by Eden Reign
Silence extended into awkward territory. The butler cleared his throat, straightening his white gloves uneasily. He glanced around the wide entrance hall. “I am Alexander Stone. I have only arrived this morning myself. I barely know where to begin here.”
“I’m Manda Rivers. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stone.”
Mr. Stone bowed in acknowledgment. “You’ll forgive us, Miss Rivers. Master Coal has not yet arrived, and I’m not quite sure what we’re to be doing. The housemaid, Miss Abigail Windham, a groundskeeper, Elias Reed, and the groom and coachman, Mr. Driver, were the only staff here when I arrived with the new girl this morning. Until the master arrives, we’re a bit at loose ends. You find us unprepared.”
Manda smiled. This was on her level. Had she arrived in a mansion fitted with the finest furnishings, the most sumptuous grounds, and the most experienced servants, she would have felt overwhelmed. Here, where she was needed, she could make do.
“I shall do very well, sir, if you can tell me where my room is.”
“As governess, I suppose you'll be on the second floor toward the front of the house—adjacent to what I believe is the school room, if that is suitable to you?”
“That will do nicely,” Manda said, glancing up at the double staircases that arched along both sides of the great room.
“I’ll send Abigail up with bed linens and such. I—” The butler seemed unsure of himself. He touched the starched collar of his suit, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. “I suppose you’re tired, Miss?”
Manda paused and placed her carpetbag on the floor. “What did you need, Mr. Stone?”
“Well, I—thought perhaps—this might all be a little overwhelming to you, as it is to me and Rose Westerly, the new maid. We put water on to make tea. Would you like some? There’s cake, too.”
Manda’s brows rose. The man’s black hair matched his uncertain dark eyes. Her heart warmed at the offer of friendship in his expression. He had the characteristic prominent cheekbones and bronze skin of the Nanukata tribe, the earthmage people who had lived in these lands before the arrival of the Arcanan emigrants who came from across the eastern sea. Manda’s own parents had both had Nanu blood.
“I’d be glad to take some tea, Mr. Stone.”
“Excellent!” His eyes lit up. “I shall bring it out in a few moments. The kettle is on now.” He moved away, but stopped and turned, his dark-eyed gaze once again brushing over her features.
Manda nearly laughed; the man was a study in perfect politeness and endearing awkwardness.
Mr. Stone cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Miss Rivers. I don’t want to be rude, but I wondered… would you by any chance be part Nanu? I am of the Nanukata earth tribe. Are you part Nanumaru, the water people, perhaps? Or even Nanuren, the fire people?”
Manda beamed warmly to reassure him. “There is no offense, Mr. Stone. Yes, both my parents were part Nanu. My father’s father was Nanukata, though I don’t know his name. And I suspect my mother was part Nanumaru, given that she was a watermage.” She hadn’t spoken of her parents in many years; the words tripped out haltingly now.
Mr. Stone paused as he studied her face. “Nathaniel Cutter!” He suddenly exclaimed the name of Manda’s father, causing her to jump. “You must be Nathaniel Cutter’s daughter! I did not know him well, but I remember, he lived near The Crossroads where Nanu Territory met mundane lands in Sweetwater. He kept to himself and did not participate in tribal matters, if I recall.”
Manda nodded, though Mr. Stone’s recognition of her family sent a rill of fear up her spine. If he knew Nathaniel Cutter, he’d soon put two and two together and realize …
Mr. Stone’s eyes flashed knowingly. “Your secrets are safe with me, Miss Rivers. We Nanu make no distinction between fullmage or halfmage. That is all I will say of it, to anyone, even the Master.”
A long pause ensued while Manda swallowed and nodded. Her throat felt thick.
“I am glad to know we share a common heritage, Miss Rivers. Please, have no fears,” Mr. Stone finally said. “Er—let me tend to that tea.” He turned and disappeared into a door to their right, which Manda assumed must be the indoor tea kitchen. She was surprised that the fullblood Nanu tribesman had not only acknowledged her murky heritage, but that he was here, serving in an Arcanan house at all. The four Nanu tribes were known for their isolationist stance toward Arcana, especially since the war, in which they had refused to take any part. It was unusual to see a Nanu man out beyond the boundaries of tribal land. She exhaled. She did trust a Nanu to keep her secret; the people of the tribes were close-mouthed on such matters. They understood the stakes.
