“I don’t recall there being anythingtotalk about,” Gemma said in her calm but practical voice. She was muffled, but not inaudible through the door. “You were obviously under a lot of pressure, but now the Lady Enchantress ishere.”
“Gemma, I’m not a rare animal,” Stil said in an almost-strangled sounding voice. “I don’t undergo metamorphosis if I’m not near other magic users. The truth is, I don’t reallylikemany magicusers.”
Angelique shook her head slightly as she took a few steps down thehallway.
“That’s not true; you like the Lady Enchantress Angelique.” Gemma paused, then added in a rush. “Which is to be expected. She’s lovely, and I think you two would do quite welltogether.”
Angelique held her hand to her mouth and tried not to gag at thethought.
Stil merely snorted. “I am not in love with Angelique. I’m in love withyou.”
There was more scratching of wood furniture being moved, as Angelique paused, grudgingly admiring his forwardness.A straight declaration, well played. And herresponse…?
“Well, that’s not proper,” Gemmasaid.
Angelique smirked.A solidmiss.
“Whynot?”
“Because I am not a magicuser.”
“There is no rule that mages can only love fellow mages. Even if there was, your work is beautiful enough, I think it’s fairly obvious you have a faint strain of magic in yourblood.”
As the conversation became more serious and was likely headed back into the realm of sappy, Angelique took another step ortwo.
“Even so, it still wouldn’t be proper,” Gemma said, her muffled voice barelyaudible.
“Why not?” Stil asked, his voice growing quieter as Angelique tip-toed down the hallway, careful not to make the floorcreak.
“Because of the age difference,” Gemma casuallysaid.
Caught off guard, Angelique paused and blinked.What?
Stil seemed to share her confusion, for his voice was puzzled when he asked, “Agedifference?”
“Of course. Surely you can’t be a day younger than fifty or sixty,” Gemma said with absolutesincerity.
A momentpassed.
Then, Stil’s shout shattered the silence. “You think I’m anoldman?”
A bark of laughter almost burst from Angelique’s mouth. It was only her quick thinking in mashing her face into a thick velvet drape that hung from the wall that let her strangle the sound of her snorts. Her chortles were soon interrupted by sneezes when it swiftly became apparent that Stil—for all of his housekeeping skills—did not often wash hisdrapes.
She sneezed three times in a row before she staggered down the hallway, her eyes watering. Once she was far enough away, she let herself grin, and there was a slight bounce in her step as she felt lighter than she had inweeks.
She staggered into her bedroom and cast a look of longing at the bed. “No, I ought to clean up at least a little bit,first.”
She approached the wash basin filled with warm water and splashed her face, furthering the feeling of refreshment that was sinking into herheart.
She dried her face, washed her hands, and shed her shoes before perching on the edge of the bed. She let herself flop backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I ought to change into suitable sleepwear,” she said with no conviction. “Or maybe fall asleep just like this…” She yawned and rolled onto her side, her eyes flutteringshut.
The bedroom door flung open. “Angelique!” Stilshouted.
Angelique jumped off the bed like a startled cat, her heart beating erratically as her hair spilled messily over her face. “What?”
“Gemma pointed out that the nightmaredoeshave a reason for hunting me, and it’s probably not as random or inexplicable as it seems,” Stil said in a rush ofwords.
Angelique pushed her hand out, trying to stem the flow. “Wait, stop, stop, stop. We aren’t having this discussion in abedroom.”
