a few years my senior.
“I’ve never been in this room,” I said to Rhea as we lingered at the threshold. “What is it used for?”
“This one is rarely used,” she replied primly. “This wing is accessible to guests in case the Lord’s staff requires a place for private conversations. Ms Cobweb and Mr Crow are the only ones with claimed rooms.”
“Doesn’t Reagan have an office here?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Lord Reagan prefers to use the common chambers in the private wing, and I believe he handles all businesses there.”
“Quite unusual for a Lord,” Laerune commented, her velvet robe whispering over the floor. From all the tutors we had met, she was the only one who hadn’t taught him.
“I don’t think he likes working alone for too long,” I said.
Whenever I had seen him working by himself, it was in the dining room, where anyone might interrupt him at any moment. It made sense that he would not isolate himself, considering his role. Still, I found myself wondering if he avoided being alone with the work that already set him apart from most people.
“Thank you, Rhea,” I said, watching her leave.
By the time Laerune settled into one of the chairs by the desk, I had claimed the chair on the opposite side. The divination tutor observed me with keen almond eyes.
“I told Caedmon my dreams aren’t cohesive,” I began. “There was only one I remember clearly, when I dreamt about my sister being attacked. And even then, I thought it was my own experience somehow.”
“I would expect as much,” Laerune said, her voice smooth and even. “The Mage Lord shared little beyond his suspicion that you possess a gift for divination. We’ll test it today, and if it can be confirmed, we will continue these lessons until you learn not only how to contact the Sight, or the Chantress as some prefer to call it, by yourself but also how to sever yourself from it.”
That name struck with a dull thump in my chest. “Chantress. As in the entity of Fate?”
Laerune inclined her head. “Fate, Sight, Chantress. The weaver of Fate bears many names and even more origin stories. The oldest texts claim Zara was the first to possess the gift. Some schools believe the Chantress is Zara herself, chanting fragments of what fate holds. I prefer the line of thinking that says the Sight is an inherited ability, passed through certain lineages and emerging in even fewer individuals. Whether it is Zara herself speaking through us or merely an ability she left behind has never been proven.”
That sinuous voice still lingered in the edges of my memory, reciting Reagan’s curse. Just recalling that unworldly voice raised goosebumps along the back of my neck.
