I shut the door before he could reply, but the muffled sound of his chuckle still reached me inside the room, drawing a smirk from me.
When I turned toward the room and spotted the duffel bag with my clothes by the window, I walked over, and the view outside made my breath hitch. Beyond the castle grounds, houses lined the coast of the sea under a blue sky with a few darker clouds.
It wasn’t as cold as Mountheim, but not as warm as that garden that we arrived in, which made me realise that this was probably the weather in Erisea at the moment. The sea was dark green, its calm waves wetting the golden sand and retreating to the ocean.
The clothes that Cerridwen selected seemed appropriate for this weather, although not so emissary-like. I wouldn’t needthick stockings or sweaters here. I put on a red chiffon skirt that reached my ankles and a white blouse with elbow-length sleeves.
Exactly an hour later, I heard a knock on my door. Reagan was outside. His eyes flickered over me, examining the clothes I was wearing.
“What? Is there something wrong with this outfit?” I asked, looking down at myself. “I thought it was appropriate.”
He clicked his tongue. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m thinking,” he replied, his eyes drifting lazily. “How appropriate you look.”
I had no answer to that, so I simply noted his white-collared shirt, with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, paired with black trousers.
He gave a quick shake of his head. “Let’s go.”
“Why don’t you have a sentence mark?” I asked, staring at his exposed forearms. Mine was clearly showing, and I wondered if our hosts would ask about it.
“I have one, just not on my arm,” Reagan said as we began walking down the hallway.
It was strange how mages were marked on their skin with their sentence, as if they needed a constant reminder of their offence.
“Where is it?”
He brought a hand to his chest, two fingers tapping over where his heart should be.
I grimaced. “Did it hurt?”
His tone was a shade too flat when he answered. “Less than you’d expect.”
“How much longer do you still have?” I asked.
He seemed to hesitate briefly. “The sentence will end on my next birthday.”
“That’s soon, right? Somehow, I imagined it would be way longer. Maybe I just assumed from the way your staff spoke. When is your birthday?”
Reagan gave no reaction as we reached the stairs, and I realised we were about to meet the Barrows again. I should have been wondering how that conversation would go, rather than prying.
“In three months,” he replied dryly, stopping when we reached the ground floor, a hand grasping my elbow. “Jane, remember when I told you that there are people who wouldn’t be so welcoming to a human?”
I nodded, sensing the shift in his tone.
“We might find some of them here. So, stay close to me. Let’s hope none of them has a death wish.”
I swallowed hard. Reagan’s hand moved to my lower back, and we resumed our walk to the foyer.
At first, I didn’t understand his sudden change, but then I heard muffled voices as we neared the entrance.
“May I ask which locations you’re planning to visit?” someone asked.
“You’re being ridiculous, Roak,” Alameda spoke with an exasperated tone.
“Apologies, my lady, but I must disagree. They are not to be trusted. There are laws for this.”
“Your concern is noted, Roak,” Coriander said, his tone mildly dismissive.
We entered a different foyer of the castle, finding the three figures there. Roak was about to reply, but stopped himself, his gaze fixed on Reagan.
