“It cooks every night.” My nose was still down, looking at the page.
“Do you want to join me?”
I looked up from the text and blurted, “What binds the warlock is the same magic that binds a Jinn to a bottle.”
“That was quick. How do you know?”
“This text. It says the curse is the only known one to bind a person or being to an object or place ‘with any hope of permanence.’So, by that logic, if our warlock is truly a threat, they would have used the strongest binding possible. Wouldn’t you think?” The question was entirely rhetorical, but Emmerick nodded along.
He clapped his hands together with jovial enthusiasm. “Good work, then.”
His praise was so genuine, so easy to attain, that it made me pause and realize he’d offered a meal.
“Oh.” My cheeks heated. “Dinner sounds nice too, thank you.”
He showed me his winning smile. At least the Queen had sent me a man handsome enough to bear looking at for the weeks of travel ahead. The young Commander motioned for me to follow him to the kitchen.
* * *
A hen carcasswas picked to the bone before us, a pan of roasted potatoes was depleted next to it and only one fresh roll remained. The kitchen and hearth were in disarray—the tower had stopped trying to pick up after Emmerick. Flour still dusted most surfaces, and dishes were piled next to the wash basin.
“Where did you learn to cook so well, Sir Emmerick?”
“If you are going to insist on informality, then it’sjustEmmerick.” He thought for a moment. “My ma taught me. She has this saying: ‘No one deserves a good woman if they can’t cook as a good woman can.’” He waved an arm around. “‘Or clean as a good woman can.’ Or any variation of that line which suits her.”
I smiled at that. “She lives in Luz?”
“Yes, she and my father.”
We drank a bottle of wine over the next hour as Emmerick told the most endearing stories of his upbringing. It made my heart long for the type of family he had.
His mother was a baker at the palace—that explained the cooking. His father was a palace groundskeeper. His parents worked two trades that made them commoners yet were still able to provide a comfortable life for Emmerick. They still lived in the palace walls that he was sworn to protect and happily served the Wymark family despite Emmerick urging them to retire.
“Is it normal for someone of your upbringing to rise to the ranks that you have?”
His expression hardened slightly. I’d struck a nerve, again.Peace Prevail, it was hard making small conversation.
“I’m sorry—I don’t know what is proper to ask.”
“No, it’s okay.” He raked a hand over his chin. “Before Sybilla’s father died, he took an interest in me. Queen Sybilla and I used to sneak into the woods behind the castle grounds and hunt squirrels as children.
“He found us one day—saw that I had been teaching her to use a bow. I thought for sure I was going straight to the pillory. But, instead, the King began to come find me to give me lessons in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. He took me under his wing—but made me promise I would keep teaching Sybilla everything I learned. She never knew about the lessons. I was her guard full-time by the time I was a teenager.”
He looked wistfully at his empty wine glass.
“Looking back, it’s easy to see why—the King was sick. He knew he wouldn’t be around to protect her forever, and in our unlikely friendship, he saw an opportunity. I wasn’t noble-bred or a threat to the throne. She had plenty of cousins she should have been able to trust, but he feared they would betray her. Growing up as royalty is a vicious thing—she had so few people in her life that wished to see her succeed.”
I nodded along, completely enthralled by his stories. “She seems to have a good friend in you.”
It was easy to imagine why the Queen would trust someone like Emmerick. Suddenly, I was saddened that this couldn’t be an everyday occurrence—to havecompany.Conversation—it was lovely. Talking to him was completely different from discussions with my Sisters.
“It’s getting late,” I mused, not wanting to convey my warring emotions. The tower began picking up our plates to float them into the kitchen for washing. I rose and pushed in my chair.
I wasn’t sure what type of dismissal was customary, so I settled for simplicity. “Goodnight, Emmerick.”
“Goodnight, Lad—” He caught his words. “Goodnight, Asterie.” He headed to bed, and I headed to my library.
Chapter7
