It groans alarmingly in protest.
His knees draw up far too close to his chest, long limbs folding awkwardly into a space never meant for someone like him. He looks out of place, far too large and pretty andFaefor our humble home, and the laugh I intend to keep under my breath betrays me.
Luceran looks up sharply and scowls.
“Are you hungry, my lord?” Father asks, but before Luceran can respond, he sets the plate of sweet cakes down with a hopeful smile. “I’ll have a cup of tea ready for you in a jiffy.”
Luceran glances at the cakes, then at the kettle, then finally at me, as if taking it all in with a child’s wonder. It might be adorable if he were not so completely infuriating.
“What an honor it is, my lord,” Father says, his voice earnest as he gestures between us, “not only to have you in my home, but to escort Neve here safely. It’s become unsafe of late.” He hesitates, then adds, “Have you heard of the bandits troubling the forest?”
His gaze flicks to the plate of sweet cake, hopeful, encouraging.
Luceran’s expression tightens almost imperceptibly as he reaches for one of the crumbling yellow squares. He turns it over once between his fingers, then lifts it to his nose, inspecting it as though it might bite back.
“Yes,” he says at last. “I am aware of them.” His eyes lift. “They will be dealt with.”
Father exhales in visible relief. “Thank you, my lord.”
The kettle shrieks, cutting through the moment, and Luceran jolts in his chair. The sweet cake leaps from his hand, and the lord clumsily catches it on the way down, but not before it crumbles in his grip, most of it slipping through his fingers and scattering across the floorboards.
Luceran frowns, but my father raises a gentle hand, smiling. “Do not worry about it, my lord. Now, how about that tea?”
Father turns toward the kettle, but I intercept him, tapping his hand lightly and stepping in before he can protest. “I have it,” I murmur.
He gives a thankful nod, and settles into our second-best chair—the only other one we have—while I arrange the chipped cups, add the leaves and pour the hot water, the steam fogging the air.
“My lord,” he begins, and as he clears his throat, unease coils low in my chest. “I know I owe a debt. I know a bargain was struck. But Neve is a young woman. The mine is no place for her. A beautiful girl her age should be studying, or exploring, or even taking a husband and having a family, if she so chooses.”
I do not look at Luceran, but I can feel his gaze on my back as I finish pouring the tea.
“Surely, my lord,” Father says softly. “Can we not come to another arrangement? Any other arrangement that would see my Neve set free.”
Luceran does not bristle.
That, more than anything, unsettles me.
“The debt has not yet been repaid,” he says evenly. “And while I understand your concern, you should be grateful for the terms as they stand. Neve lives within the safety of Castle Frostwyn. She is fed. Housed. She does not work the mines.”
Father stiffens. “She lives in the castle… with you?”
I step in before Father can linger on that thought, or before Luceran says something that sends him straight into a heart attack.
“Father,” I say gently. “I am safe. Truly. I will be home for good soon enough. This is just for now.” I force a smile. “We should enjoy the time we have, not spend it worrying over what comes next.”
Father takes my hands in his, his shoulders caving inward as the sobs he has been holding back finally break free.
“My Neve,” he whispers. “This is all my fault. I am so sorry.”
His head falls against my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around him. When I look up, Luceran is watching us. His gaze meets mine, and the look we share is sharp with anger and regret and a tension drawn so tight I almost crave the snap. I think he does too.
Suddenly he stands, and I gulp, turning my attention back to my father as he weeps in my arms.
“I will give you this night,” Luceran says. “You have been separated long enough.” He pauses at the door. “I will stay in the barn.”
Father looks startled, sniffing back his tears. “My lord, you do not have to do that. What about your tea?”
“I am not thirsty,” Luceran replies, already opening the door. “But thank you for your hospitality. Good night.”
