“Have you been drinking?” she asked abruptly.
He blinked, his throat suddenly dry. “We had drinks in the outpost,” he said. It was not lost on him the quick surge of shame. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes,” Jane said blandly, her gaze scanning his face. “Don’t tell anyone. What should I do about Varian?”
“Leave Varian to me,” he said, and with a flick of will, the ward dissolved. He turned sharply toward the chamber again.
“Caed,” she urged after him.
He didn’t mean to ignore her, didn’t want to leave her side, but he noticed he was on edge. Irritated.
When he was young, he had been heedless of that trait. The acidic behaviours came naturally to him. His father had pointed out that it didn’t make him sound like a leader. It merely revealed his unease and served as a poor trait for a future Lord. He learned to act differently in front of others. Most of the time. Less so among his family.
“We’ll keep this between us,” he said, back in the room, sweeping his gaze across Cerridwen, Gwin, and finally Laerune. “If you and Jane discover more specifics about this, bring it to me directly. And alone.”
“Secrets of the estate?” Varian asked. “I suppose even your staff isn’t privy to everything.”
“Look at you, cousin. Understanding for once,” Reagan said mildly as he sank into his chair. “I trust I don’t need to remind you that what’s said or seen here stays within this room.”
“As I’m reminded rather often,” Varian replied, reaching for a glass of water. “Still, it’s remarkable. A diviner among your staff. Jane, are you actually mageborn?”
The familiarity in the way his cousin uttered her name burned like acid down Reagan’s throat, stoking his irritation.
She returned to her seat, seemingly unbothered by the question, not sparing Varian a glance. “You wouldn’t care,” Jane said. “I’m probably what you call a half-breed.”
“That,” Reagan said, his tone razor calm, “is also not to be shared outside this room.”
Varian glanced sidelong between him and Jane.
Reagan couldn’t wait to deal with his cousin. That hint of interest in his face was another reminder of the danger of keeping him so close. But he could already see Varian becoming comfortable, enough to slip soon and give Reagan what he wanted.
“What have you decided?” Cerridwen asked.
“Laerune said that I’m ready to start trying,” Jane said quickly, directing her words at him.
Reagan deliberated for a moment.
She meant ready to look for the meddling with his threads, to prove the interference with his curse. Exactly what he wanted. If she could prove it, Malory would have her answer and free Jane from her sentence. But he didn’t know if that was a good idea anymore, not while Jane hadn’t tapped into her access by herself, without anyone siphoning to her. Until then, the sentence was still the only thing keeping her in mage territory.
Granted, it was a selfish thought, but she would want to stay with her sister anyway. And he couldn’t risk having no reason to keep her.
He had to stall this, and actually, he could use her help with something else.
Yesterday they had finally received the invitation to Banfgaard, and they would be leaving soon. If he said he needed both his emissaries for the trip, she would come. He knew she would. Jane had looked eager when he invited her before, just as she had been for the trip to Erisea all those months ago.
In their first liaison, he hadn’t the faintest idea why she seemed interested in travelling or helping him, but now he understood. She liked being needed. It was how she grew up. She had practically glowed when he thanked her for the deal proposal.
But it would stall her progress with the lessons too, which might matter more.
“Let me think about it,” Reagan said simply.
“I did say I think Jane is ready,” Xanthos chimed in, “but I would recommend postponing for at least five days. Miss Darling’s near-burnout today means she must rest and sleep properly.”
Burnout.
Reagan ground his teeth. Maybe that explained the bloody eyes.
But it was just the excuse he needed.