Pounding hooves echoed down the driveway. Manda hurried to the window, peering out through the wide pane. A black horse cantered around the corner. The large rider pulled the animal to a stop in front of the house.
There were two riders. The first, a little brown-haired boy, scrambled down from the man’s lap, his hair mussed, his posture defiant. “I don't care! I didn't want to come live here in the first place!” he stormed, squeezing his arms across his chest.
The large rider dismounted and removed his hat. His strong jaw, covered in stubble, twitched with tension.
Manda’s heart stopped beating for an eternal moment.
Master Coal was the man over whom she’d spilled an entire bucket of burnt hash. Heat exploded through her cheeks, and she fought the urge to flee out the back door, off the plantation, and back to Savana where she hoped that Master Coal would never find her.
As she stood paralyzed in the window frame, the door burst open, and the boy ran in, wailing. He seized the nearest object of comfort, burying his face in Manda’s skirts.
Manda crouched before him, pulling him close, whispering soothing words in his ear. Over the boy’s shoulder, through the door, she eyed the master outside. The man stared at the ground, his hands on his hips. He cursed softly before he turned, striding off across the wide green lawn toward the outlook point where the empty fields swept down to the sea.
“It's all right,” Manda comforted the boy. At last, she pulled away, smoothing the boy’s windblown hair so she could have a good look into his face. His cheeks were shiny with tears. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Grey Tailor,” the boy whispered. He swiped one arm across his nose, his blue-grey eyes wide with fear as he glanced around the huge house with its shrouded furnishings.
“It looks a little odd,” Manda said, her hands still rubbing his upper arms where he shook in front of her, “but they’re just sheets, because the house was not in use. We’ll wash them and bundle them away, and it will look like a real house again. I think Mr. Stone the butler might have a cake or two ready for a hungry boy to eat in the tea kitchen. Would you like a small cake?”
Again, Grey nodded, and his pinched white cheeks colored as he took her hand and went with her toward the back of the great house.
He tugged on her fingers as they walked and whispered, “That man out there. He’s not my papa.”
Manda heard Jackson Coal’s boots on the entry hall floor before she saw him. With practiced ease, she folded up the napkin that had held Grey’s cake and shook the crumbs outside before placing the napkin on the counter. She lifted her steaming cup of tea, calming her trembling fingers on the warm porcelain, and sipped quietly.
Grey gulped his milk. “Give me some more, Miss Rivers.” He looked much less teary than when he’d first stormed into the house.
“I’d be glad to get you another glass of milk, Grey,” Manda said quietly, “but I didn’t hear you ask politely.”
Grey’s peaked face flushed. “Sorry. May I have some more milk, please?”
Manda poured more from the pail that sat on the table. Mr. Stone had gone, against Manda’s protests, to ask the maid to prepare Manda’s room. “I don’t need much, Mr. Stone. Just a bed to sleep in.”
“It’s no fuss,” Mr. Stone had said, and he’d turned away, a pleasant smile on his handsome face. Manda warmed at his kindness.
The boots stepped closer to the kitchen. Manda carefully set down her tea, gripping the counter to steady herself.
Master Coal appeared in the doorway and lurched to a stop, staring at Manda as if seeing a ghost. “It’s you!”
“As you see,” Manda responded primly. The scent of pine and woodsmoke had entered the kitchen with him; he smelled of the outdoors, fresh and rain-washed.
Master Coal’s brown eyes raked her from head to toe. “What are you doing here? I specifically told your proprietress not to send—that is, I didn’t want—I expected someone else!”
Manda pushed herself away from the counter, calming her trembling knees. “Sir, I was the most qualified applicant for your post out of all of us at Peachtree. If you would give me a chance—”
“You’re just a wisp of a girl,” Master Coal snapped.
