And my magic had made him happy, even if it couldn’t make him young again. Ugh.
“No, of course not,” Lord Ettori said soothingly. “In perfect condition, perhaps, if anything. Very well!” He clapped his hands to his knees and stood. Long-ago training in proper manners took over for me, bringing me to my feet as well. “I have other appointments, and so I fear we must bid you farewell. For now, Remi. Only for now.”
Not if I changed my name, wore a disguise, and fled on the next ship leaving the harbor.
“Of course,” I said, forcing a smile. The sooner I agreed politely, the sooner he’d leave.
With another unsettlingly bright smile and a cheerful farewell, Lord Ettori strode from the room, deigning to open the door himself but letting it swing so that it almost clipped the mage in the nose as he followed.
“I wish you the best, Lord Remigius,” he said, and hurried after the Lord Chancellor.
Oddly, I believed him. Maybe he’d been blackmailed too. Or more likely, he simply didn’t know why he’d been brought along and thought he’d been meant to help me recover my magic after such a long hiatus. His intentions might be good.
I couldn’t say as much for my father-in-law.
The moment the door shut firmly behind my unwanted guests, I could finally blow out a long breath and suck in a new one, leaning down to brace on my knees and let the spots fade from my vision.
Thank the gods they were gone. AnddamnStefan for disappearing on me, anyway!
I briefly considered following my original plan to go out for the day to savor some of the city’s luxuries (Aldrich had mentioned a bookshop right next to a café selling fruit ices, and I could hardly imagine the decadence), and enjoy the sunshine on my face.
But no. Stefan needed to know what had happened as soon as possible. If I went out, I risked missing him.
The Lord Chancellor’s carriage wheels faded out of hearing. I drew another deep breath. Time to find a bracing cup of tea to sip while I waited for Stefan, damn him.
Halfway up the stairs, I paused, my eye caught by Stefan’s closed study door.
Tea, or would something stronger be preferable? The brandy didn’t sound at all appealing, but he’d had a decanter of red wine, too, and that would be pleasant. I could sip it slowly and try to summon that globe again.
With a fizzy sensation in my chest from my great daring, I turned the knob and stepped into my husband’s sanctum. It was as quiet, civilized, and gentlemanly as I remembered. My heart pounded as I crossed to the smaller window, turned the latch, and cranked it open. A fresh sea breeze brushed over my heated face and ruffled my curls. We were married. This study, and the window, and the comfortable chair, and the wine all belonged to me equally, didn’t they?
And if he had any objection to that, he could soak his handsome head in the nearest privy.
I poured myself a glass, sipped—mmm, we’d never had anything that soft and delicious at the abbey—and settled myself where I could see the square of blue sky through the open window. Stefan would be home soon, surely, and until then, I’d gather my thoughts.
Chapter Sixteen
Unfortunately for my thoughts and any gathering that might or might not have occurred under more favorable circumstances, that glass of wine went straight to my head.
And so did the next, even more enjoyably, and by the time Stefan’s voice rang out in the hall and his quick steps sounded on the stairs, I’d slung myself into the room’s most comfortable chair with a third glass, my head lolling against the chair’s wing and one foot dangling over the side. My shoe had slipped half off, so I’d kicked it to the floor. The Lord Chancellor? Bah! He and his mage could go to hell, dragged there by those four-armed demons Dromos supposedly kept as pets.
Maybe I’d spare the mage. He’d been rather handsome in an austere way, now that I thought about it.
Not that I controlled Dromos’s demons, but if I did…
“Grab him by the beard!” I cried commandingly, and collapsed into giggles, right as the study door opened.
“I don’t have a beard,” Stefan said after a pause, in a tone of immense bewilderment.
Oh gods, I couldn’t stand it, and I curled into myself, howling with laughter, keeping my glass upright and the wine inside it either by a miracle, or simply by virtue of having already drunk most of it.
“You’d look terrible with a beard,” I gasped, and then was off again. “Don’t! Give that back!” I protested, grasping feebly at the empty air where my glass had been a moment ago.
“Not a chance,” Stefan said. “I need it far more than you do. I know I’d look terrible with a beard, that’s why I never grow one. But thank you all the same.”
He lifted the glass toward his mouth, and I lunged at him, tripping over my own legs even without getting out of the chair, windmilling toward an ignominious tumble—and Stefan cursed, laughed, and caught me, landing beneath me on the floor with a thud and anoof. He cushioned my fall except for my left kneecap, which banged down with force.
“Ow,” I mumbled into the front of his shirt.
