“It’s all right! It’s just a dream.” Someone was shaking him. Opening his eyes, he saw that it was the baroness. The look of empathy and concern on her features made him feel vaguely guilty, as though he had committed a crime or lied to her. You have, he realized. Lied by omission. How would she feel if she knew who your father was?
The sunlight was streaming through the window and the angle told him he had overslept; it was probably close to noon. He bolted upright in the bed. “I’m late to class,” he informed her.
“Worry about that later,” said Agnes soothingly. “After what you’ve been through you needed the rest. Your classes will still be there tomorrow.”
His head swiveled back and forth as he tried to spot his clothes, his armor, or his other belongings. He was still naked under the covers. “I should really be going,” he replied. “Do you know where my things are?”
“They’re being cleaned,” she answered primly.
Will frowned. “Even the armor?”
Agnes laughed. “You aren’t the first to wear mail. Andrew knows how to take care of your gear.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” said Will. He guessed Andrew must be the name of one of her servants. “It’s too much trouble. Besides, I just—”
She touched a finger to his lips to stop him from continuing. “It was covered in blood. Even the gambeson was soaked through. I’m sure you know what blood does to steel.”
Blood? He’d removed his mail before the flogging, and Darla’s quarrel had barely cut the skin of his stomach. Oh, the soldier… He felt bad when he thought about the man whose throat he’d opened. The fellow had just been following orders. If I’d surrendered immediately, he would still be alive. It’s not as though my stubbornness changed anything.
He looked up at Agnes. “Even so, I’m too much in your debt already. Let me replace the sheets and blankets…”
She gave him a stern look. “Young man, are you trying to insult me?”
“No, Your Excellency.”
“Agnes. Please call me Agnes,” she corrected. “What you did last night was a remarkable act of self-sacrifice. It horrifies me to think of one of my children enduring the kind of suffering that you took on for my Laina. I consider the debt to be mine, so please stop trying to refuse my hospitality. Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you hungry?”
He was positively starving. “I’m famished,” he admitted. “If you show me to the kitchen I’ll—”
The baroness frowned again. “Didn’t we just cover this topic?”
Will held up his hands. “I’m not trying to refuse your hospitality. I just like to cook my own breakfast.”
“I’ll have you know that our cook, Armand, is one of the best in Cerria,” she said proudly.
He felt a grin begin to form. “Would you like to make a wager?”
Puzzled, she stared at him. “On what?”
“Let me borrow your kitchen to cook for you and I’ll compete with Armand. If I can’t make something you like better than what he offers I’ll eat my hat,” he declared confidently.
“Not that I would wish to disparage your skills, but you do realize that you’re not just part of the nobility now, but also technically a royal. Cooking your own meals will earn you some strange looks in the future.”
“It’s a hobby.”
The baroness’ lips formed a faint smirk. “I suppose that explanation will suffice. Very well, let’s see if Armand is willing to take up your challenge, but you’ll have to cook for everyone. Are you sure you’re sufficiently recovered?”
Somehow, he had forgotten the previous evening. As her words brought back the memory, he felt a flash of pain, and his back tensed so painfully that he contorted and fell back onto the pillows. There was nothing physically wrong with him—the regeneration potion had seen to that—but the memory was so powerful that it overwhelmed him. Agnes cried out in alarm and held onto his arm, but after a few seconds the spasm had passed.
“William?” she asked.
He nodded, though his brow was beginning to bead with sweat. “Let’s not talk about it. The memory is still too strong.”
“Perhaps we should forget about this contest then,” she suggested.
He sat up and threw back the covers. “No, I need to keep myself occupied.” His face shifted to red as he realized he was still naked, and he quickly jerked a coverlet over himself.
Agnes wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, though she laughed at his expression. Rising to her feet, she moved to the door. “I’ll have some clothes brought in for you. You’re almost the same size as Mark, so I’m sure some of his things will fit you. You’re practically the spitting image of him when he was your age.” With that, she left.
Will stared at the door, feeling nervous once more. What if she realizes?
***
Lethargy caused him to doubt his decision, but once he got into the kitchen and finished waking up, his energy returned. The family cook, Armand, turned out to be a heavyset man in his middling years, and his appearance was unusual in that he had neither beard nor mustache. While being completely cleanshaven was mildly unusual, the man’s head also appeared to be thoroughly denuded. Or maybe he’s just bald, thought Will. It was hard to tell with the white cap that the man wore.
Armand responded to Will’s challenge with equanimity and an air of assurance. The man had been cooking for men and women of high station for most of his life. There was no doubt in him that he would win.
Will’s blood warmed as he got to work. He had a good idea of the types of food the upper class in Cerria were used to. If Armand was as skilled as Agnes had claimed, then the man would probably serve an omelet or possibly sweet crepes paired with sausages or ham. Rather than compete with him, Will decided to go with something he doubted the baroness had had before.