Anger built inside Manda. “I assure you, sir, I have a great deal of experience with children. I can provide a good education, as well as become—perhaps—a confidant for a young mind.” She glanced sideways at Grey, who stared at Master Coal with horror on his face as he surely must comprehend the purpose behind this inquisition. She held off enumerating any other qualifications, lest Master Coal ask her about her weaknesses. Please don’t ask me to cook, she finished silently.
“Can you cook?” Master Coal asked, rubbing his good hand over his stubbled jaw as he paced across the stone kitchen floor.
Manda sighed. “The contents of the bucket I spilled on you, sir, are perhaps representative of most of my forays in the kitchen.” Her cheeks burned hot, hotter when she recognized a spark of amusement lighting his eyes. He had a sense of humor; would he send her back on a technicality?
The man’s lips twitched. Manda breathed easier as he crossed to the counter near her and leaned against it, crossing one booted foot over the other, staring at Manda. He looks dangerous, Manda thought with a shiver, like Caty said. The v-shaped scar beneath his eye was white, standing out in sharp relief to his tanned face.
“What’s your name?” he asked brusquely.
“Manda Rivers, sir.”
“Just Rivers?” Master Coal studied her closely. “A mage then, but not from one of the High Families, nor even a middling one. Good. It’s better that I have a mage of humble origins for this job.”
Manda squirmed under his scrutiny. Rivers was the name her mundane step-father, Simon Dunne, had put on her when he’d turned her over to the orphanage. It was the generic surname for any water fullmage not born into one of the known Families. If Master Coal believed her a fullmage, he wouldn’t be surprised if he caught her doing magic or felt her power. It was a good name; mages named Rivers were everywhere, and Master Coal would have no way to trace her.
“And how long were you in the orphanage, Miss Rivers?”
Manda had expected a review of her qualifications and history, perhaps over tea, after she’d had a chance to sit down, or even after teaching Grey for a day or two. She fidgeted with the hem of her peplum, but she answered honestly.
“I was taken to the orphanage when I was a girl of eleven, shortly after the death of my mother.”
Master Coal’s brown eyes flickered. “Where was your father? Had you no other family?”
“None that counted, sir. My father died when I was eight years old, leaving my mother with no other recourse but to wed in haste the man who became my stepfather. Their marriage was not as she had hoped. He was cruel, sir, and he beat her.” In her mind, Manda compared this conversation to the one she’d just had with Mr. Stone, who’d accepted her truth so readily. But Master Coal was not such an easy-going man.
Master Coal was silent. Manda glanced at Grey, wondering if she should be giving her history in front of the boy and wishing desperately that her new employer had waited to interview her until Grey was out of hearing.
“Did your stepfather beat you?”
Manda straightened. She balled her skirts in her hands. “Sir, might I ask if we can continue this conversation later?” She cast a significant look toward Grey, who had gone still at his place at the table.
Master Coal glanced at Grey. “Why? The boy can handle it.”
“Just because something is possible doesn’t mean that course of action is the wisest one.”
Master Coal’s expression hardened. “If you’re going to be difficult, Miss Rivers, perhaps it would be best to send you back.”
“Sir, I—”
“I just returned from the war, Miss Rivers, where I was a Major. I issued orders, and men obeyed me. If they didn’t obey, it meant their lives or the lives of their brothers-in-arms.”
Fury loosened Manda’s tongue.
“This is not the war, sir, and you are not my commanding officer! Having an opinion does not mean death for myself or anyone around me! If working in this house means becoming a doormat on which you can wipe your army boots, I will go right back into Savana, and you can find yourself a better mouse for your governess.”
A deep flush crept up Master Coal’s neck. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the counter. He started to speak, but stopped when Grey launched himself from the table, winding his arms around Manda and glaring at Jackson.
“Don’t send her back!” Grey pleaded, his voice clogged with tears. “If you do, I’ll make it rain for weeks. I’ll flood your fields. I’ll—I’ll run away.” He turned his wide-eyed gaze up to Manda. “I’ll run away with you, Miss Rivers. Can I? Will you take me with you?”
Manda gently rubbed his back, her thoughts churning. She hadn’t expected this reaction, and from the expression on Master Coal’s face, he hadn’t either.