He chuckled wickedly, thinking of the breakfasts Arrogan had made for him. The crotchety old wizard had been an exceptional cook, and over the course of his hundreds of years the old man had traveled most of the known world. Some of the dishes he had introduced Will to had no equivalents in Terabinian cuisine. The kitchen at the Nerrow house was well appointed, and after a brief survey of the tools and ingredients he had available to him, Will began.
Somewhere in the middle of things Armand glanced over at him. “What a shame.”
“How so?” asked Will, glancing up from the apple he was slicing into wafer-thin slices.
“All those ingredients gone to waste.”
Will hid a smile. “We’ll see. Where did the vinegar go?”
The other man pointed to a shelf and returned to his own work, shaking his head. Will got the vinegar and measured out what he needed, until the smell hit him. Something about it reminded him of the brine from the night before, and his legs sagged beneath him. It was all he could do to catch himself on the edge of the worktable. With an effort of will he straightened up, but his hands continued to tremble for several minutes while he worked.
Breakfast was served later than usual, since Will and his competitor had both gone to great lengths to produce the best they could offer. The family was already seated at the dining table with Mark at one end and his wife at the other while Laina and Tabitha sat on one side in the middle.
Armand had produced a savory crepe that was paired with sausages and sweet strawberry tarts. Will was impressed by the man’s skill, and he was glad he had chosen not to compete head-to-head with similar dishes. Years of practice had given the old cook the perfect touch with both his batter for his crepes and the crust on his tarts. Will would have lost if he’d tried to best the man with either of those.
The family glanced at the double set of plates placed before them. Mark Nerrow seemed somber and detached as he tasted the various dishes. Laina was only marginally more animated, but Tabitha was practically bubbling with enthusiasm. She gave Will a smile and a wink as she began to sample each dish.
As expected, they gave Arma
nd’s food high marks, but their expressions turned to surprise, then delight as they moved on to Will’s offering. Within minutes it was apparent he had won, for they kept sampling, tasting, and outright devouring what he had put in front of them. Agnes was the first to address him. “What exactly is this?” She pointed her spoon at the fluffy yet savory concoction that was in the ramekin in front of her.
“It’s called a soufflé,” Will answered. “It’s made with eggs and cheese and it has to be served immediately after cooking, before it falls.”
“It’s almost like cake,” Tabitha enthused, “except it isn’t sweet. It’s sort of cheesy and light.”
Mark leaned back. He had already finished everything he had been given. “I have to confess I never would have imagined having a salad for breakfast, but it went surprisingly well with the cheese thing.”
Will smiled. He’d made a salad with bitter dandelion greens and a sweet vinaigrette, then he’d topped it with crisp slices of sweet apple and added crunchy walnuts toasted with honey. The combination of textures and fresh, sweet, and sour flavors made the salad a perfect respite from the light but rich soufflé.
Surprisingly, Armand wasn’t a sore loser. After the winner had been decided, the two men returned to the kitchen and ate the remainders, each eating the other’s food. Will complimented him. “I couldn’t have made a tart like this. It’s absolutely perfect.”
Armand grunted. “It’s just time and practice. Where did you get the idea for that salad?”
“My grandfather. I think he traveled a lot. He was very demanding about his food, but he taught me as much as he could.”
“I’d like you to show me how you made that soufflé, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” He explained what he had done, then added, “I can return sometime and make it again with you if you wish.”
“William,” Agnes was calling to him from the other room.
“I’d better go,” he told the cook. Returning to the dining room, he sat across from Laina.
“You weren’t going to eat with us after all the effort you went to?” asked the baroness.
He grinned sheepishly. “Actually, I just finished. I tasted a lot as I was cooking, and Armand and I just traded our dishes with each other.”
Laina snorted. “He’s married to a princess, but he eats in the kitchen like a farmhand.”
“And cooks like a god,” added Tabitha, a dreamy smile on her face. “Will you be visiting us again, Will?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer, and his eyes went to the baron and baroness to gauge their reaction to the question. Mark Nerrow frowned faintly, but his wife was firm in her response. “You can visit us any time, William. You are always welcome in our home, and I’d be delighted if you made it a habit to drop by frequently.” She smiled to reinforce her words.
Tabitha nodded in agreement. “And if you want to cook something, I don’t think anyone here would complain.” When her mother looked askance at her, she added, “That was a joke, Mother. Naturally he’s welcome whether he cooks or not.” She turned back to Will. “Tell Selene to come with you next time too. I miss her.”
Didn’t Laina tell her anything? He glanced at the older sister, and she shook her head negatively, warning him to refrain from getting into that problem. “I’ll try to do that,” he said, answering Tabitha as honestly as he could.
The baron eased his chair back and stood, stretching his back in a gesture that seemed contrived. “I’m sure William has a lot to get back to at Wurthaven, and we’ve imposed on his time for long enough. Can I offer you a ride back to the college?”
Tabitha let out a disappointed groan and her mother glared at the baron. “He hasn’t been here long, Mark. Let him stay a while.”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to hurry him off,” insisted the baron. “I was merely offering. It’s up to you, William.”
Will met his father’s eyes. The man’s eyes reflected seemingly genuine warmth, but he knew the baron was acting for the benefit of his wife. Will turned to the baroness with an apologetic look. “I’m truly sorry, Your Excellency, but the baron is correct. I really must return to school.”
The baroness growled at him.
“Agnes,” Will corrected immediately.
She patted his arm with an affectionate smile. “That’s better. If you must return then by all means do so, William. We won’t keep you, but please do return soon. My invitation was sincere.”
He felt something warm form in his chest, and to his surprise Will realized he felt a certain fondness for not just his sisters, but the entire family. It was a wistful sensation, and he replied wholeheartedly, “I would like that, Agnes. Thank you.”
Tabitha moved in quickly, and before he could react, kissed his cheek. “Hope to see you soon, Brother!”
Will froze, staring at her. How does she know? A glance at his father showed him that the older man was similarly stunned. Laina merely seemed irritated by the comment, but Agnes rebuked her daughter, “You really are too much, Tabitha! What will I ever do with you?”
Tabitha laughed. “We’ve always said Selene was our sister, so if he’s her husband then that makes him our brother-in-law, doesn’t it?” She winked in Will’s direction.
Hearing her explanation, Will relaxed, but the panic receded only to be replaced by another more difficult emotion. His vision blurred slightly, and he turned away. “I really do need to be going.”
The two sisters followed him and their father to the door, and before he could step out, Laina leaned in and said quietly, “Thank you for everything, but please don’t do anything like last night again. Selene would murder me if anything happened to you because of me.”
He paused and gave her a serious look. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”
She glared at him. “Maybe I was wrong. Truce?”
Will nodded. “Truce.”
“Don’t follow me again,” she warned.
Having spent a considerable amount of time around the fae, Will circled the question. “After last night I can’t imagine anyone would be foolish enough to do that again,” he replied. Then he turned to Tabitha. “Thank you for your kindness.” Following Mark Nerrow, he was out the door before Laina could make up her mind whether he had answered her question properly.
Chapter 11
Once they were safely ensconced in the carriage and on their way, the baron gave Will a stern look. “You seemed rather comfortable with my family.”
The deliberate use of the word ‘my’ stung. It was true, obviously, but it still hurt, for it clearly delineated the separation between them. Laina, Tabitha, and Agnes were Mark Nerrow’s family, not Will’s, nor would they ever be.
Will had never really wanted to be connected to his father, but his half-sisters were a different matter. He hadn’t had any hope to speak of, but his recent stay at their home had filled him with emotions that he still hadn’t sorted out. He had no idea how to reply. “You have a splendid family. Your wife and daughters are delightful. You must be very proud.”
“Protective,” stressed the baron. “Someday when you have children you’ll understand. Fathers are protective before all else.”
“Pardon me, sir,” said Will coldly. “I never had a father to serve as an example.”
Mark Nerrow’s eyes grew angry for a moment, but he suppressed the feeling. “You have every cause to be angry with me, William. I won’t begrudge you that. If things had been different—”
Will thought the man looked remorseful, and that irritated him even more. It was your decision, not mine that led us here, he reminded himself. “But they weren’t,” he interrupted.
“Exactly,” agreed the baron with a sharp, decisive nod. “I think you realize it’s too dangerous for you to spend time around my family. Sooner or later the secret will be out, and I won’t risk the problems that would cause my wife and children.”
“You’re worried about your marriage,” said Will.
His father waved a hand dismissiv
ely. “You were born before I met Agnes. It isn’t as if I was unfaithful. Still, your existence would be a pain for her, and an uncertainty I would spare her from, not to mention my daughters.”
The lump in Will’s throat was so large he could barely speak. “I can’t speak for your wife, but don’t you think Laina and Tabitha have a right to know about me? I am their bro—”
“They’re my children,” snapped the baron. “It’s my decision—not theirs—not yours. Mine.”
That remark washed over him like a cold wave. “I see,” he said noncommittally.
“I’ll expect you to ignore my wife’s invitation. It’s nothing against you, William, and I am grateful for what you did, but it would be better if you aren’t around them. Growing attached to them will only complicate things for everyone involved.”
His stomach knotted, and he felt the urge to vomit up the breakfast he had only just finished, but he didn’t give up completely. “What about Selene?” he asked. “In the future there will probably be occasions where—”
“When possible, make an excuse,” directed the baron. “If it’s unavoidable we’ll simply have to make the best of it, but with some effort on your part those events should be rare. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” said Will coldly. “Can you ask your driver to stop? I’d like to get out.”
“You aren’t upset, are you, William?”
“No, I’m fine,” he lied.
The baron signaled for the driver and gave the order to stop. As Will stepped out onto the street, he looked back. The look of relief on Mark Nerrow’s face made him want to slam the carriage door. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay away from you and your family,” he reiterated, then he walked away.
He made the rest of his way home on foot while his inner turmoil ate at his composure. By the time he reached his house, he could barely contain it any longer.
Blake was on him the moment he passed through the door. “Where have you been? I worried you might be dead when you didn’t return.”
Scholar of Magic Page 11