Loaded silence filled the kitchen.
Master Coal muttered another curse as he straightened and paced to the table and back again. “Well, it seems you’ve won over my charge quickly, Miss Rivers. Look, I didn’t mean that you should go back to the orphanage, or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“That is precisely what you said.” Manda could have torn her own tongue out. The man was trying to make amends, but her temper could not be soothed.
“Cleansing Flames, will you let me speak?”
Manda raised her chin, nodding shortly.
“I—the child is a—a halfmage, not to mention a war orphan. His father died fighting, his mother in a cholera outbreak. You’ll likely have to deal with difficulties of all varieties if you stay. I have apprised only my newly hired staff of Grey’s status; they vowed to keep his secret. You must do the same if you stay, and I insist that you tell no one else, not even Abigail, Mr. Driver, Mr. Reed, or the croppers here. Anyone who worked for my father must not know. I ...”
Manda nodded but said nothing, waiting.
Master Coal shook his head, running his good hand—the left remained wrapped in white bandages—through his too-long hair. “The boy conjured a hail storm on the way here and delayed our trip by hours. It’s why we weren’t here when you arrived.” He gestured at Grey in frustration. “He hasn’t learned to control his halfmage magic; he may be a danger to you. Do you really wish to stay even knowing that?”
Manda unscrewed her jaw; it was clamped so tightly, she wondered if she had chipped her teeth. “First of all, sir, the boy has a name. It’s Grey. Grey Tailor.”
Master Coal flinched as though she had cut him.
Manda was too angry to slow her momentum. “Secondly, I may only be eighteen, but in those years, I have had experience with fullmages, mundanes, and yes, even halfmages.” Stop, Manda. She pulled back the words that would condemn her in his eyes. I am a halfmage, you dolt, and we are not the vermin you fullmages think us. She inhaled a controlled breath. “I am not afraid of caring for a halfmage, sir, nor of keeping his secret. They—they need love and attention as much as anyone.”
Master Coal stared at her, waiting. Grey’s arms still strangled her waist, and she wondered what her fate would be. Softly, she stroked Grey’s soft brown curls.
Master Coal glanced down at the boy. “And you think you’re
keen to take this on? The orphanage sold you as an indenture, but it is a matter of conscience that I pay my employees. Despite the difficult circumstance, the wages I can offer are adequate, not extraordinary. You could do better elsewhere.”
Manda’s temper threatened to spill over again. She reined in her words, asking quietly instead, “Why did you take Grey on, Master Coal, if his lineage so distresses you?”
Anger whitened the man’s v-shaped scar. “There’s not a thing wrong with his lineage. Nothing, do you hear me?” He exited the kitchen, slamming the door. A pot that hung on the wall crashed to the counter.
Manda wondered if the butler and the maid had heard the argument. That would explain why Mr. Stone had not yet reappeared.
She sank into the chair Grey had vacated.
He smiled shyly at her, climbing onto her lap. “So you’ll stay, Miss Rivers?”
She smoothed his hair again. “I’ll stay. I promise.”
Chapter 7
Jackson
Jackson’s anger dissipated before he’d reached the verandah. He took the stairs in one leap, heading into the back gardens.
She’d said she would take care of a halfmage child.
He cursed.
Did she have any idea how world-shattering that was? Did she even have an inkling of the agreement she’d made? She’d opened herself to the censure of most of Arcana. She would never raise herself in position; it was only a stroke of luck that she happened to have an employer who had been a Leveler—what if he had been of his father’s mind? Henry Coal would have tried to cleanse her with his own flames, or worse, sent her over to Daniel Lake’s estate for an inquisition based on her suspect loyalties. Blazing Fires, did the girl proclaim Leveler ideas to everyone? No wonder she wasn’t married.
What Arcanan man would want a halfmage sympathizer?
What man wouldn’t want Manda Rivers?
He halted, his eyes sliding shut. He leaned against a honeysuckle-covered tree trunk and allowed the vines to swallow him in leaves. Manda Rivers, when not covered in burnt hash, smelled of fresh spring rain and new grass.